From Heartbreak to Hope

Bismihi Ta’ala

Hamzah

Part 86

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

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

”Like really, absolutely sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Immense guilt overcame me as I processed the reality.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My first reaction to seeing the necklace was absolute shock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Regret. Remorse.

Resolve.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Period.

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

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

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

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

“We were proposed.”

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

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

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

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

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

That hit me even harder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And now I did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Things were at a point where we were irreparable.

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

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

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

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

Still, the next few days were unbearable.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And of course, that made me sway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zubair: Did you see it? The article

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

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

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

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

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

Crap. It was bad. For her.

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

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

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

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

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

I scoffed and shook my head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

Hope. SubhaanAllah.

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

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

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

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

Much Love Always,

Witg lots of sabr and shukar this Ramadhaan.

A x

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

Sunnah of Duaa

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

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

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

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

اَللّٰهُمَّ  بَارِكْ لَناَ فِيْ رَجَبٍ وَشَعْبانَ وَبَلّغْنَا رَمَضَانْ

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

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

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

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

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When we Buy some Time

Bismihi Ta’ala

Hamzah

Part 76

Time.

“Your life comprises a few breaths that can be counted; when one of them is sent out, a part of your life has diminished.”

Once lost, it’s never found.

You never quite realise the value with it until you’re at war with it. Until it feels like you’ve lost your mind, and you’re running out of it.

Deadlines, cut-off times and final dates. It was all a matter of time, before the chances would be up. And it’s no wonder that Allah Ta’ala takes an oath by it, to declare its importance.

In Surah Asr, it’s started that the only way to escape loss is to take every moment of his life as valuable, and use it for the four acts mentioned in the Surah.

Imam Shafi’I (RA) says that if people thought about Surah Al-’Asr carefully, it would be enough for their guidance. It’s a concise but comprehensive Surah, which outlines a complete way of human life based on the Islamic perspective.

Not only that, it drives the fact that each moment goes by, every second, minute, hour or day of the passage of time is nothing but a sword that is slashing away at your life of this world, reminding me that my time was running out.

Reminding you that every thing you do in that time is going to determine what’s going to occur after time is up.

Fresh starts, thanks to the calendar- they happen every year. A reminder that theres a new beginning. A new chance to start.

Sometimes it’s just a simple nudge to put your past behind you and start over.

At that time of my life, when the year had begun, my heart was at war with itself. It felt too deeply. Hurt too much. And I couldn’t understand why I was going through this.

While my brother secretly celebrated the news of Saaliha’s pregnancy, which made me so happy for him, with the beginning of the new year for Mos and I, was a new feeling that felt like a cloud waiting to open its doors and let loose on us.

I sat gravely on the kitchen nook, glancing at the block whilst waiting for my wife to enter the kitchen again, my Qur’ān recital the only thing that could calm the storm that was brewing within me.

It was just what I needed to heal my own heart, and to right everything that had gone wrong.

It was just what I needed to remind of the war I was fighting for the greater good… to keep everything afloat.

“How was it?”

I closed my Qur’ān softly just after concluding the recital, glancing up at my wife as she walked from the room, wearing a light coloured modest dress as she repositioned Zaid’s feeding chair.

She had rushed to the room when she had gotten home from her day, and it was only after a few minutes when hearing  the droning of the breast pump, did I realise that it was the first time she had been away from Zaid for so long.

I couldn’t help but marvel at what an amazing mother she had become. It was the first time that she had left him since her resignation and though I really felt that I should have gone with her, Mohsina’s reason for keeping me out of it of made some sense.

Though I tried to fight her on it, I knew if I persisted it would just make her fight me more, and I didn’t need more of that. Already, her fingers were bare as she busied herself with Zaid, and I couldn’t help but feel gutted about it.

”You’re still here,” she said to me unhappily with Zaid perched contentedly  on her hip.

It wasn’t a question. It was a warning and a reprimand for me, but I ignored it.

And I wanted to kick myself because I hated that I agreed to her request of me leaving today. I hated the entire idea but with every passing day, Mohsina was pushing me further away, trying to keep me as far away from her as possible.

”I was waiting for you.”

I wasn’t afraid to say it. Maybe I was making this harder than it should have been. But maybe I was a little upset because of everything that had happened.

It wasn’t that I blamed Mohsina for the situation. I was just upset at how she was dealing with it.

Taking off work with the excuse of seeing to my wife’s law suit would raise bigger questions and we had bigger fish to fry right then. Instead we got Zaid a nanny and left them with Liyaket’s mother for a few hours, and since her day had taken longer than anticipated, I had fetched him on my way back from work.

Now it was time for me to leave, but I was only hoping that Mohsina would somehow have some good news or a change of heart, and things would go back to normal.

Somehow we could just pretend that the past two weeks never happened and things could go back to how we always knew it.

Every minute, every moment spent without my family as a single unit felt like some sort of torture.

I watched Mohsina shoot me a frown before tugging at her scarf before she walked across the room, barely looking at me.

I watched her as I wondered what had happened. Did she manage to get them to settle? Did she manage to get her name off the nasty payments? Did any other evidence come up about the documents she signed?

I wanted to know everything but she was determined to tell me nothing. The unsaid war was mounting between us, and while I was hoping to hold onto our marriage as long as I could, Mohsina was already giving up, saying she didn’t want to make it harder for us by being around each other much longer.

I got her point, but damn… why was it still so hard?

“I missed you so much, baby boy,” Mohsina cooed softly, ignoring me while she settled Zaid into his chair with affection as he grabbed fistfuls of her tied up hair, and blabbered away.

He was so cute when he was like this, and I wanted to so badly pretend that everything was normal.

He lived for her. Sometimes I felt like Zaid was betraying me by being so attached to her, but I knew that this was how babies were. I sought refuge in the fact that once he got older, we would be best buds like his father and I.

My stagnant expression gave nothing away as I watched them both. There was a silent battle going on between the two of us, and one of us was going to back down.

I was refusing to let it be me.

Time was slipping away and I was aware that I had none left, but I was still holding on. Buying as much as I could while I scrounged around for some hope.

“Did you manage to make a settlement?”

It was my second question directed at her as I stood up, and I could see her flinching as I asked it. After all, it would solve everything. If the case would go away, none of this would have to change. We wouldn’t have to change.

“Can we not talk about this?” She mumbled, not looking at me. “I want to finish feeding Zaid. I haven’t see him the whole day. Can you just…”

She stopped awkwardly in mid sentence but I knew what she wanted to say, and my heart contracted painfully.

Leave.

She wanted me to leave.

What about me? I wanted to ask. You haven’t seen me the whole day either.

And I knew that she was doing this to make it easier, but it felt a thousand times harder. She wanted me to cut off all ties with her, so it wouldn’t affect me. What she didn’t know was that what she was doing was hurting me more than anything else.

And it was just as well that I didn’t go with Mohsina that day because besides wanting to punch Faadil in the face, I had a feeling that the entire thing wouldn’t have gone very well if I did.

And I wasn’t the type to hold a grudge but the guy had been a bad boss. A bad employee. A bad whatever-he-was-to-Mohsina.

I wasn’t an insecure guy, but the odds were against him. There was no chance I could ever warm up to him now.

Still, all that didn’t matter that much. What mattered was that he proved to be a Muslim who led his life as if he wasn’t even Muslim. He did horrible things. He stole money and got up to shady side deals in clubs, took random women as toys, and all this was playing on my mind the entire day while I thought of Mohsina going back and facing this guy once again.

I had plunged myself into audits that day, while Mohsina left to meet lawyers, keeping my mind off what the worst case scenario here could be, making much Duaa and trying to surrender to the concept of Taqdeer.

Trying to have full faith that Allah will still see this all through, and come out with the best solution for us all.

And in doing so, I had hope. Hope that she would tell me it’s all sorted, and I didn’t have to worry. Hope that this would all blow over, without any consequences. Hope that it would all just disappear.

And here she was, despite my own hopes, offering me no assurance that this was going to be okay.

That’s all I wanted for now, and she was giving me nothing to work with with.

“Mos,” I  said, grabbing my keys and moving now to stand right in front her, making her look at me while she tried to feed Zaid some mashed up looking carrots.

I wanted to reach out to her. To yank her pony. To pull her close. To make her laugh. To take her hand and assure her that it would be okay.

But I didn’t dare. This was far too gone.

“Did you sign the papers yet?”

Her tone was rigid as she said it and I sighed, turning away, already feeling deflated.

She didn’t say the word but I knew that it meant that we will still there.

The annulment of marriage contract.

It sounded so formal and morbid. She was now at this ugly point when she had decided to do the most disliked thing in the sight of Allah.

“I won’t.”

It was my standard reply and I treated it like a challenge. A challenge that entailed me doing everything I could to never sign those papers.

“It’s the only way,” she said softly, trying to appeal to me with the softness that sometimes cut through her steely personality.

“It’s not,” I insisted, my stance unyielding as I held her gaze.

“It is because their lawyers won’t budge,” she said, breaking eye contact and looking at Zaid as she spoke. “Faadil has no way of taking my name off the records completely. My name is already there and I’m guilty until proven innocent and I won’t let you take the fall for it too, Hamzah.”

She turned to me then and her eyes flared as she said it. I scowled at her.

“So you can take the fall for him but I can’t take the fall for you?”

She sighed.

”Hamzah.”

She said it as if she was talking to a kid.

I narrowed my eyes at her. That’s exactly how it was.

“Mohsina,” I said to her, in the exact same tone she had used with me.

Now was her turn to narrow her eyes.

We never fought.

We bickered and bantered with ease, on most occasions, but a full blown out fight wasn’t our thing. It felt precariously close to that situation.

“You know it’s not like that,” she said, her voice pleading and her eyes glistening. “I signed documents to say I took the money from him. He can’t just undo it.”

“You mean he doesn’t want to,” I said stiffly, knowing exactly how Bossman worked, and not prepared to fight her on this anymore.

She was so gullible, and the way she bought his stupid excuses, was exactly like Mohsina. While she appeared tough and impenetrable on the surface, I knew that my wife would never let anyone take a fall if she could help it. Even if they deserved it.

Mohsina was selfless to the point of exhaustion and whilst I loved what she had done for her family, I hated that it was what was making her want to resort to something that would break us both. It just didn’t make sense to me to let this ruin us.

All the fight had been fought already. I had no more left in me at this point.

Mohsina was silent as I watched her back, not even know whether I should wait for her response. I just knew that I couldn’t leave at that point. She said nothing and the more the silence persisted, the more restless I felt, and the more I couldn’t step out the door.

Zaid was painfully oblivious to the tension between us, all I could think about was how much this would affect him. How much I would miss him tonight, while I wasn’t with him. How our little family would be torn apart.

He had settled so well during the past month, and to have to upset his routine again was going to be the worst mistake. I wasn’t even sure how Mohsina was going to do it, but she was insistent that we could work out a proper agreement between us, so we could both alternate in keeping him, and he would barely feel it.

I begged to differ.

My entire family was going to be broken and Mohsina was taking it standing up.

“Why are you fighting this?” She finally asked, pulling Zaid out of the feeding chair and meeting me eye.  “I gave you the time you asked for and you said you would leave after. I’m not worth the hassle this would bring.”

Her last words struck my heart. She was worth it. She was worth every moment. But she hadn’t even given me enough time to show her that.

Three days. She had given me three days to pull something out to save us before she gave up completely. Was it worth that little to her? Was all this just an experiment?

Anger rose within me but I bit it back, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. If she wasn’t going to fight for us, someone had to, but we couldn’t be going crazy whilst doing it.

“I want more time,” I said flatly, knowing that I was going against what I had said but planning on pushing Zubair even more to come up with something that can turn the situation around. I was going to call him as soon as I left for Masjid. I was going to have to get something to salvage this. “Please.”

She looked slightly taken aback by my request. By the fact that I was literally begging her.

And why wouldn’t she? None of us ever thought that we would come to this point.

“Give me a reason,” she answered softly, looking up at me from the corner of her eye and taking me by surprise. “One good reason.”

I had gotten her to this point, and it was just enough for me to give this my all. My wife’s eyes were hopeful as she waited, and I couldn’t help but notice how painfully gorgeous she looked as her eyes lit up with something that resembled hope.

Hope. It was the only thing keeping me going. If it even existed here.

“Because you are worth it,” I said stubbornly, the words slipping out it my mouth before I could even think. “Because I don’t care about the money. About status. About my accreditation. Because despite everything I may lose, I’m still hoping for a happy ending here. Because I don’t care about everything that I may lose and even if I do, if I lose you, I will have nothing. Because you are everything, Mohsina. You and Zaid are everything to me. That’s why.”

She was stunned into silence as I spoke, her eyes wide as my voice rose a tad bit louder than intended.

Maybe I was getting a little carried away, but emotions were powerful stuff. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to feel that way, but I knew that Allah had brought us together for a reason and that before this curve ball, everything that this had brought, from leaving our old lifestyles to Zaid and our amazing family, was an immense blessing.

And I didn’t need another reason. That’s was the only reason why I was stalling and buying more time, hanging into threads of hope that could unite us once again, hoping that some miracle would happen that would that would bring her back to me, even if it was just for a teeny weeny snippet in time.

It was an intense moment as we stared at each other, almost in some sort of weird challenge, whilst Zaid mumbled something incoherent, oblivious to our emotions as our eyes spoke words none of us dared to say.

I love you, mine’s said with no reservation.

What if that’s not enough? Her’s question back.

The ringing of my phone in my pocket startled us but I ignored it, because I didn’t want Mohsina to push me out while I wasn’t ready to leave. At this point, it felt like everything was on the line and there was no way I was leaving today. I needed that time to prove that this wasn’t just a silly mistake that we had made. I needed to show that real love may just be what we actually had here.

And yes, I had let my guard down. There was a reason why I told Liyaket that I didn’t believe in love. Why I always wanted to be happy alone.

I thought that if I gave something my all, and it fell apart, I would never make it off the ground after. I didn’t want to shape my life around something, and then lose it. How do you survive the pain that feels like losing an organ? What if I actually learnt that I needed love, and I couldn’t have it?

But that’s why Allah gives us a solution, in everything we do. That’s why when we hand our hearts over, we still keep our focus solely on Him. Despite loving someone so deeply, you still love Allah above them, because He is your only anchor. Allah teaches us, over and over again, that beyond everything else, the only thing that still remains is His Loyalty.

Whoever loves for the sake of Allah and hates for the sake of Allah and gives for the sake of Allah and denies for the sake of Allah has completed his faith (Abu Dawud, Tirmidhi).

Everything was only for Him, through Him and because of Him. There is no loyalty but with Him.

And it was because of that that here I was, hanging on by a thread in choppy waters, knowing that at any second, even that thread could snap.

And it was at the most inappropriate moments that technology intervened, and Mohsina’s phone ringing interrupted my thoughts while I couldn’t help but glare at it like it was the bane of my life.

She too was snapped out of her own thoughts, and she looked at me apologetically and sighed, glancing at the phone as on the countertop.

”It’s Nani,” she said apprehensively, glancing at me and wiping her hands again as if to ask my permission to take it.

I immediately softened, glad it wasn’t anything to do with work. That might have been the final straw for me.

“Take it.”

My words still hung in the air as she picked up the phone, and I shifted my own attention to Zaid as I watched him attempt to toss some shell-shaped pasta off the feeding table. Throwing food discreetly off the feeding chair was one of his favourite hobbies.

Even though he was so mischievous, he was so cute at moments like those that it made me wonder what he was going to be like as he got older. I could only imagine how much naughtier he would get as the years went by, and the thought actually made me smile.

I grabbed what I could from his tightly fisted hands while Mohsina spoke, wiping his face and taking him to wash up while I listened to my wife try and speak normally.

Her cheeks were flushed, like they usually were when she was a little flustered, and it was obvious that she was still a bit overwhelmed from our conversation, and it made me hopeful that I had actually penetrated something. She had been  so rigid and unyielding these past few days. Nothing I could say would make her budge.

All I needed was time, to set this right. It would give me an opportunity to get something solid on Faadil. As much as I knew about his dodgy activities, I knew that I would only get what I needed if I gave Zubair more time and resources to find evidence to turn this whole thing around.

“No, I didn’t hear, Nani,” I could hear Mohsina saying, her voice steadying as she spoke again. “What happened?”

There was silence from my wife but I could hear Nani’s voice from where I was on the other side of the room. I couldn’t help but smirk as I did.

“Oh no,” Mohsina said softly. “I don’t think she thought about that.”

There was more animated talking again from the other end of the line, while I checked my own phone to see who had called, swallowing slightly nervously as I saw the name.

Zubair’s number was listed and I made a mental note to call him as soon as I got a moment. Perhaps it was something important. In fact, I was really hoping that it was.

Mohsina’s voice cut through my thoughts as she spoke again.

“Yes, it’s very soon but Nani-“

She was cut off by another audible burst of emotion and I actually stifled a smile as I turned to watch her while Zaid pulled at my beard with his clammy hands.

”Nani, I’m not sure if we can-“ she tried again, but I knew from past experience that there was probably no use even trying to talk her way out of whatever Nani wanted.

“Okay, I’ll ask Hamzah,” she said finally, and I could see her roll her eyes in frustration.

She was tired. And I was so glad for the diversion.

Something had shifted within her. With Nani, sometimes Mohsina seemed like an entirely different person.

Whatever Nani had said obviously wasn’t in her plan but it had somehow got me hopeful.

She said a few more words before finally greeting Nani, cutting the call and then looking at me worriedly.

I looked back at her, frowning slightly as I watched her fiddle with Zaid’s messed bib, and then wipe the table a third time, despite it being clean enough.

And it was weird that I was still sticking around, watching her like a creep when I was supposed to be gone, but her actions were making me wonder what was going on.

She was doing the same thing as I was. Stalling. Buying time, to make this less painful. Procrastinating reality, despite knowing where we were heading. Why though, the sudden change in approach… I had no idea.

It took a few minutes before she finally looked up at me, and gave me the reason for her temporary silence.

”I think you may have to just stick around a while longer,” she said stiffly, and I could feel my heart rate already increase as she said it.

Now that was good news.

I raised an eyebrow at her, not trusting myself to speak as yet. I was still partly in shock.

“I think you may know something about it,” she said, now looking at me questioningly. “Zubair wanting to meet Jameela?”

Ah. Puzzle pieces clicked into place as I recalled the conversation I had had with him after Mohsina told me about how upset Jameela was. It was a simple conversation, guy to guy, where I basically told him that there was no need for him to punish himself his entire life, because of his past. that Allah doesn’t hold our deeds against us, so why should he?

I had convinced him about the beauty of Nikah. Of how a woman may bring out a better part of him (he had actually laughed, when I wasn’t sure if the guy could even smile properly). I had convinced him that he didn’t need to be alone for the rest of his life, just because he felt like he deserved some sort of punishment.

This was before everything between Mohsina and I had spiralled downward.

I didn’t know that he had actually taken the conversation to heart. It meant that Zubair had actually changed his mind about what he wanted in life, and I may have been the reason for it.

How ironic. On the brink of my marriage collapsing, he was making one for himself.

”Nani wants to talk to us altogether,” she said stiffly, wiping her wet hands on a dish cloth. “And we will have to be there together on Sunday too so I guess…”

I breathed out as she trailed off, feeling an immense surge of relief and gratitude as she said it.

Allah Ta’ala had somehow managed swayed the plan for me, and I knew that this was no coincidence.

It wasn’t what I expected but it was more than I deserved.

It was just what I needed to buy more time, and turn this entire thing around.

Whether it would actually work, was another question entirely…

---

Mission Sunnah Revival

Sunnah of Thinking Good about others  

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

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

Ominous Obsessions

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 57

Rabia

Old habits die hard.

And in actuality, the fact of the matter was that for this habit… well, I wasn’t exactly putting in the effort to even try kill it.

And with the risk of it sounding like addictive behaviour, as I scrolled mindlessly through the application that had pretty much taken over my life… I didn’t realise that it was precisely that addiction that was deterring the positive impact on my mental health and well-being, giving rise to cynicism at even the slightest of remarks…

“She’s such a lovely, simple girl,” I caught Bibi Masie murmuring to my mother as they emptied the pot of pasta into the Pyrex on the kitchen counter, and my eyes were already narrowing. “They make such a beautiful couple.”

The sun was shining brightly through the kitchen windows, not even doing a thing for my peace of mind as I squinted at them, while I sat on the bar stool, without them even registering my bemused expression. Mohsina had walked by and offered to help but they had shooed her away while they got lunch ready before the ‘city people’ headed back home. I didn’t even bother myself, as I tapped on my phone. They would sort it out.

But as she made the comment about Mohsina, I had managed a fake cough and a roll of the eyes as I forced myself to switch apps and scrolled through some WhatsApp statuses on my phone instead, still unable to believe that I had actually heard what she had said right then.

Lovely, simple girl? I mean, have they even seen her Instagram profile?

The girl was anything but simple. From swanky handbags to flashy cars, she had always been obsessed with flashing all her best, expensive bits, and now my brother would probably have to foot the bill for it.

And okay, maybe I was a little crazy at times but it just happened to be that I was famous for calling a spade, a spade and I couldn’t help the shock I felt when I heard the words that literally made me do a double take.

Okay, so maybe I should put my phone down.

You see, I had gone through a bad patch when I was going through a bit of heartbreak. The thing was, any experience of seeing my ex’s name on Instagram or any social media platform killed me. I was pretty down and found myself using Instagram to either ‘punish’ myself by looking at his profile and spying on him, or using the browse feature to distract me.

And as I went through the daily motions of cyber-stalking, checking my feed and not even succeeding in stopping myself there, I could feel the need to put my phone down before I slipped into dangerous territory, but I never did.

Back to Mohsina though. Although she had somehow changed a little of what she used to be, they made Mohsina sound like some kind of homely, perfect housewife, when she was the complete opposite of it.

“The farm is good for them,” I caught Mummy nodding and enjoying the compliments of her daughter-in-law as she retied her apron, not even noticing the hostile look on my face. “Zaid loves it… and I think Hamzah is surprised at how much Mohsina is actually taking to being outdoors here. It so peaceful, Alhumdulillah. You know these young people nowadays. Too used to their home and office routines. He kept telling me that they are city people, and it was too far to come, but look at them now…”

Hah.

Too far. What bullshit. Mohsina had probably been spewing venom into my brother’s ears about spending time with his family, which made him not want to come out here. Girls were never happy about doing in-law time these days.

And ever since their constant disappearing stints that seemed be happening more often, I couldn’t help but find myself getting all the more frustrated at the new couple and their annoying tendencies. The fact that they had basically deprived me of being with my nephew and hadn’t even asked me to babysit ever since the day I took him out, was the absolute limit.

And okay, I know that I made Mohsina get a little more aggro than her usual and it had made Hamzah angry but those two really needed to grow up and learn to deal with stuff. A little argument here and there never hurt anyone.

I had even tried to swindle Saaliha and make her hand him over while they were gone, but apparently Mohsina had given her explicit instructions and being the goodie-two-shoes she was, there was no way she would ever go against what Mohsina had said.

Messaging Hamzah that morning with my rants had fallen on deaf ears, and it peeved me even more when he replied in two short sentences:

You’re overreacting. Will chat later.

And for me, this was the ultimate betrayal. It was one thing that Mohsina completely disregarded my abilities take care of Zaid, but the more disturbing fact was that my own brother took his wife’s side, time and time again. 

It was all he said and there was nothing else I could do but dig my fingernails into my palms and grit my teeth, as they both passed through the kitchen again to reach the patio, before I said something that would ruthlessly expose Mohsina for the cow that she really was.

And because I knew that my brother was anything but the sweet and doting type, I couldn’t help but feel even more aggravated as I watched him obsess over his wife relentlessly for the most part of the weekend they were there. Currently, he had just stubbed his cigarette and came inside to fetch them something to drink. To tell the truth, the way they had both been acting, especially since Mohsina had started feeding Zaid, was actually making me feel a bit sick.

I mean, no one was forcing her to be this model mother and breastfeed Zaid. Personally, I just felt like she was doing it so she could hang onto him more. Hamzah made it seem as if she was doing some huge kind of great sacrifice, just because she was breastfeeding. I mean, people did it in their sleep… So what on earth was the big deal even?

“Hamzah is like a different person today,” Ma, my mother’s mother, murmured as she watched Hamzah closely, who was completely unaware of the eyes on them as he sat next to my new sister-in-law, head bent as he opened the two bottles of Coke he had brought out and engaged with her on the bench just outside.

They were so close together that I could think of nothing more than going over there and banging their heads together.

“Ma, Hamzah’s in love,” my Aunty said with a admiring smile on her face, and I honestly felt like I wanted to barf. “Of course he is different to what he used to be. He’s no more that little boy you used to scold for chasing the sheep.”

And though I wanted to laugh at the memory of little Hamzah being the horrific nuisance he had always been as a kid on Eid day, I was seriously too caught up in my own demonic thoughts to even humour myself.

Just like Imraan had always been Ma’s favourite, Hamzah had always been my Bibi Masie’s favourite and she never even had the decency to deny it. It was obvious that the two of them had probably had a heart-to-heart earlier, from the way she said it so confidently.

I was actually dying to know what else he had said to her, and with all the extra hands around today, being the day after we had Eid here, the newlyweds had plenty of alone time to be all icky and romantic.

It was just as well that no other men were around then. Couples who were in love made me feel irked. It wasn’t that I was jealous or anything, but well… I suppose you could call it an aversion, because the entire love thing had just gave me chills.

And okay.. having to abandon a marriage because the man who you loved was in love with someone else could have been part of the reason for me, but never mind that. I’m not here to vent about my own misfortunes. I just silently wished that they would stop being all over each other because every time I cast my gaze toward them, it was making me increasingly vexed…

And I knew I was being a little bitter but I couldn’t but feel that way. The fact that I wasn’t getting my dose of Zaid while he was being spoilt by everyone else was unsettling me even further.

Plus, it didn’t help that that Ma actually seemed to have warmed to the whole concept and even encouraged their despicable mushy behaviour.

Considering that, I couldn’t quite believe how she was acting now. In fact, at the time before their Nikah, Ma and I were the only people who weren’t keen on them getting married so fast, but for different reasons. For Ma, from the onset, she had always pictured Hamzah with someone a little different. More homely. I supposed being old-fashioned, when she heard that Mohsina and Hamzah had worked together, it didn’t really sit well with her that little Zaid would be such a deciding factor for them. Ma felt that just because there was a baby involved, it would really make things harder for them instead.

And I do admit that Ma’s reason made sense. It was the glaringly obvious hang-ups. No one liked over-educated girls. I knew that she felt that maybe Mohsina wasn’t cut out for being a wife. She had commented that Hamzah was used to being spoilt and she had her doubts about him having to adjust to the situation between them, and I completely agreed.

As for me… well, I would never say it aloud… but my reason had always been that I just didn’t want Mohsina as part of my family. Period.

And let me just be honest. I’m not really the interfering type. Okay. So now and then, when I tend to get a bit peeved, then I may stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong. But all in all, I’m not really that horrible.

And let me just make it clear again,. I wasn’t exactly sure what happened that weekend and neither was I quite sure of when exactly things spiralled out of control. The thing was, I fully believed that all I was doing, was trying to be helpful and keep myself busy without getting in anyone’s way. Well, for the most part.

And that’s what bugged me about Mohsina. Even when I tried to be helpful, well… she never acknowledged it. And it was no secret that from the first time I had met her, things weren’t exactly starting off on the most amazing note, and I could tell that the feelings were reciprocated.

Seeing Mohsina for the first time at the farm all those months ago, her particularly fetching features slightly enhanced by the glaring light of the sun that day, while I watched her from afar, was something I never forgot.

The domineering streak she had in her eye was already causing alarm bells to ring, and it was etched in my memory since.

I had just completed my iddat two weeks before that, and Liyakets wedding was supposed to be the event whereafter everything was just falling into place. The debut. My life was supposed go from zero to ten and Mohsina’s unyielding attitude that day had put me completely off base.

And I should have just blamed Hamzah, because it really was his fault from the beginning. My idiot brother. Maybe he was avoiding getting involved. Maybe he didn’t want to cross boundaries. But it was because of my annoying brother that I had to go up to her myself, trying to be as polite as I can, but still firmly trying to ascertain what exactly was going on when an unexpected guest arrived on the scene.

I still remembered the words clearly, as she looked at me, her eyes boring into mine, almost as if she was challenging me, when I asked if she knew who that horrible girl was, who was causing a huge ruckus.

I mean, the entire function was just being ruined with this turn of events and I desperately needed it under control.

She had cocked her prettily made-up head slightly and narrowed her eyes to slits, and her ‘office girls’ remark had immediately made me see red.

And I didn’t think I was wrong, for wanting them both out after that. The girl was already attracting bad attention and we couldn’t risk this sort of thing here, plus Mohsina was just being plain down rude about it.

And of course, her outburst was completely out of line, as far as I was concerned. She was getting in my way. It was my duty to make sure everything was smooth. My property and my rules. How dare she be so rude and indignant when I was trying to help maintain a peaceful atmosphere?

Besides that, the fact that she had so proudly stated that she was an office girl was completely unnecessary. It had been a pretty touchy subject for me and her rubbing in the part of my marriage that had gone seriously wrong was something that was obviously intentional.

I figured out that she had her sights on my brother and it only made sense that she had probably checked on me as well. It was the very obvious explanation that my brother never agreed with, but I firmly believed. From the start, Mohsina was out to get me, and I was going to make sure that I wouldn’t let her.

But incidentally, emotion is emotion. You can’t just switch them off, and as far as emotions go… well, recently, mine had been a little out of whack and I didn’t exactly think that they could be anything but justified.

And so, first impressions aside, I had tried to let bygones be bygones and realised that maybe I had to just try to divert my train of emotion and make the most of the situation when after months of uncertainty and Liyaket’s death, everything had finally come together for them.

And the death has shaken us all up. For a while, it was like a complete change of mindset for us all. But slowly, as we forget, we slip into old habits, and after Ramadhaan was over, I had basically found myself grappling even more desperately to stay on track.

And though I didn’t exactly want her as a sister-in-law, I knew that I wouldn’t have much of a say, so I had to cut my losses and move forward. Zaid was the ultimate catch. After all, he had become one of my favourites and spending more time with him now that Hamzah had married Mohsina trumped everything. And at that time when I had hoped that my brothers only reason for marrying Mohsina was Zaid, I didn’t exactly expect the entire thing to poke me in the behind and them to actually romancing each other at inappropriate times.

And of course, I couldn’t help but wonder again, what about everything that had happened in between? What about the proposal breaking on a whim, and then going all out on social media… living the life of an instagram diva?

Man, it was wild.

It had been post after post, reel after reel. She had done selfies and TikTok’s and some of them had really cracked me up.

It seemed as if every ounce of her was being channeled into the most awesome and gripping content, and during that time, I had become obsessed with following her, those few months, waiting to see how amazing her next expedition of adventure would be. What would happen next in her high flying life.

I had to admit… the girl had a knack with her stuff. She was so onto the trends. All of my instagram friends followed her and her pursuits, and I had even seen her at one of their Instafam meet ups. The pictures she posted were goals and her entire feed was amazing enough to think that it was absolutely real.

And then of course, because I followed her closely, were the mysterious pictures of an odd bunch of roses or a new perfume she was gifted, that would make her followers go wild in wonder. The picture of an un-tagged male silhouette that sparked some suspenseful interest was remembered too…

I wished that I had screen-grabbed those stories as evidence, but I had been so taken aback by the hype at the time, that I didn’t even think to. It was all very innocuous and private, but everyone knew that there was a special someone… until all of a sudden… the car accident happened and she had posted that there was a pressing emergency matter and though she would miss her loyal followers, she needed time away from social media to cope.

And bam. Just like that, that was that.

Her profile went semi-dead after, and though I constantly went back to check on her, I could see that slowly, all the incriminating evidence was probably archived or deleted and instead of the alluringly enviable life she had lead, was now a stagnant page with hardly any mind-blowing content.

The Nikah announcement post when she and Hamzah had gotten married was a generic picture and after that, I could see that @mostlymohsina and her fame was something of the past. I knew my brother wanted it that way too, and although it seemed like such a loss, there was not much I could do about it.

But I couldn’t stop checking, even if it wasn’t only her. To tell the truth, I had become a little obsessed. Often times, i had become accustomed to doing nothing of note – except sitting on Instagram. Every time I opened the app, I was presented with an endless feed of friends and family doing incredible things, having a wonderful time, without me.

And that’s the crux of the game, isn’t it? I mean, last week, there was the school friend whose wedding I wasn’t invited to; having found out about it through the gram. Then there was the family friend’s daughter who looks like the bomb after every workout and stops at nothing to let us know that we simply couldn’t touch her. And there’s the old bff who lives in Europe with her husband and is apparently back home for the summer holidays without even letting me know.

Social media was a grind. Fomo was real and damaging.

And though I knew that it was moulding me into a dissatisfied and ungrateful sort of person, I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop wasting time. From starting off with purer intentions, the profiles I now frequented had no link with Allah because often these profiles are made in such a way that they automatically beam a lot of negativity and immodesty. And this, of course, did nothing for my inner peace and reflection. I was increasingly on edge. The mental health took a turn for the worst, making me unproductive, distracted, and increasingly unmotivated. It was a horrible and vicious cycle that continued endlessly, and time was becoming more and more dispensable as I kept on wasting it on screen time…

There are two blessings which many people waste: health and free time.
Sahih Bukhari, 6049

And as my free time dwindled away, the feelings of inadequacy and discontent were mounting and when I eventually checked back into reality, everything else seemed so much more bleaker than ever, and just made me all the more frustrated.

With my mind in a constant huff in person, I couldn’t help but notice more flaws with everyone else. Come when the newlyweds visited the farm, with all the available hands to take care of Zaid, the two lovebirds were obviously on honeymoon island and I still wasn’t good enough to look after Zaid. I just knew that Mohsina had told Saaliha that with the intention of completely hating on me.

And of course, as I scrolled through Instagram later that day, really not feeling like socialising while everyone sat for lunch, double tapping mindlessly as I saw pics of friends with their families and babies, loving how glamorous and blissful the life looked, I couldn’t help but narrow my eyes as I thought about what a sneaky cow my new sister-in-law was. If only everyone knew what she was really about. Wouldn’t that be a complete shock? 

“Rabia, please come and eat,” Saaliha said sweetly as she adjusted her niqab, and I shook my head stubbornly, not wanting to join in at the table. “We’re waiting for you.”

”I’m not hungry,” I said bluntly, ignoring my mothers peeved looks from where she sat.

I could see Mohsina eyeing me out too, but she said nothing, and I didn’t even offer her a glance.

I knew it was bad manners to sit with my phone at meal times but I wasn’t in the mood to hear lectures. Zaid was also taking a nap after all the  attention he had gotten, so there I was, feeling as dejected and sorry for myself than ever. Caught up in my online identity, I had actually forgotten that I had a real identity, off the net.

All I could think of was why everyone else’s lives worked out perfectly and I was still stuck on some kind of unlucky train.

How come nothing ever worked out for me or no one ever came through the way I wanted? It was often that I wondered… what did I really do wrong to deserve the kind of life I had? How did I even deserve this stigma that felt like I was paying for something I did wrong, every single day…

And now, as I felt myself comparing my life to everyone else’s, and Mohsina talked and laughed and basically acted as if nothing had happened when she had completely sidelined me… I  could feel my anger heightening.

Without even realising it, I was back in Instagram and on her profile, searching through for something… anything… I could fuel my anger with.

Every influential profile has those. A negative comment or hostile response.The people who are out to get you, or make you lose a following.

And of course, like any influencer, I could see below a few of her posts that there was a fair share of mild negativity.

All I wanted to do was get under her skin the way she had gotten under mine.

I wasn’t quite prepared for the consequences or what would happen after. What I did know was that I wanted to get back at her, and cause her as much trouble as she had caused me.

It took me a while to hatch a plan. I knew that’s Mohsina’s instagram account was paramount in her life, even if she wasn’t that active. I figured that doing some small damage in the form of a peeved follower might teach her a small lesson, but I wasn’t completely certain about how to go about it.

And I wasn’t exactly certain about what I would find. I wasn’t even sure if there was anything to find. I was basically taking shots in the dark, when I put the comment out there, from one of my unknown accounts.

And having so many accounts that I used for different purposes, well, there was no risk of her finding out it was me. All I wanted to do was create a little stir, and get people to talk a bit. I had full intention of trampling the rumours about her ominous activities after a few days and letting people know that the @mostlymohsina controversy I had sparked was really not true at all. I had full intention of squashing the whole thing, not even realising how my obsession with social media was getting completely out of control.

What I didn’t know was that through my ominous intentions, there was something very incriminating that would come to my knowledge and the forefront… and would threaten to topple everything else too…

---

A little bit of a different perspective as the plot thickens. It’s been a bit quiet and I always love to hear the readers comments on this development.
JazakAllah to all for the likes and for reading… may we benefit from the lessons ❤️

Mission Sunnah Revival

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

When Adventures Begin

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 53

There are moments in your life when you realise that time is divided into two parts- that’s there’s a before and there’s an after, and you realize that nothing will ever be the same again.

Okay I’m just kidding. But honestly, I could not believe this was happening to me. The first day I decided to use a stove and load shedding gets right in the middle of my good house-wife plans. No electricity from 6AM that morning was really a pain in the most inconvenient places.

You see, when Hamzah told me that the stove was gas, I figured it would be no issue. I didn’t know that you literally had to burn your fingers off before getting a decent flame to cook with. And after striking the match about a hundred times, I had finally got somewhere, before I managed to crack an egg in the stainless steel bowl I had found in the third drawer. I had attempted what I would have found impossible at any other point in my life.

I was just as bad as figuring the kitchen utensils but I knew that today, more than any other day, when Zaid was busy gurgling away in his bouncer and feeling like a king, and Rabia wasn’t around, would be a good day to start learning. At least it meant that I  could have the kitchen to myself and not have to worry about her watching me like the incapable chef that I was.

“Are you using the stove yet?” Hamzah called in a concerned tone, from the top of the stairs. “Are you sure you okay?”

”Im fine!” I said bluntly.

Gosh, how rude. It was his code for saying: “Please don’t burn the house down.”

He was worse than Nani.

“Hamzah seems to think we can’t cook,” I said quietly to Zaid, who was smiling at me adorably. “Let’s give him the shock of his life, okay?”

Zaid gurgled happily, looking exceptionally pleased with the idea. I wished I could knock him for a six with a 5 course breakfast but it was a tall order. Eggs and baked beans were all I could manage for now.

Yes, I was a bit insulted but I sucked it up and poured the egg into the hot pan with oil , watching it splutter with glee as I took a step back, a little concerned for my face. Like, what if the gas exploded and hit me? It was the first time I had used a gas stove and I didn’t have a death wish.

Also, I was super annoyed because I couldn’t even send Jameela and Nani a picture of my cooking accomplishments right then, because signal was as crappy as ever. Nani had already sent me some easy recipes and a request for pictures and I had gotten the hint that cooking for Hamzah was an essential.  She was convinced that Hamzah’s sole purpose in life was to be fed three full meals a day, and he wasn’t exactly self sufficient. The most he could do was boil kettle water and burn toast.

Right now though, I couldn’t even pacify her with evidence of anything worthy.

With the lack of basic privileges we become accustomed to, it sometimes felt as if I lived on an entirely different planet.

And I hadn’t realized it yet, but I ought to have understood by then that gratitude is magic. That electricity, water, WiFi and even petrol or all bounties of Allah Ta’ala and the thing is we have done nothing to earn our bounties, yet, regardless, we’ve been blessed with it.

What we didn’t realise was that sometimes Allah was saving us from other harms, in the process of not having that signal to message and call someone. Perhaps we were getting saved from some gossip, or argument, when that call couldn’t be made. Perhaps we are getting relieved of some Haraam in the fact that WiFi wasn’t always at our disposal. The thing was, all these favours were gifts from Allah Ta’ala that we take for granted.

And as the egg blubbered all happily and so did Zaid, I felt amazingly accomplished as I tossed around, feeling a bit more optimistic about the way things were heading.

I just hoped that the food would be edible and Hamzah would live to tell the tale. Also, well, this was way too early in the morning for me to even start with kitchen shenanigans, but it was just as well that I had already woken up to the sound of the shower water running, and there was barely even a sliver of daylight in the sky.

I had no idea that Hamzah was such an aspiring early bird. His waking up routine was a little bit too much for my own laid-back one, but I knew that marriage was a ball game that I’d have to start playing properly at some time. I wasn’t even sure where he had gone to before the crack of dawn, but he took a while to come back after Fajr and I was glad that I had a little bit of time before making my way down.

The thing was, my in-laws would all be back tomorrow and I knew that I had to at least be competent at some cooking. Hamzah could not survive on cheesecakes and pastries for the rest of our lives.

Also, well, the point of immersing myself in my cooking  task was due to me trying to get my mind off yesterday’s horrifying images as fast as I could. There was so much that had happened in such a short space of time, and I couldn’t hell but feel a little overwhelmed by the events.

Somehow, I just felt more responsible. I wanted to prove more, that I was doing a good job, before anything else stood in our way.

And the thing was, yesterday, we barely had any time to discuss it any of the issues that were lurking.  Hamzah had been rushing for Esha salaah, and I had let him focus on driving because I knew very well how he hated to miss Salaah in Jamaat. The only concern was that the traffic was appearing to intensify as we moved along the main highway.

I wanted to know his real thoughts on the doctors advice but as the traffic doubled up and we moved at a snails pace along the main freeway, my thoughts were halted as sirens from behind us started blaring, and I literally went cold as the scene ahead of us already came into view.

Naturally, all other thoughts were shelved as I looked out now, into the stack of cars that were ahead. Hamzah’s window was slightly open due to the cigarette he had been smoking earlier, and I could already hear people in the next car talking, their phones out their window, trying to capture the graphic scene ahead, as the chaos around us ensued.

And as much as I wanted to block my ears as they started talking, their voices were still as clear as day.

“Ya Allah, there’s a baby in that car,” someone was almost screaming. “Put the phones away, its not right!”

The person had a point. This was someone’s worst nightmare. A horrible tragedy that could be fatal. Capturing it on camera seemed so heartless, but who cares these days?

My heart pounded in my chest, as I closed my eyes, knowing that we were nearly at the scene. It seemed like it had just happened and I couldn’t bear it…

For a minute, as I held my breath, I was almost hesitant to look, for fear of what I would see.

”There’s a small child in the car!” Someone screamed again, and without even casting a sideways glance, Hamzah’s finger pressed down on the button, eager to shut out all the sounds, my mind going into overdrive as I processed what this meant.

I couldn’t even look at him at that point. All I could think of was how Hamzah was still going to move past this devastating collision, the part where two cars were already overturned and the truck was on its side. The part where all I could think of was our dearest friends who had just passed on. I wasn’t sure how we were going to keep ourselves together as we egged on, but all I knew right then was that I couldn’t  bare to cast my gaze anywhere on the road.

And of course, I could barely do anything else beside hastily turned my face away as we got closer, not wanting to even process the condition of the truck on the side of the road and unsightly smashed cars.

I didn’t even realised that I was holding my breath as I kept my eyes shut, hearing Hamzah’s breath quicken and clutching Zaid a little tighter as we by passed the main point of congestion, already aware that Hamzah was purposely going a little faster than the other drivers. While other cars were slowing down to get a good look at the accident scene,  Hamzah sped up, trying his best to move past it all, without having to directly process it, and I knew exactly why.

My heart was already contracting painfully, as I remembered that fateful night.

The baby. There’s a baby. There’s a baby in the car.

The car was a crumpled mess and the words were still echoing in my ears. The emotions that had pulsated through me then were still wrecking havoc within. The whole scenario was something that I could barely, for the life of me, come to terms with.

And it was undeniable that everywhere we turned, there was a reminder about our friends that we just didn’t have the heart to deal with as yet.  I heard that there had been pictures of Liyaket’s car, but I knew that I couldn’t dare to look at them.

This was close. Too close for comfort. Seeing the accident scene was something that had caught us both completely off guard, and as my heart pounded in my chest, nervous about the outcome of what exactly was going to happen here, I couldn’t help but feel myself shudder at the possibilities.

Riveted by what we had just been faced with, even after passing the worst of it, I could sense the obvious trauma and discomfort.

And like it had never happened at all, the car was silent again, except for Zaid’s breathing. Both Hamzah and I were too shaken to even talk. I looked out the window, tears streaming down my face, as I tried to keep it together. Internally, I could tell that Hamzah felt exactly the same way, but he expertly held himself back.

It didn’t take long to get home after he stopped for Salaah at a mosque on the way. We had entered the silent house, walking up to our room, placing Zaid down in the cot Hamzah had bought for him, still reeling from the shock of what we had just witnessed. The house seemed almost lonely without Rabia’s noise there. Rabia had gone to her cousin ten minutes away, on account of us coming home so late.

And of course, a half hour after we had seen it, I could not stop thinking about it. For a while, I wished that I did look. At least then, I would have known what had really happened, instead of tormenting myself and thinking of the worst possible scenario.

And I wanted to ask Hamzah about it… to talk about the accident and to touch base with how we all felt, but I couldn’t bring myself to. I didn’t want to bring it up, to revisit that place, to go back to the place where I was on that fateful night, while I sat in my upmarket Hammond’s apartment up to no good, before my life had changed so suddenly.

For a few minutes, I couldn’t meet his eye.

I kept myself busy, as he hung up his kurta and I took off my abaya. My scarf was unpinned and placed over the chair. My motions were purposely slow as I did it, feeling the intensity of his gaze on me, as I finally met his it…

I hadn’t trusted myself to say anything. The room sounded almost eerily quiet, and there was not even a sound that was coming from outside. For the first time that week, we were completely alone and we could barely even think of words to say to each other.

But I knew I had to, as he came closer, almost as if he didn’t quite understand how to deal with this… we didn’t know how to seek comfort after this.

It felt like just yesterday, when that sting of loss had sunk us to the depths of grief. It felt like hours ago when I had first gotten the call, telling me that my friend had lost her life, much earlier than I would have ever imagined.

Everything was coming at us like never before, and though it had nearly broken us inside, we knew that we had to accept it. We knew that the reminder was just what was needed for us to seek the truth of what we knew.

Allah Ta’ala says in the Holy Qur’an:

”And say to them, Oh Muhammed (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam), the things of this world are few (temporary), the things of the Aakhirah is better for him who fears Allah; you shall not be wronged (even the amount of) a single date fibre. Wherever you are, death will reach you, even if you’re in strong and high towers.” (An Nisah 77-78)

And now, as I stirred the baked beans and heard Hamzah making his way downstairs, I couldn’t help but think of how much Hamzah had matured over these months. All I could think of was that a helluva lot more than what I knew must have happened for him to have become the man he had. One day, I hoped that his experiences and thoughts would be narrated to me, and I could get a glimpse into what was really on his mind…

“Zaidoo!”

I turned to look at him as Hamzah’s voice cut into my thoughts now, as I buttered the toast, placing it on the side plate as he picked Zaid out of the bouncer. I mean, I wouldn’t usually butter someone’s toast but I’d always seen my mother do it for my father and it just seemed like a cute thing for couples to do for each other.

And naturally, as I caught the scent of his familiar oud, whilst I just smelt of onion and oil, the awkwardness was unparalleled. And though I had actually made an effort to look as good as I could early on a Saturday morning, I was still wearing my bunny slippers and I just felt a little ridiculous as I snuck a glance at him, dressed in a fitted sage t-shirt with a white three-quarter pants, all ready for the day. Also, it was super nerve-wrecking because he was looking at the food a little reservedly, almost as if he wasn’t quite sure whether he should tuck into it or not, and I wasn’t even sure whether to invite him to.

”This looks good,” he said optimistically, giving me a thumbs up. I didn’t want to tell him that looks could be deceiving and he should taste it first, so I just smiled back nervously.

And of course, if he was wary, he hid it well. He had already headed the safe route by taking a toast from the plate and biting into it. I was scrutinising his every move and I knew I was acting crazy but I couldn’t help feel excessively nervous.

And of course, I was extremely relieved that the toast wasn’t burnt, and his hand slowly ventured towards the baked beans spoon, as I simultaneously tried very hard to distract myself and bring some tea cups to the table.

This was very awkward but I knew that I had to act natural. Like I cooked for my new husband every day.

”It’s good, Mos,” Hamzah finally said with a smile, and even if it was forced, I didn’t care.  I did appreciate the compliment, but as I was about to dish out too, Hamzah’s phone from behind me just started ringing and I hastily got up to bring it to him.

And I didn’t even notice Hamzah’s slightly panicked look as he saw me reach for it, and I was hardly the sneakish type, but I couldn’t help but notice the caller ID that had popped up on the screen a few minutes before.

For a minute, I was just stumped. It had jolted me a bit, but not in an entirely bad way, as I processed exactly what it said, and passed it to him, not able to really comprehend what it meant.

Your Jannah is Calling.

Like, my heart was literally endowed with amazement for this man by now.

It was like an awakening for my dormant soul became I could not really process what a unique thing Hamzah had saved his mother as, and how that made me feel right then.

I mean, imagine if I were the reason for someone’s Jannah? Imagine if I appeared in that way on someone’s caller ID. What an honour that was… to be the reason for their Jannah.

As much as I wanted to have my own kids at some point, the fact was, I hadn’t thought about it recently. I had been so consumed by Zaid and then by marriage with Zaid, that my own needs had been completely sidelined.

“Mummy,” Hamzah said instantly as he answered, glancing at me a little weirdly and then turning away. “Wa alaykum Salaam.”

I could hear my mother-in-laws voice on the other side, and as he answered I could see that she was asking after Zaid and how he was feeling.

“Sure, I’ll call you back, Mums,” he said quietly, after he answered the first three questions. “Just having some breakfast. Mohsina went all out this morning.”

I flushed because he couldn’t have been farther than the truth. But shame, it was sweet of him to make me seem like I was being a good wife. Also, he barely even acknowledged his compliment as he cut the call, looking at me, and then frowning slighy as if he was deliberating if he should really say what he wanted to.

“So you’re really going to do it?” He asked finally, looking at me questioningly.

I was a bit confused as I munched on my toast and looked back at him, I hadn’t even realised that I had been fiddling with the bottles that the doctor had prescribed for me the day before.

“Do what?” I asked, and he gestured to the them. And it seemed coincidental and maybe even subconsciously…. because I had just been thinking of that very amazing thing…

”The feeding thing,” he said with a slight smile, sitting back and pouring water into his cup for tea. I could see him looking inside to check if the teabag was there, and of course, if wasn’t.

I passed him one from the counter top, trying hard to keep a straight face. I had no idea that Hamzah was so pampered.

”I don’t know,” I said, to answer him.

Which was true. The feeding thing. I liked what he called it, and it was an awkward topic. And of course, I wanted to have this full on discussion, to weigh the pros and the cons and talk about the doctors advice as a couple doing this but there was one thing that was holding me back.

“I’m still so two-minded,” I said, pulling a slight face. “I don’t know which side of the fence I fall on. I mean, I don’t even know if I would have breastfed my own kids and I’ve been hearing so much about how it can change your body and stuff…”

Oh gosh, now I just sounded shallow and forward too. Hamzah and I hadn’t even discussed having our own kids, but Maahira had been telling me stuff that had been making me hesitant and I couldn’t seem to stop the worry. Hamzah didn’t meet my eye.

“I just feel like I’m stepping over the limit here,” I said quickly, before he got any odd idea, knowing that it was my main reason for holding back.

I was stepping over the limit. But where were the limits even? What Hamzah and I were in… well, I wasn’t even sure.

And I was feeling all flustered because the crux of it was that I almost felt as if I was taking Layyanah’s place. The feeling had been coming at me, from the week before, when I met Layyanahs sister, but it was now as clear as ever, as I wondered what exactly to do.

It took him a few seconds before Hamzah spoke.

“Mos… I think we need to face up to what’s happened,” he said quietly, his gaze not meeting mine, as he put some sugar in his tea.

I nodded, looking at him questioningly, before he started talking again.

“I’ve been living as if I’m waiting for Liyaket to come back and tell me what to do. Im so used to him giving me advice. Asking him where to go from here. Living as if life is on pause, until that happens. I’ve been living as if I can’t live… you know? But that’s not what death is supposed to be. It’s not supposed to be so hard on us, that we lose hope in life.”

I nodded, swallowing hard, feeling like I wanted to cry again. As if yesterday wasn’t enough for us.

I couldn’t think of what to say. I felt like a traitor. Like we were living the life that they were supposed to be living sometimes.

“I went to the graveyard today,” he said softly, glancing at me. “For the first time since Liyaket passed.”

My heart kind of plummeted in my chest as he said it. For the first time?

“I know I’m terrible… and it’s my fault,” Hamzah said quietly, his voice dropping even more. “We need to stop tiptoeing around Liyaket and Layyanah’s life. We need to go back to their home. We need to visit the places we used to meet them. Do the things we used to do with them. We need to show Zaid more of what his parents were.”

I sat there silently, not even touching my food, my heart bursting with emotion, but knowing that he was undeniably right. We were behaving as if they were going to come back and question us, or reclaim what was theirs. We were living our lives in their shadow. Afraid to accept the reality.

“You’re right,” I said, my voice not quite coming out the way I wanted it to, as I glanced at Zaid who was rubbing his eyes now, and looking quite tired. I needed to snap back to reality. Stop waiting for Layyanah. Stop feeling guilty.

“So I’ve been doing some research,” I said, looking at him as I spoke. “About all the things that can happen… the fatwas there are out there and-“

“Listen, Missus Google, let’s forget about all of the virtual stuff,” Hamzah said, winking at me and I rolled my eyes at him.

“Can I tell you what I want to do?” He said, stirring his tea as I watched him. “I just want to live. Do you know what that means? To shut off everyone else and just live for now? Stop worrying about the world and statistics and everything else. Just stop, Mos. There’s so much more that life has to offer you, if you just let everything else go.. you’ll see. See the beauty in everything. Stop worrying. Stop assessing. Stop being such a genius at things that don’t matter…”

He was right. He was so right. I had lived in virtual worlds and in parallel universes and none of it was ever real. Everything had been about illusions and filters and most of the time, everything in my life had been channeled toward the next Instagram post and how I was going to make the world swoon.

I closed my eyes for a moment, shutting out all thoughts and reservations and knowing that although I had things to say, it wasn’t the wisest thing to do. It just felt so right to be in the moment.

And it was. Hamzah was right.

Sometimes being in the moment was a hundred times more amazing than any virtual experience. And maybe once upon a time, when I was silly and deluded, I didn’t think so. Maybe once before. I had been enamored by the reels and taken in by a filtered world, but now that Hamzah had come into my life, I knew that there had to be a purpose for it.

It wasn’t only about Zaid. It wasn’t about this situation. Right then, it wasn’t just about circumstances.

“I should do it, right?” I said with a cock of my head. “It’s going to be something of an adventure for us all, don’t you think.”

“I’ve got bigger things planned, pookie,” he said, grinning like a nutcase. “Real adventures. Choose adventure.. choose excitement. Stop with the virtuality. Let’s just live, okay?”

Lets just live. He was right. Maybe I analysed things too much. Got too caught up in my virtual worlds.

“And how do you suppose we do that?” I said, leaning forward and looking at him with narrowed eyes, as he gave me his one dimpled smile.

“I know just the place to take you to.”

---

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم
الحمد لله رب العالمين

On the Day Of Ashura

The Prophet ﷺ was asked about fasting the day of Ashura and he said, “It will expiate the sins of the past year.”

The hardships we face are paths leading us to ALLAH, to build our reliance on ALLAH alone. The story of Moosa AS is one of perseverance. He knew the situations were from ALLAH and the outcome will come from ALLAH. He showed us a path of gratefulness, by fasting on the day that ALLAH had saved him.
How many oceans has ALLAH opened for us and not caused us to be swallowed into the darkness!
The Rabb of Moosa AS and your Rabb is the same, so let your faith overpower your fear, for your Rabb has not abandoned you nor forsaken you.

May Allah make it easy for us to keep these fasts ❤️

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

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The Little Things

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khalid

Sometimes the smallest things take the most room in your heart. Sometimes you don’t see it coming.  You never know it from the start. It could be a little word. A small gesture. A lingering smile. We never know when our hearts are suddenly swayed and then like a gust of wind from the blue, things are just not the same anymore.

At the end of the day, the way we are brought up and what we are exposed to shapes us. It makes us who we are. The heart, by default is something that easily turns. In the blink of an eye, it’s entirety can be devoured. If we feed our heart with everything besides what our Lord requires of us, it’s only natural that our hearts will incline to that.

In that, if our hearts are corrupt; if our intentions are corrupt, such deceit will follow in our actions.. For how will a fruit tree bare fragrant and delicious fruit if it’s roots, underground, have decayed?

I paused for a second as I let the thought sink in, thinking to myself how genius it was, as I thrust the shovel into the sand, digging up the debris that were left behind, trying to clear a path for me to walk through to continue my task. The smell of wet earth was particularly comforting, as it became more apparent that the roots of the huge oak tree started her. It was home to many animals, including nocturnal ones.

The tendons were still very much alive. They still had infinite potential and as I continued to dig in, with each movement, something inside me was getting revived. 

”You know what they say in Egypt about friends,” my mothers voice called out from the patio.

I had heard it plenty of times before. My granny had often used the proverb when I was younger. I just wasn’t sure if Tariq was trying to get information from me or if he was really being serious. He was a good guy, but his mouth was a tad bit on the loose side.

Even if a friend is honey, don’t lick them all up.

Tariq’s words were still ringing in my mind even though he had left an hour ago. I tried to make light of them but unfortunately it wasn’t that easy, I couldn’t help but feel that he should have more decency than to talk like that.

I looked at my mother and shrugged, trying to play it down. It didn’t matter, did it?

”You should have spoken your mind,” she said, just before she turned to leave. How did she even know what was on my mind?

“And what good would that have done?” I rattled to her in Arabic. “Speaking good and overlooking faults always wins the battle. The one who gives up arguing even when he is right, well Ums… you know the Hadith…”

Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) said, “I guarantee a house in Jannah for one who gives up arguing, even if he is in the right; and I guarantee a home in the middle of Jannah for one who abandons lying even for the sake of fun; and I guarantee a house in the highest part of Jannah for one who has good manners.”

[Abu Dawud]

I smiled as I noticed my mother’s unchanged expression. She had her hands on her hips and an unimpressed look on her face.

”But this is not your life that it has to do with,” she said pointedly. “Some things are worth the argument. You should care more than that…”

”Don’t take it so seriously,” I said, walking up to her and planting a kiss on her soft cheek. As long as I’d remembered, Ummi’s cheeks were always somewhat like cotton wool. If she didn’t hate it so much I would have pinched them, but I knew that she would probably smack me.

“I see even after all these years you haven’t broken the habit of listening to my conversations?” I said with a grin.

She shrugged and gave me a wry smile. I had missed her smile. Her charcoal eyes. It had been so many years that I had forgotten the parts that had made home… well, home.

I grinned and shook my head to myself as I thought of her intuition. She always had this sixth sense about people who brought trouble, and Tariq was never in her good books. Though we knew each other for years, I think she was always wary of his charming smile and poetic phrases.

”If things were different you wouldn’t have been so unaffected,” she said, a note of sadness in her voice.

I didn’t say anything. Somehow, the light-heartednesse of the situation had been exhausted. Things between us had become serious as the atmosphere intensified.

Things weren’t different. That was the thing. It was what it was and it was no-one’s fault. What was meant to be had happened. If something is not on your Taqdeer there is nothing that can be done to change it. Destiny was such. Now that so much had happened since then.., and so many years had gone by… I had no intention whatsoever of going back down the road.

I breathed in deeply as I got back to my task again of rebuilding the treehouse, holding the spade with both hands, heaving before I went in for another dig. This time there was a “thwack” as it hit a solid piece of something, and I pulled back, trying to figure out why there was such a shallow point right there. Possibly something I had buried as a young kid? A piece of rock from the old store room maybe? Much had changed since I got back, and the yard was one of them.

My mother had gone back inside but I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Of course, when Tariq has mentioned a ‘rich widow’, I didn’t think about who it could be. Yes, I had laughed it off… not knowing who he meant. When two and two was put together, I had to admit that the prospect made me feel uneasy. His brother wanting to propose to someone because she had money to rescue his business was definitely not an admirable thing to do.

Now that I knew who the someone was, it made me feel even more unnerved. I had no idea that her husband had passed away, until a few days back. All I knew from the talk was that whoever had to propose now would have some really big shoes to fill.

I hoisted myself up onto the first branch of the tree, steadying my body as I reached the level of the would-have-been playhouse that my father had started when I left home. Who he was building it for, I had no idea. You could barely notice it, but as I had strutted around aimlessly the past week, still trying to figure out what was next from her, I knew that a revamp would be just the thing to keep me occupied. Papa had suggested teaching at the Uloom to keep me busy, but my thoughts weren’t that focused as yet. Catching up with all the things I had missed about home seemed more appealing for now. I just needed some time to adjust…

And of course, now that the memories had been revived, I couldn’t help but feel like the silly guy that I was back then. How life had caught me unaware… though it sometimes made me laugh at myself back then… it also filled me with regret.

I was so childish. Ignorant. Unaware of reality. I still remembered the conversation I had had back then with my mother, thinking I had had it all figured out. Falling into the wrong crowd, leaving madrassa… taking life like it was one big joke and then suddenly wanting to marry the girl who I had promised I would when I was ten years old just because seemed like she could fix it all… well, that was where I had stood back then. I mean, who even knew what they wanted at ten?

And yes, even though it was laughable now, and made me chuckle aloud… what haunted me was that I had blamed my mother for a long while afterward. Stupidly.

I had blamed her because I didn’t have the foresight in me to understand about Taqdeer.

I didn’t get that it wasn’t meant to be.

“I knew that you would come back, you know that?”

It was the day I had arrived, and I couldn’t yet bear to look at Ummi, whose eyes were brimming with fresh tears again as she took in my presence. Her face was drawn from the years she had aged and the lump in my throat seemed to intensify as I saw her pain. How could I hurt her like that? How could I have left without making it all okay?

”It would have been sooner if I could…” I said, running my hand through my now full beard yet still feeling like the coward kid I had been back then. “Ums… I’m sorry for that last time… I couldn’t…”

She shook her head vehemently as she held my head in her hands, kissing my forehead and then turning away so I couldn’t see the tears flowing.

It wasn’t rocket science. I knew she was crying. I knew my mother too well by now. To have had a son like me who had at one stage turned away from everything she had tried so hard to inculcate in him was much for her to bear. She had never disclosed the truth to anyone, even when I went away… but I knew now why she sent me. Being away from them made me reflect. Realize. Made me regret.

”It’s not fair!” I had shouted at her. “You’d do anything for everyone else but for your own son! Its because it’s Khawlah, right? Looks like you’re more worried about her than me! It’s not like I want to mess around! I want to marry her!”

I was angry. Clouded by my thoughts. Controlled by emotion. Looking back I could not believe that I had raised my voice to my mother.

”Khalid, you needed to grow up first,” she said wisely, trying to make me see reason. “You can’t be getting married now. I won’t allow it. You think she will accept?! She’s not a stupid girl. You need to finish your Aalim course. Learn some responsibility. She hasn’t had an easy life. She’s lost her mother. She still has two years of school. Study something or be someone who she can rely on. If she is meant for you after it all… she will still be here… Tawakkal Allah...”

I had scowled and pushed her away as she tried to come towards me. I couldn’t believe that I had become so angry. Looking back, I couldn’t believe I had broken my mother.

My parents had given me so much. Everything a kid needed. They had put everything on hold to bring me the best of Deen. I had learnt so much from her, yet I still had it in me to break her with my rebelliousness. Of course it was not an easy thing. How much of grief and pain I had given my mother in that time, I could not even fathom…

How would I even begin to make up for it? How could I even prove to her how much I regretted all the pain I put her through...

But a mother. I didn’t understand then but I knew now. A mother is someone who knows your heart, even when you don’t even know it yourself. There’s a reason Jannah is under her feet. If it was her palms, she would have handed it over- undeserving. Within the ground, it bears her entirety. If you wish to achieve it, then only do you learn what it is to carry her weight….

”Don’t sweat the small stuff, handsome,” she had said mischievously with that twinkle in her teary eye, as I clung onto her at the door. “It’s all small stuff.”

Small stuff. I had laughed as she said it, but it all boiled down to one thing.

Taqdeer. It was what it was. I didn’t understand it then. It took me years. Years of battling with my Nafs, my heart and my overpowering inclinations. Being in Egypt had put a lot into perspective for me. It changed my views, my company and the way I saw life. Instead of the irresponsible guy I was back home, I  had morphed into a civilized and commendable character that everyone looked up to.

And then, of course, there was the accident. If you could even call it that. An incident that claimed the lives of two of my cousins. An incident that made me realise that a friend of ours who seemed to be on our side… really wasn’t. It had taken another year of battling to find base afterwards. I couldn’t go back to Egypt because of the politics that had heightened after the Arab Spring. I would have been in deep trouble. I couldn’t go back home because the guy who had set us up was waiting there to see if I would still be alive. It was time for me to take care of myself… time for me to be on the run…

And it was a tough journey. To see the other side of life. When I saw the guys advancing towards us as we set off past the border, gasoline in their hands… I already knew that we were in trouble. And yes. It was the most terrifying feeling. As the flames overcame us, somehow, I had managed to escape the brunt of it.

When I woke up, I was already taken captive… not yet knowing what crime I had committed, but knowing that I was set up. It was surreal. Facing death and living to tell the tale. Getting arrested for no reason that seemed to make sense. Being beaten in the depths of the night for crimes I didn’t commit. All we were doing was taking food and necessities over to a camp where it was scarce. We didn’t know that they would consider us as competition. That the people who intercepted us weren’t happy about it and made it political. Six months later, I had eventually found my way out, but in foreign territory. I couldn’t go back, I had to keep escaping until I found refuge in a Mosque near the Indian border.

And of course, as Taqdeer would have it… I completed my Aalim course there. I then went on to perfect my recitation in Quran, making sure to steer clear of Egypt in the process. Both territories were dangerous for me. Somehow, through trying to do what was right, I had become a violator. Jordan seemed like an amazing place to be, and that was precisely where I had ended up a few months before clashing into Yunus.

What a journey. My mind could not even wrap itself around the gratitude that I felt right then. The magnitude of what had happened. I never thought I’d get back home. I never thought I’d ever see my mother again, but Yunus came along and changed it. Allah had sent him to be a means of relief, and I could not even express how grateful I was to him. He was an amazing guy. Always had been and still was. I closed my eyes as I thought of everything I had made Duaa for, not even realizing that everything I wished for back then was now directly at my disposal.

Sometimes in our pursuit for different things, we forget the things that Allah has given us without asking. Sometimes we get so fixated on the things that we don’t get, that we forget about the little things that we never have to ever ask for.
Yes, at one stage I had wanted wealth and love and status so badly. At once stage I had been lured off track, taken in by a crowd who seemed like they were cool and focused, only to find out they were the exact opposite. It was short-lived but I wasn’t immune to it’s effects.

Papa had a knack of bringing me back on track with his words, but sometimes even the small pains we cause our parents can have repercussions. Through a little disobedience, we cause more damage. Being faced with difficulty sometimes helps us to channel our thoughts in the right direction. It helps us find our base. Eventually it brings us back home. 

And now that I was home and it was all over, never again will I take for granted the soothing smile of my mother… the warm handshake of my father. The acceptance of people back home. A roof over my head. The gifts that I was blessed with every day. Family. Friends who loved me. The fact that I had a home to go to, breaths that I didn’t have to ask for. A conversation with a stranger who knows where I come from. A smile from the tea-shop guy who remembered me as a little kid. I’ll never look at home in the same way again.

”Exchoose me!”

At first I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it. I paused as I stopped the hammering, peeping through the tiny gaps below me as I saw little curls that flew all over her face. It was a laughable sight as I watched, and of course, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe I was gone crazy and had been transported back in time to a place where the world was new and the skies were still clear blue. I was almost lost in translation as I tried to make sense of it… holding my weight with the strongest branch of the tree and then making my way down as she went on for herself.

”Who are you and what are you doing here?” She asked clearly as I made myself more visible. For a girl of that age, her speech was remarkable.

And I couldn’t believe she was asking me that. I mean, I was almost certain that I should have been the one to ask what she was doing here. At my house. In my yard. She was hilarious.

I chuckled as my feet touched the ground, put my hands on my hips to mimic her and took a long look at the face that belonged to the strangely familiar bossy voice. All I knew was that though her hair was distinctly familiar, her little face was the cutest little picture that I’d never seen before. And as I heard the voices coming from the back alley, calling her name in frantic worry, I supposed there was not much else I could do to keep myself concealed from what was obviously awaiting…

There is an end to every storm. Once all the trees have been uprooted. Once the houses have been ripped apart. Eventually the storm will pass. The wind will hush. The clouds will lift.

Way before we knew about this, it all comes back to one thing.  It doesn’t matter how far you’ve gone. It doesn’t matter what you’ve been through. And I’m not sure at exactly which point Taqdeer had changed for me. I don’t know which hour or day or time of the week, there is no measure when it comes to the mercies of Allah that can rain on you through patience and perseverance. Too many of us are trapped in that cycle of chasing, that we forget to live, feel and experience the beauty that we created. There is no way to understand the weight of what we bear, until one day we realize that right now, where we are, is where we were praying to be all along…

And through it all, if theres one thing I learnt, it’s this:

After hardship always comes ease.

It’s those little words and reminders that we sometimes forget. The little reminders that help us to be more like the people we want to be, were called to be… and hopefully always stay that way… for better or for worse.

But mostly for the better…

---

Dearest Readers,

I did plan to pen a little more of the story but as time would have it, I kind of had to make the most of whatever I had planned and condense the lessons that I had in mind for the preparation of Ramadhaan. Whilst we embark on the journey of this amazing month in the most surreal of times, let us not forget the little things that we take for granted. The time with family. The smiles of our kids. Just playing with them and enjoying their little laughter.

We will probably have a lot more time on our hands for the first few days. With no iftar parties of excessive gathering, let’s use the opportunity to get closer to Allah and seek His mercy. Let us lose ourselves in the wealth of Allah’s refuge. May we become so close to Him… so pious … that after Ramadhaan our hearts are completely changed.

May Allah alleviate the burdens of the entire Ummah and Mankind, and grant every person relief from the troubles and ailments that are engulfing us. I will reply to all comments soon and yes, InshaAllah, a few posts to be expected to conclude the story thereafter. 

Lastly, don’t forget to make Du’aa. Lots of duaa. May Allah accept!

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

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Softening the Blow

---

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

I was once told by my dear friend Nusaybah that there’s something magical about leaving your affairs in Allah’s hands. That there’s a beauty in submission.

I didn’t actually understand it at the time, but I remembered her saying that when we make Allah our caretaker, it means we submit our affairs to Him. We hand it over. We let go and we allow the One who is Ever-Living, All-Knowing and Eternal to take care of what He knows best. We take His name and we surrender to His will, no matter what is to happen. That knowledge alone will soften even the severest of blows…

And it can be scary to venture into the unknown. It’s scary to find out we’ve been wrong about something. It’s always scary when things are changing. It’s scary to imagine that at some point, for better or for worse, things will never be the same.

And yes, we don’t like it… but sometimes we just have to tune ourselves to the fact that nothing is within our control. As much as we try to plot, plan, organize and rearrange… despite it all, we have to understand that our plan is never the ultimate one.

The future, by default, is always changing. The future is the home of our deepest fears and wildest hopes. But one thing is certain, when it finally reveals itself…. The future is never the way we imagined it.

And as I tossed a handful of seeds into the ground and let the boys use their spades to compete in hastily covering it up, I couldn’t help but ponder about how I had gotten to where I was right then. In my minds eye, I was still a school girl who was babysitting her charges… but in reality, despite not ever anticipating it, I was married to the amazing uncle of these four boys that I had by some unexpected intervention, come to love so very much.

At that point, it seemed like my heart was bursting.  Allah had blessed me with so much and I couldn’t even find the words to describe how grateful I was. Of course, when we are at the top of the mountain… sometimes we just need to dwell in the glory before looking down.

”I want more seeds!” Dayyaan was squealing in exasperation from the patch he was working at. “Zia took all of mine! It’s so unfair, he always-“

”Okay okay,” I said, cutting him off and digging in my pocket for the other packets that Aunty Radiyyah had given me. Zia was tottering around happily and Dayyaan, on the other hand,  always seemed to be putting up a fuss about something or the other. Sometimes you had to just nip it in the bud.

I had finally gotten a chance to pop in to see my dear Aunty Radiyyah amidst my daily chaos, and I was so glad that I did. Of course, she had spoilt me with everything in her kitchen, plus sent me home with tons of goodies… and a variety of seeds that she had collected just for the boys. Since them days… it was her habit to collect all types of seeds to plant, which explained why her garden was such a mastery to walk in. There were varieties of fruit and plants that I had never seen before elsewhere before…

I placed one packet in Dayyaan’s hand, glad to see him content as he got back to work, enjoying the feeling of the Spring sun on us as we worked. I missed Aadam’s company and quirky humor that day, but since it was a Friday afternoon, he usually stayed home to preserve some energy for the weekend. It had become a routine for his mother to stay in the week, because, of course… she didn’t trust me with carrying out the dietary requirements. Of course, I wasn’t complaining. I looked forward to the uninterrupted weekend with my husband. Aadam always found a way to make it extra special, and I couldn’t help but smile as I thought of it.

I delved into the soil, pulling off my gardening gloves in haste and savoring the feeling of moist earth on my fingers. Never mind my nails would probably be filthy afterward. Never mind I would probably have to scrub them clean. I was prepared to make the sacrifice for my favorite hobby. I was still quite obsessed with gardening, and it was only after getting into it again after all these weeks did I realize how much I missed it. I hadn’t had much of a chance to go into the rooftop at Aadam’s place, and being with the kids too as they ran around, spraying each other with water and squealing excitedly as we dug into the depths of opportunity was a feeling of unmatched liberation that  I had completely forgot…

”Remember that time we ran in the rain?” shouted Danyaal as he looked towards me. “I almost wish that we could do it again!”

I smiled as I recalled, obviously not being able to forget that moment when I stepped up into cover and saw Aadam watching us with an amused expression on his face. It was almost a year ago and I couldn’t quite believe how the time had flown…

“Khawlah!”

I whipped my head around as Rubeena’s call sounded, wondering why she was outside. I had told her to put her legs up for a bit and relax while I saw to the boys, but Rubeena, as I had come to know her now, was not the self-absorbed and inconsiderate Rubeena that I used to know. It seemed like she had forgotten how to give herself a break and I was actually beginning to feel really sorry for her. And yes, though I was glad that she was giving the kids more attention and love, I knew that at some point everyone needed to slow down, take a few deep breaths, and enjoy some me-time.

”Khawlah,” she said, coming up to me and lowering her voice.

I watched her as she made her way to me, dressed in  a pastel pair of tights and a loose and flowey top that really suited her. Her cheeks were slightly flushed and she was tying her hair up into a bun as she widened her eyes at me. She was actually looking really good these days. I supposed not having to stress about Shabeer’s dramatics had done her wonders…

”Its Hannah,” she almost whispered, looking like she had seen a ghost. “Right here. Outside.”

Hannah?! The Hannah?

Oh my word. It was Hannah. For a moment I just stood there, blinking at her in confusion as she watched me. What on earth was she doing here?

”What does she want?” I asked, placing down the gardening tools carefully and wiping my soiled hands on my skirt. I knew it wasn’t the wisest thing to do but I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.

”She’s got her baby with her,” Ruby said, almost disbelievingly. “She asked to speak to you too…”

I gathered the boys up in one area of the garden, my mind racing as I made my way up the stairs and down the passage to the entrance hall. Danyaal was old enough to see to the others for a bit. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but I tried to relax and convince myself that Hannah wouldn’t be up to no good. Besides, if Rubeena had thought it was safe to let her in… well, I’m sure there was a good reason she had called me.

”Salaam Khawlah.”

I turned to the direction of the voice, already doing a double take as I saw this girl that I now vaguely recognized. Hannah had always had a pretty face, but I never ever anticipated the day when I’d see her in Hijaab. I was a little overcome by emotion, as I saw the change. Even though her face was looking thinner and she was looking a little weaker, I couldn’t help but notice the beautifully peaceful expression on her face as I looked back at her. It was the first time I had ever noticed her so serene and I was completely blown away. On the floor next to her was a little girl who looked like she was just under a year.

I smiled as she gurgled, already overwhelmed by how cute she was. What a lovely little girl… I couldn’t believe Hannah had a baby.

”I’m sorry to just show up like this,” Hannah said, looking a little out of place. “I know I should have called or something but I was scared that you guys would tell me not to come…”

She trailed off as I shook my head at her, not really knowing how to react. Should I hug her? Comfort her? Assure her that everything was okay…?

After everything, even though I had forgiven her deceptive stunts… I still found it hard to completely forget all the hurt she had caused… it was still a distant memory.

”It’s okay,” I said quietly. “It’s good to see you looking… happy. And her too…”

She nodded as I glanced at the baby, I could see hear looking nervous. I could tell that she wanted to say more…

“I wanted to talk to you,” she said, picking up the baby as she squealed. “To apologise to Rubeena. And you. And also…”

She paused as the baby squealed, taking out a chip from her bag and giving it to the baby in her hand. Goodness… I didn’t expect Hannah to be so… maternal.

Rubeena was still looking like she was in a slight shock. I couldn’t imagine the emotions that she must have been feeling… to know that this girl had plotted her husband and basically lured him into bed… I was a little overwhelmed by the change that was right before my eyes.

“As I was saying,” she said, obviously  uncomfortable as we both stared at her.

Well, she kind of deserved the scrutiny.

“I also wanted to thank you for signing the forms and for giving me a chance even after everything that I did. I really do feel like I need to refocus and sort out my issues even more now, that I have this responsibility. You must really have a big heart to be able to overlook all my ridiculous stunts… both of you..”

I narrowed my eyes slightly as I looked back at her and Rubeena. Papers? The papers were with Aadam, as far as I knew. Unless he…

Ah. Of course he had. That was Aadam. Quick to overlook. Always able to deliver. He never passed up an opportunity to make someone else’s life easier. I didn’t even know how he had done it but somehow he was able to get a joint custody for Hannah and the lady who was looking after her daughter previously. Where I was hesitant, I was so glad, and immensely grateful that he had done it.

I smiled, wondering how Hannah was managing to support her and herself. She wasn’t a stupid girl. I was hoping she had used some of her intellect to get a job. She was definitely looking like she was in a better place than before. In a strange way, through feeling responsible for her and also living together for those few years… I was kind of proud of her.

”I hope you’ll take good care of her,” I said, hoping she knew what a great responsibility it was to have a child.

”I will,” she said softly. “I think of you often Khawlah. About how different things were back then. About how I saw a little bit of yours and Khalid’s world and I wanted to see more. I always thought that you two… well…”

She trailed off as she looked to Rubeena, and then decided not to say it. I supposed that I knew what she was going to say. I also supposed that she probably didn’t know that Khalid was no longer around…

My heart contracted as I thought about it again. I wanted to tell her but something held me back.

Its not important, something was telling me, knowing that saying it aloud would probably get me choked up again.

It felt like a lifetime ago, but it was so impressionable because I knew that it was through him that Hannah had glimpsed a different perspective. I remembered how she would watch us from the window, and then turn away when I looked back… almost as if she was playing a little game of her own that no-one knew about. I supposed that I was also a little stubborn, by not letting her into our world. It was through the little adventures that she had been watching where Khalid would never fail to enlighten me with miracles of Allah’s creation, that Hannah too had glimpsed some of the light.

Of course, the magic of Deen can have astounding effects on even a corrupted heart. It comforted my heart to know that Aunty Nas’s effects weren’t permanent. Maybe there was still hope for Hannah…

”Anyway,” she said, after telling us a bit about  her life now and the place she was renting that was next to the other lady who had been given custody of her daughter.

”I need to have her back home by 5,” she said as she grabbed her baby bag. “I just wanted to apologize… because I know I really made such a huge mistake and I really don’t know how I could ever make up for it… but one day.. I hope that I could.”

She trailed off and Rubeena looked at her slightly sympathetically.

I had a feeling that Rubeena might have even been a little grateful that Shabeer and Hannah’s short-lived Nikah had been the reason that she had finally seen the light. Although I couldn’t quite understand how you could ever forgive someone who potentially messed up your marriage… I suppose Rubeena’s one was a bit unique. We both knew that she wasn’t happy before that. Now,  for the first time in the three years I had known her, she seemed to be glowing from within. This time, through her pain and her struggle and her searching… she had truly found what she was looking for. I was quite certain that she had found Allah and I had a feeling that Hannah was on her way there too.

And as we watched Hannah leave with her little munchkin, I couldn’t help but feel emotional. Yes, of had been a helluva couple of years. From the time we had lost Mama to now, the going seemed to be getting a little easier.

And yes, we did have our tests, but there were times when I actually forgot about Aadam and the cancer. I didn’t want to think of it as the dreaded C-word. I lived for the moment when he’d come home one day and announce to us that everything was okay and there was nothing really to worry about. I lived in the hope that our longing and praying would reach the doors of the Heavens, and Allah would send His mercy upon us in showers. I lived with the knowledge that only ease was meant for those who were striving for Allah… but how wrong I was…

Nabi (SAW) said:

“The most severely tested people are the prophets, then the next best, then the next best. A man will be tested in accordance with his level of commitment to God…”

And maybe I should have seen the signs as my husband came by later that day with a big mysterious box, saying he wanted to spend some time with the boys and needed some company.

”Looks like you guys have been having fun…” he said, his expression only slightly tired as he watched us out in the garden. “You’ll carry on while I watch from here…”

There was no chance of that though. As soon as they saw it, the garden tools were already stowed away and the boys were all hovering over all the carpentry items that Aadam had brought. It looked like an unfinished piece that he had been working on, and as I watched them, I could see how thrilled they were that they would get to knock and hammer like real carpenters.

I looked at my husband as he left them to it. He was wearing a black kurta and prayer hat, but his thick brown hair was visible from the sides. His beard was combed neatly and I smiled as he pulled me into a sudden embrace, for some reason, sensing that something was different about him yet not being able to put my finger on it. Maybe he was just tired? Possibly.

“I missed you, beautiful,” Aadam whispered as he took my hand, his eyes smiling as he sat on the edge of the chair at the back porch.

I grinned back at him. I had missed him too, but spending time with the boys like old times was amazing.

“Thank you for sorting out Hannah’s papers,” I said quietly, not wanting the boys to hear. “She came by earlier.”

”Really?” He said, sitting up and looking at me with interest. “She actually came here? What did Rubeena say?!”

”She was quite mature about the whole thing,” I said, shrugging. “Personally, I think Hannah just brought out a very active side of Shabeer that Rubeena wasn’t able to see anyway…”

Aadam said nothing, but gave a knowing smile.

”I’m so glad she’s out of that,” I said quietly, as I squeezed his hand.

”Me too,” he almost whispered. “I’m so glad it’s all coming together.”

I didn’t read into his words, as I watched the boys as they started working with Aadam’s exciting tools. The boys were embarking on a real task as he watched, thrilled at their eagerness. From time to time he would get up, check on their progress whilst he gave them some motivating words, and then sit back on the couch.

”You’ve got them really busy, haven’t you?” Rubeena said as she stepped out, shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun.

”I’ve got everyone on a schedule,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “Mums sorting out the diet and cooking, and after a small chat, there are some good things that are actually finding its way to my plate. Ma is on the property front, looking out for a good investment apartment for me. Siraj is on the health front, doing all the important things and making sure my finances are in order… You’re doing my paperwork and admin, which by the way… needs a lot of catching up with…”

Rubeena smiled as I looked at her, wondering how Aadam was still worried about administrative aspects and finances when he was supposed to be taking it easy. It just didn’t seem important to me right then.

I didn’t quite understand why he was having me over in the weekends and his mum on week nights. Why he came to Rubeena everyday for lunch. It didn’t click with me why, after years, him and his father had taken a fishing trip down the coast, and why he came to spend time with the boys on a Friday evening despite being so exhausted.

Aadam was actually very carefully planning a way to spend private time with each of us in a very subtle way.

I watched Rubeena shake her head as she walked away. It didn’t faze me as I got up to get my bag, my mind occupied because the time time for my study session that Nusaybah would have my head about if I missed was nearly there…

“Khawlah,” Aadam said, a twinkle in his eye as I waved to the boys and leant down to peck his dimpled cheek. “I haven’t designated you to a task as yet…”

I raised my eyebrows at him as he smiled convincingly. I could already tell that his mind was occupied, planning for what would soften the blow…

“What can I do for you, sire?” I asked him, crossing my arms over my chest as he looked up at me.

”A small request, love,” he said softly. To me though, it sounded something like a death sentence.

“Can I have you to myself tomorrow?” he said, meeting my eye. “Early?! I have somewhere that I want to take you…”

---

 

Sunnah Duaas! Let’s try and practice InshaAllah !

Yaa Muqallibal Quloob Thabbit Qalbee ‘alaa Deenik.

“Oh turner of the hearts (Allah, the Most High), keep our hearts firm on your religion“

Sunnah Duaa for drinking water 

اَلْحَمْدُلِلّٰهِ الَّذِىْ سَقَانَا عَذْباً فُرَاتاً بِرَحْمَتِهِ وَلَمْ يَجْعَلْهُ

مِلْحاً اُجَاجاً بِذُنُوْبِنَا

 

All praise is due to Allah, Who of his mercy has granted us sweet and pleasant water to drink and did not make it bitter and salty due to our sins.

Revive the Sunnah Duaa for drinking water. How easy to practice! 

FB: The Journeying Muslimah

 

 

#RevivetyesunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

 

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

 

When the Unmentionable is Mentioned…

Bismihi Ta’ala

Rubeena

I once heard Khawlah say to the kids that if you can have gratitude, you can be the king of even a one-story shack. It was like an epiphany to me. To be grateful was something I never gave much credit to before, but now made so much of sense. Being grateful for things increase their worth multiple fold…

And every day for me, since my divorce, was a learning experience. Some days I learnt tolerance. Some days patience. Some days I learnt faith.

And some days, I learnt how to just be. To stop. To ponder. To be grateful. To realize how many bounties Allah had given me, that I do rarely stopped to thank Him for.

And through my journey and the lessons and everything else…. Time was passing us by at record speed. It seemed like the more we chased it, the more it evaded us. The more we tried to hold onto the moments, the more illusive they became.

And no, we didn’t talk about it. We didn’t want to. We lived in a world of idealism where everything around us existed for what it was, and we were merely trying to just live for what we could see right then. It was the same thing we in our ordinary lives. Live for the moment. Don’t think about the future. Have no worries… because this world was something that wanted us to keep thinking that it would never end…

And as we continued with our regular outings and the likes, Adam’s health was constantly changing. I supposed that it wa sa constant reminder lurking there. While he appeared well most of the time, there were moments when I glimpsed the reality of his fatigue and weakness. It was something that I remembered often when I looked back, because it showed me a little more about who my brother truly was. Nothing held him back. Despite the illness and despite the odds, he pushed through to be the best human being he always could.

Of course, we looked forward to spending time with him, but through it all I could tell that Adam was building up for something really special. It was something that he was purposely psyching himself up for. Something that the boys would remember for a really long time. I didn’t understand it at that time, but in retrospect, the way he had planned it all down to the tee was quite incredible.

And yes, I thought about it often because it was late winter and we were all still wondering why Adam had insisted our weekend bags be packed with ultra warm clothes, when it was practically scorchers in Gauteng. I had a good mind of checking his medication doses but I tried to be open-minded as we headed out for our family road trip that by any standards, was bound to be eventful.

“Are we there yet?”

It was about the millionth time I had heard the question, but to tell the truth, even I was wondering the same thing. Amidst my parents chatter and the general enjoyment of being altogether, we all couldn’t stand the wait.

”Where are we going?” Danyaal asked, the curiosity killing him. He could never take suspense. Even at story time, he was the most impatient of the lot.

We were sitting in a mini bus, headed for a destination that only Aadam knew of. I could see him smiling to himself mysteriously as we looked out the window at the roads, hoping that my brother had not lost his mind completely. Anything was possible at this point. I loved my brother but he always did have a whacky side to him.

“You’ll see,” Adam said with a wink. “It’s a surprise.”

Surprises were Adam’s favorite thing and my worst nightmare. I could not take the anticipation either. Besides the odd comment, my mother, on the other hand, was surprisingly quiet as we drove along. I think it was the fact that she and I were seated two rows apart… which meant she had no-one in the vicinity that she could focus on. At least it meant that I could exist in my little bubble of peace for a few hours longer.

“Uncle Adam!” Dayyaan shouted suddenly, pointing out in awe. “It’s snow!”

I had barely even been focusing, but my eyes sprung open as he said it, allowing myself to savor the first view of the powdery spread that seemed to have come from nowhere. The temperature had very evidently dropped and I loved it. Icy cold weather was my best kind.

Adam smiled to himself as he looked out, obviously elated at the shouts of delight coming from the back seat.

Ah yes. Adam has really outdone himself this time. The boys had never seen snow before and they were literally somersaulting over the seats to try and get better views.

“SubhaanAllah.”

It was Khawlah’s voice that spoke softly from the back.

The kids loved having her here as well, and I could literally see my brother glowing every time he looked back at her. Of course, no-one else could really do justice to reminding us of the beauty that Allah could create with such splendor. The endless whiteness went on till what seemed like eternity. It’s appeal was almost striking as I gazed as the soft hillocks that we passed. Every wonder, every creation… sometimes when we get stuck in our worldly pursuits we forget that there’s such amazement that awaits us..  such creation whose Maker is worthy of the ultimate praise.

Indeed… nothing was created in vain.

And of course if didn’t end there. Once we reached the resort where we would be staying for the next two days, our hearts were completely taken by the perfection and splendor that we saw. I almost couldn’t believe how perfect today seemed… it was almost as if we were waiting for a bomb to drop on us…

And as I helped to lug the suitcases out, my eye strayed over as I watched Adam and Khawlah as they conversed, not being able to help the feeling of inadequacy that seemed to overcome me at the same time. Adam had, through his latest escapade, inadvertently let me into his world where I was awakened to the possibility of real love. It was something that I didn’t expect or could barely explain… but as I saw them now, my heart did a little contraction, as I found myself turning away.

There I was, thinking the unmentionable and feeling like scum as I  looked at my brother almost in disgruntlement, thinking about how I could be so horrible despite the life that I had chosen for myself. I was lacking nothing really, but yet the feeling of displacement continued.

Yes, I had four beautiful kids. Yes, I had perfect health. Yes. I had a beautiful house and the best of everything. Yes, I had much more than many people around me… Alhumdulillah. But somehow, I couldn’t help but stop myself from wondering why I didn’t have that amazing husband that loved me with all of his heart. The one that was supposed to raise me to new heights.

I felt like the woman who opened her wardrobe to see two dozen dresses of red, yellow, orange, pink and you-name-it colours hanging in there. Of course, she is still convinced that she has nothing decent to wear…

Ugh. That was me. Why couldn’t I be of the few slaves of Allah who were grateful?

Ingratitude. It was almost corrosive. Destructive. There were many ways I had been indifferent and ungrateful and I knew that I needed to change. It was just that every time I made a little progress, there was always a small set-back that got me right back at square one. Right then, I knew that the recent events with Shabeer had caused it and I couldn’t stop myself from feeling angry at him all over again.

”Rubeena, this is not a joke,” Shabeer had said just the other day,  looking at me with that puppy dog face that I often saw on my second son when he couldn’t get his way. Only with him, it didn’t look cute. At all.

“This time I’m serious.”

I looked back at him blankly, completely emotionless. I didn’t feel sorry for him. Not even one bit. How did I end up with such a rotten egg?

”Whether you’re serious or not,” I said bluntly. “It doesn’t change the fact that it’s over. So can we just move on and let it be? You’re making this really uncomfortable. This is ridiculous, Shabeer.”

He had followed me to Adam’s flat and it was the last straw. Since then I had to switch the bells off at home and put an external lock to stop Shabeer from buzzing at odd hours and harassing me. He was being ridiculous. Seemed like the only other thing that would keep him away was a restraining order.

”I’ve changed, Rubeena,” he said, his eyes pleading with mine. “You’ve made me realize that I need to change my life. I’ve made so much of progress…”

I looked at my ex-husband, taking in his tawny hair that was greying, and noticing the red-rimmed eyes that had become almost a norm for him. Oh yes, he had changed. Physically, he was nothing like I remembered him to be.

It was hard to believe that once upon a time, he had been a heartbreaker who thought that this life wasn’t going to end. Now that he was seeing the effects of his sins… the only thing I truly wanted for him, for the sake of my sons, was to truly change…

”Have you started praying?” I asked, the words coming almost out of nowhere. “Do you attend the masjid? Have you listened to any lectures? Do you do Adhkaar? Do you have any connection with your Lord, Shabeer?!”

I wasn’t even sure where the thoughts had come from but my voice was rising as I said it.

Shabeer looked back at me with an uncertainty in his eyes as I questioned him, and I already knew the answers to them all. No, no and no. Maybe in his mind he had changed. Right now… I was in such a better space. I had everything I needed and I didn’t need this uncertainty. Well, almost.

”Is everything okay?”

My thoughts jolted back to the present as my brother came up behind me, catching me completely by surprise as he placed his hand on my padded shoulder. Despite being dressed to ski perfection, I still felt a little shivery as he stood next to me, looking over my shoulder as both of us gazed out in adoration at the spectacular view that was spread before us. It was simply mind-blowing.

We stood at the top of a huge dip that lay below, displaying a beautiful whiteness with random spots of greenery that were peaking out from underneath.  It was almost like the were trying to tell us something. To show us another beauty that we had missed before the whiteness descended. I turned to my brother with a small smile, stretching out my arm as I gave him a half bear-hug.

He smelt like he always did. Maybe a little extra oud than before, but he always had that powdery scent on him from the time he was a kid. He even felt sturdy, as he slung his arm around my shoulder. Like the old Adam.

It was just that now, I could see the difference in his energy levels, as he smiled and took a seat on a nearby rock. It was the only tell-tale sign. Though he never complained, where before he could go for hours he when it came to entertaining the boys, now it was barely 30 minutes before he would get tired.

”I’m fine,” I assured him. “Are you okay?”

Sometimes I was afraid of his answer, but Adam grinned at me as he sat.

”Couldn’t have been better,” he said softly. I could hear his raspy breaths in between. It was the cold that made him sound even worse than he was. ”This is amazing. Being with all you guys… together.”

”The boys are having so much of fun,” I said, watching them playing and running my gloves hands together as we watched them run back to the fireplace for their hourly dose of heat, probably feeling a little nippy as the evening was closing in. The view was simply breathtaking, from where we stood.

”I still can’t understand,” Adam said quietly, his dark eyes focused ahead. “How people can see nature and sunsets and oceans and blooming flowers and snowflakes… man…snowflakes! Ruby, I can’t even fathom… how people can see all of this and still believe that it happens by chance and there’s no God and everything is just one big coincidence…”

I glanced at my brother as we took in our surroundings, rendered slightly speechless by its absolute wonder. His hair was covered with a beanie and his cheeks were slightly flushed due to  the cold.

“How could I have been so blind before?”

I smiled almost to myself.

SubhaanAllah. There were no other words. That was the amazing part about Allah’s glory. Whenever you felt like you could say nothing that would give due credit, ‘SubhaanAllah’ was always there…

”That makes two of us,” I said, knowing that I was none the better. We had been awakened to a world of wonder and possibility because we now understood the greatness of the Lord who created it.

Adam’s eyes were fixed ahead. It was like there was something in his mind, yet he couldn’t find the words to say…

“Rubes, thank you for everything,” he said finally. “You’re the best sister in the world.”

I swallowed as I glanced at him, knowing that he wanted this time with me alone, but also fearful of what he meant by it.

“I know,” I said with a smirk.

It seemed like just a few months ago my brother was that little active boy who merely existed in my life as my little playmate. We were close but not like we are now. Now, my brother was the only person I had to really talk to. He was my go-to guy. The person I’d turn to for advice or inspiration… or even just a little chat if I needed it… I really didn’t want to think of saying bye to him…

“Seriously, Rubes. Thank you for supporting me,” he continued softly. “For seeing Khawlah for who she was. For loving me despite messing up things in my past. For pushing me to take this step… I wish that I could pay you back.”

I scoffed as he said it, not trusting myself to speak as yet. I was getting a little choked up and I didn’t understand why. He was absolutely obsessed, and it was so unlike him…

”I’m assuming everything went well?” I said subtlety, obviously not wanting to pry.

Adam looked at me.

”I can’t stop thinking about her, Ruby,” he said with a shrug. “Even when she’s here. Do you think I’ve lost the plot?”

I smiled. That was super cute.

“I think you’ll be alright,” I said with a wink. “Do you think I’ll ever find the plot?”

I grinned as I said it but Adam was looking back at me seriously.

”Remember that day you came to find me?”

I glanced at him, my face turning serious as I recalled, wondering if he was really taking about the same incident. It was a memory that I tried to block out. I had always thought that he had forgotten about it too. It was one of those unmentionables that we never mentioned…

”I didn’t know you remembered,” I said quietly, meeting his eye.

”I remember everything,” he said, his fingers intertwining with each other slightly nervously as he spoke. “And how you told me that one day I’ll find something that will make me forget all the pain that I was going through back then…”

I closed my eyes as I momentarily recalled it. Adam standing at the edge of his apartment wall while he looked down, as I tried to reason with him, like a crazy woman taking to a crazy and suicidal man.

”I was so scared that you were going to jump off…”

My heart still thudded in my chest as I remembered thinking how I would explain to my parents how it all happened, if he ever did jump.

”You told me that there would be better days,” he continued. “That no-one or nothing was worth hurting myself for. That one day, everything will fall into place…”

”I didn’t even think that you were in your senses,” I almost whispered, the memory so alarmingly real that I was stunned.

We had never spoken about it before but I could tell that it was really important to him right then.

”You also told me that I probably wouldn’t even die if I jumped,” he said with a slight smirk. “That if probably just get hurt really badly and then I’d make everyone’s life miserable because I’d probably be paralyzed for life and you would have to probably look after me and then you’d have no life beyond that which would completely suck…”

I grinned as I recalled it. He was right.

”I knew how to get you,” I said with a shrug. “And aren’t you glad you didn’t jump?”

“Duh,” he said obviously. “But that’s the thing Ruby. That’s what I wanted to tell you. That there’s always hope. That there will be better days. That you will find the plot. But seriously, yeah..“

I looked up at him as he turned to face me.

”What?”

”People who are looking for the plot don’t say no to perfect proposals…”

Yikes. That hurt.

I widened my eyes at him, a little shocked that he had mentioned it. It was one of the other  unmentionables that silently existed between us. It was a forbidden topic.

“I heard you out there, Ruby,” he almost whispered. “You can make up as many issues as you want… but I heard what you told Shabeer that day at my place. Don’t you think it’s a little hypocritical if you’ve got an opportunity exactly like you want and you don’t take it?”

My heart had been feeling a little bruised around the edges since I had said no. It had definitely taken a knocking these past few months, and every new addition to its torture wasn’t doing me any good at all. It was just that I couldn’t even think about all the chaos it would cause…

”I still think that he’s the one,” Adam said softly, glancing at me. “And I think you know-“

”Adam,” I said in a warning tone. “You know I can’t think of it right now. Im not in a good space. You’re not well. My kids are so young. He’s so young… gosh… he didn’t even tell me he was only twenty-one. It’s like having another child. Goodness, Adam, people will think I’m crazy. There are too many factors standing between us. I can’t just shove it all aside and do what I want…”

Adam frowned at me, as his look turned to interest. It just so happened that we could say nothing more  at that moment as Danyaal hopped up to us, shivering slightly as he stood between us.

”Mum, can we roast some marshmallows at the fire?”

Adam looked at him with a smile as I nodded.

”Danyaal,” Adam said softly, pulling himself towards us. “You remember the story Khawlah read about the first marriage of the Prophet (SAW)?”

Danyaal nodded solemnly.

”Do you remember how old Khadijah (RA) was?”

”Yup,” Danyaal said. “She was forty.”

”And how old was the Prophet (SAW)?”

”He was 25.”

I looked at Adam. He was smiling as Danyaal rattled off the details. It was her, may Allah be pleased with her, who had sent a proposal for this man who shone out from the rest. She was a beautiful and sought-after widow with an astounding reputation of nobility. My son knew more about the Seerah than I did.

She was married twice before. She had kids too. I sucked in my breath as my son spoke about how perfect their marriage was. How she accepted his message with no hesitation. How they developed love and compassion and understanding. How she supported him relentlessly in the mission to spread the Deen. How he married no-one else whilst he had her. How Allah sent His esteemed Salaam to her. How she got glad tidings of a beautiful palace of jewels in Paradise… for all of her sacrifice.

How my beloved Nabi (SAW) loved her with such ferocity that no other wife could compare. How he sobbed when she had passed on, and he glimpsed her necklace years later. How the pain was so severe at her passing that my Nabi (SAW) had mentioned that if he could… he would have wrapped her in his blessed skin.

That was Khadijah, may Allah be immensely pleased with her. Beloved of the beloved wives of the Messenger SAW.

”If I ever have a daughter,” Adam said quietly. “That’s who she’ll be named after. My all-time favorite Sahabiya.”

“But what if you only have boys, Uncle Adam?” Danyaal asked obviously, grinning at me proudly. “Like Mum.”

I can see that Adam was making a silent Du’aa as the thought crossed his mind. My boys were enough for the whole family to handle…

”Then maybe your mum can have a girl,” Adam said with a grin. “So we can have a Khadijah in the family to spoil…”

I smiled as Danyaal scampered off and left Adam and me alone again. Of course he wasn’t serious… I had no intention of having more kids. I knew that I probably wouldn’t manage. Besides, I felt like I had changed so much in these few months… so much about what I had wanted and aspired for before this had completely changed for me.

The day was closing in now and I could feel the icy breeze through the top opening of my jacket. I knew that we were due to make our way inside, but something was holding me back…

The sun was dipping shyly away into the horizon, boasting shades of orange, magenta and peach as we watched it slide away…. We were mesmerized.

“You don’t have to wait for it, Ruby,” he said in a low tone, gazing out into the beauty. He cleared his throat as I wondered what he was talking about.

“But I promise you that it will happen,” he continued softly. “Happiness, I mean. It does exist. And maybe you may not feel like it right now but one day you’ll wake up and you’ll know where you’re going. Where you’re headed. You’ll see Allah’s great plan unfold for you… just like it did for me. You’ll still have good days and bad days but you’ll also have the most important wealth of all. You’ll live in the knowledge of contentment… and that, Rubes, I can tell you, is the best feeling in the world. Who’s to say that tomorrow won’t be the best day of your life? Maybe tomorrow you’ll be blown away. Maybe you’ll find everything you’ve been missing. Never lose hope. Maybe there’s already something amazing at your doorstep just waiting to happen…”

Adam looked back at me for a moment, and then turned around slowly, making his way back to the villa without a word.

I hated to admit it, but maybe Adam did have a point. Maybe I was throwing the towel in on a plan that could be my dream. Maybe there was something worth thinking about… and maybe, just maybe….

Maybe the unmentionables were actually worth mentioning…

---

Dearest Readers,

I’m so sorry about the delays. An extra long post to make up for it. InshaAllah will try and post again this week 💓

Much Love,

A xx

Sunnah Duaas! Let’s try and practice InshaAllah !

Yaa Muqallibal Quloob Thabbit Qalbee ‘alaa Deenik.

“Oh turner of the hearts (Allah, the Most High), keep our hearts firm on your religion“

Sunnah Duaa for drinking water 

اَلْحَمْدُلِلّٰهِ الَّذِىْ سَقَانَا عَذْباً فُرَاتاً بِرَحْمَتِهِ وَلَمْ يَجْعَلْهُ

مِلْحاً اُجَاجاً بِذُنُوْبِنَا

 

All praise is due to Allah, Who of his mercy has granted us sweet and pleasant water to drink and did not make it bitter and salty due to our sins.

Revive the Sunnah Duaa for drinking water. How easy to practice! 

FB: The Journeying Muslimah

 

 

#RevivetyesunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

 

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

Matters of the Heart

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

Once upon a time… in a permanent world where every soul was created, there were souls that would meet with other souls, before they became part of this temporary world.

It was a world where each soul was shown Allah’s beauty and understood it. It was a place where they whole heartedly submitted to one Rabb… the Lord of the Worlds. It was a place where they had first understood what it means to submit… where they connected to the one thing that would become the foundation of their love… where they would one day hold this love within a heart that will one day pump and thrive on its very meaning…

Because there’s something magical about the heart that you only come to understand when you truly feel it. Something like no other vessel. It’s uniqueness is unparalleled. Western studies speak about a heart which pumps blood to every organ of the body. A fist sized muscle that performs a vital function, distinguishing between life and death.

But there is a heart that Nabi (SAW) spoke about, which is within this very cavity of the beating one. Our beloved Nabi (SAW) spoke about a heart that is the king of the body. A heart that feels and turns and decides. A heart that can be hurt and scarred. One that can be healed and fixed.

A heart that says yes. A heart that says no. A heart that’s swayed by emotion. A heart that makes decisions.

A heart that most importantly, recognizes Allah, it’s Creator. If that heart turns… then there’s nothing that can ever stand in it’s way. If this heart is not swayed by the Almighty, then nothing in this world can move that soul. When your heart wants something… it triumphs everything that may come between it. Sometimes we just don’t know with matters of the heart, because way back when, it was only the heart that truly recognized the Greatest Power of all, who was it’s Creator and Sustainer and everything in between.

Anas RA reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, would often say, “O turner of the hearts, affirm my heart upon your religion!” I said, “O Messenger of Allah, we believe in you and in that with which you were sent. Do you fear for us?” The Prophet SAW said, “Yes, for the hearts are between the fingers of Allah. He turns them whichever way he wills.”

Source: Sunan al-Tirmidhī 2140 Grade: Sahih (authentic) according to Al-Albani

And even when I looked back, from what remember, the day’s that followed the big move to Aadams place were still like a dream. And no, it wasn’t only about the superficial aspects. It wasn’t just about the honeymoon part of the marriage that most couples find the highlight. It was being with someone whose heart had seen worse days. It was about being awakened to a new life and a new possibility that Allah had opened for him. It was just seeing this beauty that made me see everything else from a completely different perspective. It was a beauty that had changed a huge part of my heart.

And yes, I had understood that this move was one that was unlike the usual type of moves. This was a special one. It involved a different kind of patience. An understanding. Within the intensity and the moments of overwhelming adoration and love, a deep compassion and consideration was built from both sides… because through understanding that Aadam was not the boisterous and overly- energetic guy that I always knew, he also understood that I was dealing with a lesser version of Aadam that I was used to.

The amazing part was that it didn’t make me love him any less. If anything, the love that I had always harbored deep within now seemed to be overflowing.

And yes, I did wish that I was one of the giggly newly married girls who could complain about the annoying husband that they secretly love to bits, but the fact with Aadam was that everything about him was exceptional. And yes, though his socks on the corner of the room would sometimes annoy me, or his chatter when he couldn’t fall asleep in bed would disturb me too, there was nothing that I could truly complain about, because I knew that there was a possibility that it may be those very things that I might come to sorely miss. Long story short, to me, right then, my husband was pretty much amazing.

Being who he was of course, with his quirky humor, was what made it all the more memorable. Aadam was just the kind of person that brightened up the darkest days…. Even in the middle of the night.

”Ahem Ahem,” he said, feigning a clearing of his throat as we lay in bed after praying an early Tahajjud together, listening to the sounds of the city pass us by. “I think it’s time to give a final vote of thanks… to my incredible wife who saved me from the clutches of my mother who wants to torture me with her unmentionable concoctions…”

”Shame man,” I said, grinning to myself in the dark. “It’s only because she cares-“

”Next time, sweets,” he said seriously. “You need to down it and then talk. I love that she cares but she’s gets a little overbearing, yeah..?”

I looked up into the dark as he said it, wondering how he took everything in his stride. How he dealt with his sickness with such conviction and faith that he never looked at it as a misfortune…

“You’re doing so well, though,” I said, getting a little emotional about how perfect he had been these two days, and hoping it wasn’t just a passing phase. “Maybe it really is helping. You know there’s a cure for every disease. We just need to have faith in Allah’s mercy and keep fighting…”

“Of course,” he said quietly. “Allah is being so kind to me so far, love. It’s like everything is just coming together and I don’t even deserve it. Thank you for coming…”

”Aadam, I wanted to be here,” I said softly. “You don’t have to say thank you.”

“I do,” he insisted. “And let me tell you why. It was because I was scared. I didn’t want to take this step because I was so scared that I’d be punished for my past. It was you who changed that… and made me real differently. You showed me that it didn’t matter who I was. You showed me that I could move past that person that I had once hated. You showed me the Merciful Lord that I never knew… One that not only forgives, but also demands that the angels forget…”

”Aadam, stop,” I said, cutting him off.

”What?!” He said innocently.

”Don’t talk like you’re not waking up tomorrow…” I said sternly.

”And in case I don’t wake up tomorrow,” he announced stubbornly, just to spite me. “I have something that I have to say..”

I playfully whacked his arm, shaking my head at him. The reality was too painful to even imagine.

”Seriously, Khawlah,” he said, his voice dropping as I listened to his slightly labored breathing. ”I love you so much.”

I reached for his hand silently as he said it, feeling his pulse in the dark. At that moment it seemed more alive than ever.

”Hey Aadam,” I said softly, swallowing hard.

”Yeah?”

”I forgot to tell you..” I started, glad it was dark and he couldn’t see my face.

”What sweets?” He pressed, turning to face me. I could almost see the trace of the fine lines on his forehead as he frowned.

It was on the tip of my tongue yet the words were like putty. Sometimes the most important things are the hardest things to say.

He reached for my face on the dark, cupping in other one warm hand.

His hands were always so warm. Too warm. Sometimes it scared me. I kept thinking that maybe he had a fever or some infection… or something untraceable that the doctors hadn’t picked up.

I shoved the thought out of my mind.

Just say it, something urged me.

”I love you.”

I said it. And just as I did so, it was like the floodgates of happiness overcame my entire being. I honestly could not even think of anything else that would have meant more at that moment.

And I was glad the room was dark but I could almost hear Aadam smiling back within it.

”I know,” he said simply. “I always knew that you were going to say it…”

And as I drifted off into a semi-slumber in my husband’s arms, I just knew that it was the right moment that I had revealed a part of my heart…

And to my surprise, it was the way he had been waking me up in the early parts of the morning that had just made it for me. It was at that very moment, as I lay there, that I realized that nothing in the world could triumph the feeling of someone wanting the best for your hereafter. Of someone else he wants to not just spend this life with you, but also help you plan for the next.

It was absolutely incredible.

“Wake up, beautiful,” Aadam had whispered. “Don’t you want the gold?”

The gold? Where was it that I had heard about the gold before…

”Imagine being the one who is praying to your Lord when the rest of the world is sleeping?” He whispered. “Imagine being able to connect to Him, the Lord of the worlds.. one-on-one. Imagine you calling out to Him… Who controls the entire universe, and Him being shy to turn you away. To pray, to worship… to build that bond through begging and pleading… to ask Him to heal what’s been hurt and fix whatever has ever been broken… Can you imagine that feeling, Khawlah? Can you imagine how your heart will feel after that?!”

The heart… yes! That’s was it. The polishing of that heart… well… That’s where the gold was. When the heart decides it wants Allah… then it will go through the entire world to find. When the heart decides… nothing can hold it back.

And being with Aadam and seeing his approach to life in everything he did was what made me love being here. Usually when involved in worldly pursuits, we get caught up in it’s pleasures. It was expected. With Aadam though, it was precisely the opposite. From his daily Adhkaar to his Quran Tilawat that he never missed at every Salaah time. From his constant reminders of the Power of Allah and to the wonders that’s I saw within him… I felt like my soul was getting a kind of revolutionary upliftment that it never experienced before… and it caught my heart completely by surprise.

And as I woke up to the smell of the coffee machines magic the next morning, I silently entered the kitchen, already reveling in the  audible Quranic recital that was coming from my husbands lips as I walked in. He was reciting his Surah Yaseen softly to himself, so seemingly engrossed in it that I didn’t think he even noticed my arrival.

“So about this morning,” Aadam smiled as he ended his recital to come up to me and peck my cheek. He turned back to buttering the slices of toast for us.

”What about this morning?” I asked innocently, feigning ignorance.

“You’re such a pretender,” he grinned, winking at me and then returning to the the toast. “Peanut butter or honey?”

”I see your mothers having an effect on you,” I said with a smile. “I need real sugar please. Where did she hide that golden syrup? I feel bad that you’re always making me stuff and I just sit here and take advantage. Can I please just take over the kitchen for now?”

“In time,” he said sweetly. “Let me do it for now… I’m scared you might burn the toast…

He looked up at me as he passed me my toast and coffee, and I found myself feeling a little more self conscious than usual. It was just that Aadam was looking at me strangely and it was making me feel weird. 

“Don’t do that,” I said, frowning at him.

”Do what?” He asked innocently. “I’m only looking at my beautiful wife who just bared her soul to me in the wee parts of the morning…”

I could feel my cheeks reddening. Saying those three words were harder than I had thought. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to say them again anytime soon.

“Thank you, Khawlah,” he said softly, his dark eyes meeting mine. “Loving you has been amazing. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me…”

I swallowed as he continued looking at me, not really sure how to answer.

It had been an amazing two days. Almost like a dream. Aadam had switched his phones off and stowed his laptops away, and to be in his amazing company and have his undivided attention for all that time was incredible.

“I think we might need a distraction today,” Aadam said, sounding like he was on to something. “Ive had a pretty eventful morning otherwise…”

“What do you mean?” I asked as I took a bite of the toast, a little confused.

Aadam was right. He had very high toast standards. His toast was perfectly browned. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to compare.

He gave a small smile as I studied the edges.

”Well, I switched my phones back on this morning,” he started. “And I kind of got bombarded… so let’s just switch it off again and act like I never even noticed…”

My heart thudded in my chest as I thought of all the possibilities. For those few days I had forgotten about Hannah’s baby, who she had contact me about last week. I even forgot about Rubeena and Zuleikha, and my brothers…

”Is everyone okay?” I asked, thinking about the kids now. What if something happened to one of them?

”You know I love your family, beautiful,” he said. “But they really do top the charts when it comes to family drama…”

I sighed.

”Ahmed and Zuleikha at it again?” I asked, rolling my eyes. “My brothers been really complicating life…”

”To tell the truth,” Aadam said, looking at me. “From what he says, I don’t think it’s really his fault…”

”What do you mean?” I asked. “Did you speak to him? Knock some sense in?! He’s been chasing women for the past few months and it’s still got his act to together. Why start something he won’t finish?”

Aadam looked at me, his one eyebrow doing funny things as I watched him back thoughtfully.

“Do you think that maybe he’s afraid of commitment?” I asked, looking at my husband with interest.

It seemed like he knew more than my brother than I did.

”Precisely the opposite,” Aadam said, shaking his head. “He’s not afraid of committing. He’s just afraid of comitting to the wrong person. Let’s forget about it for now, yeah? I’ll chat to him properly later…”

”Ugh,” I scoffed, knowing that it was the typical excuse that commitment-phobic people used. “Why are you even being nice about it? He’s my brother and I can’t stand the way he’s acting right now. It’s like his got ants in his pants or something.”

Aadam shrugged, not meeting my eye. He was fiddling on his shelf, looking for some evasive item. His shelves were absolutely impeccable by any standards. I could not believe that I was actually married to this perfectionist of a guy who I was the exact opposite of, yet connected with on so many levels…

“Just,” he said vaguely, busying himself with something he had written next to the counter. His eyes lit up as he looked at me.

“I’ve got a great idea… why don’t we head off on that long-awaited date that we were supposed to, before you head back home?”

”Aadam,” I said, putting down my mug of coffee and narrowing my eyes at him. “Stop avoiding the subject. I love that you love my family. I really do. But please tell me why you don’t just tell Ahmed where to get off and let it be done and dusted? Like really. He needs a good reprimanding.”

”Khawlah,” Aadam said as he looked up from the paper he held in his hand. “Don’t be so tough on the guy. He’s had a rough time. I’ll chat to him when the time is right. Can we drop it and think about something else?”

I almost wanted to laugh. He’s had a rough time? Really?! And our lives were all perfect. Not to mention, what about the rough time he was giving us by turning everything upside down?

I shook my head, getting ready to argue. Aadam’s good nature and unassuming approach always made him overlook people’s faults. This time he had to know.

”Don’t feel sorry for him!” I said stubbornly. “It’s just like conquest after conquest and it really isn’t acceptable or even Islamic because just when we think that something may be happening, he goes and causes it and everything falls apart!

Aadam looked at me with sympathy in his eyes. He was obviously not swayed by my complaints.

”Let’s leave the guy alone, yeah?” He said softly. “How’s about we head off to more greener parts-“

”I won’t until you tell him what I said!” I said, folding my arms across my chest and sitting on the stool next to the kitchen nook.

”And what may that be, gorgeous?” Aadam smiled, looking at my sulky face. “Who am I to judge him? Imagine if I had to tell him to sort his life out and stop making bad decisions? Do you have any idea how many bad decisions I had made in my life?! It’s like the pot calling the kettle black…”

I looked at my husband, noticing a flicker of pain there that I often saw when he spoke of his past. There were times when it still cut me up too, but I didn’t dwell on it…

How much it still pained him after all these years was quite unbelievable…

“Besides,” he added. “I’m not trained in martial arts like you. Ahmed kind of scares me, and I can assure you that it won’t go down very well, yeah..”

I smiled as he looked at me and winked.

“I just want it all to be fixed,” I sighed, feeling deflated.

Aadam looked pensive as he rolled his shoulders slightly painfully. I knew that the pain came and went but it always worried me.

“The guys hurting,” he said simply. Sometimes it’s not so easy to fix broken hearts..”

I narrowed my eyes at my husband suspiciously.

A broken heart?! What was Aadam talking about?

He looked away as I stared at him questioningly, suddenly averting his gaze to the pamphlet he had found earlier.

”Aadam,” I said with a frown. “Are you hiding something from me?”

”I would never,” he said, a slight twinkle in his eye. “I’m just looking at this gorgeous brochure…”

”Liar,” I insisted, frowning. “Please don’t tell me that there’s been another issue with my uncle?! I want to know. What is he hurting about? Is it his ex fiancé? Was she the one who actually pulled the plug on it and it’s cutting him up? Or was it someone else in his past?! Gosh, I cannot even keep up..”

Aadam folded his arms across his chest and looked at me cynically.

“C’mon Aadam,” I moaned. “Just tell me!”

Somehow, the need to know was overwhelming. What I didn’t know was that I probably went going to like what Aadam had to say…

”Promise you won’t get angry?” He said, looking a little nervous as he sat on the stool near the kitchen door.

I hated it when people said that.

How must I know my reaction if I didn’t know what was going to be said? I nodded anyway, because I wasn’t going to let this go either way.

“So once upon a time, in a land of perfectly ordinary family politics, before this whole escapade blew completely out of proportion, there had been a minor secret matter of the heart that set Ahmed off…”

I stared at my husband, not amused by his storytelling techniques.

”Get to the point, please,” I said snappily.

”Long story short,” he said with his usual one-dimpled grin. “Your brother proposed for my sister…”

I looked at Aadam with wide eyes, wondering if he was for real.

No, he didn’t. Why? No.

No!

”NO!” I exclaimed aloud, flinging my hand to my mouth.

Ahmed actually proposed for Rubeena?! My goodness. After everything… he actually went through with it? Ugh.

Ooh, this made my blood boil.

I mean really… what next? Ahmed was really losing it. Or was this before he started all his shenanigans that kind of went out of control? I had a lot of questions that needed answering. And fast.

Aadam was slowly nodding at me as I looked at him in crazy wonder.

”But how?” I breathed, slightly seething. “When was this?! What did she say..?!”

I was still processing the information, as I gaped at him.

”It doesn’t matter,” Aadam shrugged as he looked away. “But maybe you can understand it all better from this point…”

“What do you mean?” I asked, really not expecting his next words.

“Khawlah,” Aadam said obviously. “I was the one who asked for him. Rubeena said no…”

---

Dearest Readers,

Getting into the new year has been good but challenging, Alhumdulillah!

May Allah guide us all through this new start and help us to remember him in everything that we aspire to achieve. Next post will be next week, and then InshaAllah posts should resume as normal until the blog comes to a conclusion. 💕

Much love to all the readers. Always need duaas !

 

A xx

Sunnah Duaas! Let’s try and practice InshaAllah !

Yaa Muqallibal Quloob Thabbit Qalbee ‘alaa Deenik.

“Oh turner of the hearts (Allah, the Most High), keep our hearts firm on your religion“

Sunnah Duaa for drinking water 

اَلْحَمْدُلِلّٰهِ الَّذِىْ سَقَانَا عَذْباً فُرَاتاً بِرَحْمَتِهِ وَلَمْ يَجْعَلْهُ

مِلْحاً اُجَاجاً بِذُنُوْبِنَا

 

All praise is due to Allah, Who of his mercy has granted us sweet and pleasant water to drink and did not make it bitter and salty due to our sins.

Revive the Sunnah Duaa for drinking water. How easy to practice! 

FB: The Journeying Muslimah

 

 

#RevivetyesunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

Deception

Bismihi Ta’ala

N.B. Drugs, vices, alcohol and everything else that goes along with it are great trials for the Ummah and we pray with sincerity that we are saved from it.  A bit of a twist from the usual posts but also an important part of the story. Humble Apologies in advance for any shortfalls.

Muslim (2597) narrated from Abu Hurayrah (may Allaah be pleased with him) that the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said: “It is not appropriate for a sincere believer to be given to cursing.” 

Hannah

Once damaged, always damaged, right?

Everyone allows themselves to be victims at some point of their lives. Sometimes it’s just easier that way.

The thing is, for me, most days were spent thinking why on earth the entire world was working against me. How was it fair that some people were dealt the best of deals, houses, bank accounts and still get the best husbands at the end of it all. How was it fair that I always got the raw end of the deal, when I worked so hard to get myself to the top.

I had learnt a long time ago than being nice never works. It may make people like you, but it doesn’t get you to the top. There’ll always be that one deterrent that stops you from getting there. To get what you any in life, you had to play hard. Ruthless. You had to fight the referees. Change the rules. Cheat a lot. Take a break and tend to your bleeding wounds… but keep playing. Play hard, play fast, play loose and rough. And at the end of the day, no matter what you do, you make sure you win. 

And sometimes, to get that, you have to pull out the victim card. Whether you’re a victim of assault. Of a degrading lifestyle. Of abuse. Of unfiltered addiction. I was a victim, and I wasn’t afraid to let everyone know it.

“You using again, aren’t you?”

I looked up and sniffed. Was it that obvious?

“Why don’t you do something with your life?” Shabeer asked angrily. “Get out of this damn flat and make something of yourself. Go back to school. Bloody hell, you have a child to support. You can’t just sit here and rot in cocaine.”

”Its your fault,” I said, hating him right then. It was.

He had left me to my own devices for almost three weeks. Ignored my calls. Let his wife degrade me however she wanted. It’s not like I could even get out there and work. Who would look after the baby?

“Bullshit,” he shot back. “Nothing is my fault. That’s not even my child. You always had a problem. Don’t blame your issues on me. Blame your addictions on your crazy mother.”

”Shut up!” I shouted, seeing red.  “My mother is the only one who truly cares. All men care about is what they can get out of you, and then they leave you in the dump to die and screw off.”

“Whatever,” he said nonchalantly. “Where’s my watch?”

He was ignoring me and looking through the shelf it was on… well… maybe three weeks ago. He was used to my rants by then. They just flew over his head.

“I don’t know,” I lied, switching the TV on, trying to divert my own mind.

“Don’t talk shit, Hannah,” he said, getting angry. “I left it here. This is still my apartment and I can kick you out any time I want. I need it.”

”For what?” I spat. “To buy your spoilt wife a new handbag?”

“Shut up!” He shouted, spinning around angrily. “Don’t talk about my wife. Give me the bloody watch!”

I blinked. Now it was don’t talk about his wife?

Just the other day she was a nag. His family was a burden. Nothing else mattered. As long as he gave me what I needed… and I did what he asked, it was everything I had dreamt about. A real husband. Money. Fancy cars. Credit cards. Everything that went with it.

A quick fix Nikah and now… I’d just been dropped like a bloody hot potato.

What a pig. He used me.

And despite being so pissed off with him, I supposed if the watch was here, I would have given it to him by now.

Only, it wasn’t. Rolex’s pick up a lot with the dealers.

Shabeer was still rummaging around in the drawers, looking for his stupid watch. I supposed I might have found it funny. Only, I knew how Shabeer got when he was angry.

“Do you want a line?” I asked him, hoping it would calm him down.

Maybe he’d relax and stick around for a while, instead of running of the the ridiculously annoying Rubeena. Maybe we’d have some fun. Well, it had worked before. When Shabeer was in the mood he was super easy-going. Not to mention, such a breeze to persuade.

“I’m not falling for your freakin’ games tonight,  Hannah,” he shot, glaring at me. “You stole my watch, didn’t you?”

I shrugged.

Who cares? It was just a watch. He had enough money, he could buy another one.

All I saw was Shabeer heading towards me. At first I thought that maybe he had come to his senses…. maybe he had realized what he had been missing… after spending that time with his annoying wife.

Before I could even think properly, all I felt was Shabeer grab me so hard by the neck that I could barely breathe. I felt dizzy as my head hit the corner of the wooden table. He came so close to my face, I could smell his cigarette breath right on me.

I wanted to swear him. I wanted to hurt him. But I could barely even talk.

“I let you get away with it when you were pregnant,” he snarled, looking at me with his bloodshot eyes. “So you either shut up or I’ll make you.”

I wished I could hit him. Thank goodness the baby started crying.

He let me go, swore me, and the grabbed his car keys as he made his way out.

I sat there after, helpless baby in my arms, in a kind of trance. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me. What I was going to do. Some days I felt like just ignoring her. She was such a bawler. I couldn’t deal with the pressure of motherhood at such a young age.

My mother would come and help me, but she also had her own life. Her own ambitions. People she had to meet. Men she was plotting, odd jobs she was doing. My father would send money sometimes. I wasn’t even sure if I was fit to raise a child. I wasn’t even sure if I could be a mother.

Days passed. Weeks too. I was caught in my own world of delirium. I couldn’t think properly unless I had a fix. If I didn’t have drugs, I’d raid the medicine cupboard.

Shabeer had left me alone sometimes for days on end. He said I needed to sort out my shit. Sometimes he would pop by and I’d beg him for some cash for the baby’s milk. He always had enough. Of course, that too got used up on more coke. A distant family relative of my father eventually came to take the baby. I had told my mother to get someone to take care of her. I remembered the lady from when I was little. She never had her own kids, and as I let my baby girl go, I was strangely relieved. I felt free. Liberated. Able… and then, I couldn’t help but feel the immense guilt.

I drowned it with more drink and drugs. My mother didn’t come much to check on me any more. She did try to warn me. She told me that drugs had messed up her life, but now she had found a new prospect. Some rich old man who she was looking after… probably wanting to cash in at the end.

And then, the message from Rubeena came.

”Assalaam, Hannah. How are you?”

“Ws,” I replied vaguely. I was switching TV channels while tapping on my phone , trying to find something to watch. What did this woman want from me? 

The mundane soapies didn’t even sway me at all. Why did it feel like my life had no purpose?

”I’ve spoken to Shabeer. I’m sorry that everything didn’t work out the way you planned. Maybe you expected your marriage to be something different. By now, I’m sure you’ve seen through him and know exactly what he’s all about. He has many weaknesses. Don’t let the money fool you. Remember, I’ve had four kids with him. I’ve been with him for eleven years. I know him inside out. I’ve been through some really tough times. The thing is, I stuck around because I loved him. I still do. But I also know that you deserve better. I also know that you deserve another chance in life. You are still young. You’re a clever girl, Hannah. You don’t need to deal with this abuse.”

Abuse?

The witch. She was trying to throw me off because she wanted him to herself. All he did was ruffle my feathers a few times because I spoke to him badly. He didn’t like it when I spoke back. He was a man. All men get those macho vibes from time to time. They wanted to be treated like royalty and she felt threatened by that. He wasn’t the problem. She was.

I tossed my phone aside, not wanting to read any more. I was starting to feel edgy again. I didn’t think that I had a problem.

I never did. Shabeer knew that. All I knew was that we had fun together and that’s what made me better than her. He had told me that.

Later on that evening, after popping a few of the painkillers Shabeer had left next to his bedside, I picked up my phone again.

“Hannah, I’ve found Allah. I’ve started praying. Living. Loving. Appreciating everything I have for what it is. I’ve stopped comparing myself to others. I’m not unhappy anymore. I don’t look back anymore. I look forward to an amazing future with Allah in my life. I’ve found a fulfilling part of me that’s been missing all along. Caught up in Shabeers problems and my marriage, I never could see what I was missing. All I knew was the emptiness I was feeling… always looking around to fill that gap up with some impermissible thing… more Haram… That’s all I thrived on. I want you to know that now it’s different…”

Emptiness? I couldn’t help but get goosebumps as she said it.

It was the first time she had ever reached out to me. I was also completely sure that there was something she was gaining from it. As I read it, I just couldn’t help but hate her more. Now she thought she was better than me? 

I shook my head, seeing the bigger plan here. All this business about finding Allah… what was she on? She was so spoilt and lazy. Self-centered too. All this crap she was feeding me was just a ploy to get me out of her hair, and I knew it.

When I met Rubeena for the first time, I was in awe of her amazing life. She had everything. She had a lovely house, gorgeous kids, a handsome and rich husband. Honestly, this was the life I had dreamt of living since I was a little girl.

The night Shabeer showed interest in me was like my most amazing dream coming true. Pretending I was Khawlah had brought me to an entirely different level for him. He doted on me endlessly… it was like I was his every dream and desire… well… until he found out the truth.

And like the worst kind of punch in my stomach, everything about him changed when he knew who I really was. It was too late for him to turn back then. He was already too deep in. I had to tell him that I was pregnant with his child, so he knew that there was no getting away. And of course I knew it wasn’t right, but that was the way of the world. To get things done, there was no other way but to cheat your way through.

And okay, maybe life with Shabeer wasn’t as amazing as I had thought. For men, as long as you give them what they need physically, half your battle is won. The other half was trying to win his kindness, which was a difficult task to achieve. The more I tried, the more he praised that witch. He was always comparing me to her. Always saying how much she changed her life now, and for some annoying reason, he was in awe of her stupid spectacle.

And of course, there was no-one else that I could blame but that goody-two shoes who made my blood boil.

And course, this was all Khawlah’s fault. Khawlah, who everyone thought was so amazing. Khawlah, who had somehow become the wife of Rubeena’s famous brother. Khawlah who had risen to and even higher pedestal now that everything in her life was so damn perfect …

I wished I could really just get rid of her, once and for all. In my mind, I had concocted multiple plans to do so. I could sabotage her marriage. I could even convince her to move out of this town, if I scared her enough. If it wasn’t for her, I know that things would have been different. She had taken everything that was supposed to be mine. She was living the perfect life. She was living my life.

And maybe I would have let her be, but on the day that Shabeer gave me the  divorce was the day that I lost it. Rubeena had suffered a miscarriage.

Served her right, I thought to myself. I had it out with Shabeer after I heard she was pregnant. I couldn’t believe it. Why would he even want to still be with that spoilt brat? The biggest problem was that now he was going on some kind of crazy mission to ‘serve’ his wife and family. A little too late if you asked me, but all he said was that he’d been thinking and this thing we had was fun but not practical.

Fun but not practical?

I wanted to gorge out his eyes. He had said it so casually. Made it like I was just kind of call girl. Just someone who was there for his convenience. I was never going to stand for that.

Of course, I had put up a big performance, saying I’d call the dealers and put his name in their bad books. I told him I never wanted to see him again, thinking he’d reconsider. I even tried to convince him to stay. I needed him. I needed his money, and everything that he had given me. I promised I’d have my revenge.

He seemed set on leaving, and there was nothing I could do about it. He was giving me two months to find a place to stay, but I didn’t think that was gracious at all. He was just trying to get rid of me with the least problems. My mother was right. Men were all scum.

And I could always find someone else to scrounge off but I didn’t want to get out there again. After the sordid debacle with Khawlah, my entire reputation was spoilt. Her stupid big mouth of a friend had threatened to tell my friends about me swapping exam papers. I couldn’t risk that. It would have turned the biggest trouble-makers in school against me, and no matter what, I wasn’t ready to take that on.

I sat and thought for a long time. I tried to stay sober because I didn’t have much money to do otherwise. When I felt like I needed something, I’d start to self-harm. Somehow, it would ease the pain.

Then of course, I was tired. I was broke, too. The mind games were making me sick. I felt helpless. I needed a way out. A way that was going to cost me nothing but gain me some money.

And then of course, I had an idea. I was tired of moping around. I needed to get serious. I was tired of men. I didn’t want love. Not any more. I was tired of chasing that game that I kept losing.

I tried to think of my strengths… The things that had kept me going. And yes, at first the plans sounded crazy. Really unthinkable. But the more I thought about it, the less psychotic they sounded.

I’d always be good at pretending. Acting. Portraying someone who I wasn’t. I mean, that was how I had bagged Shabeer. It was the only way I got anything in this world. It was the only way I could make something of myself.

After a good few days of planning my vengeance, I knew now was the right time. It was the perfect plan that would get everyone exactly where I needed them to be.

I threw on a purple maxi dress that my mother had used at some point in her life and found a matching scarf somewhere in my cupboard. I dressed perfectly and made my face up expertly, knowing that I looked the best that I had looked in months. I looked like a sophisticated young hijaabi. Almost like Khawlah.

Using the Uber app on my phone, the silver corolla was waiting outside precisely twenty five minutes before the time of Danyaals school dismissal.

I was good with details. I remembered things well. On the few occasions that Rubeena couldn’t make it to fetch him, I had recalled Shabeer’s rants about having to do rounds. He was always annoyed about having to fetch the kids. I even remembered exactly where Danyaal’s school was.

I walked into the office with my head high, fifteen minutes before dismissal. Smiling at the secretary, I asked if I could take my nephew, Danyaal, a bit earlier- if they didn’t mind. His mother was unavailable to make it and I had another kid to fetch from the other primary school a few roads away.

“Which grade is he in, my dear?” The white lady behind the desk asked. I kept my face pleasant. “And what did you say your name is? I just have to check on the list if you have authority to fetch him.”

“Sure,” I said confidently, grabbing a sweet that was in the bowl at the front and smiling appreciatively. “He’s in grade 2B. The name is Khawlah. K-H-A-W-L-A-H.”

What a fancy school. It reminded me of the one my mother had put me in when she had first married Uncle Nazir.

Money was king. It got you places. It spoke to the big guys.

”Ah, yes,” the woman said, smiling and peering at the computer. “Your name’s here. I’ll send a message for him to come right down. You can take a seat or wait outside. He’ll be right there.”

---

 

Just some reflection and a challenge: a general pattern we see around us is that many people are unhappy with their lives because they keep comparing themselves to others. Someone had suggested a gratitude journal… so we can reflect over the bounties we’ve been given. I think that’s an amazing idea. To look at others who are less fortunate also puts everything in so much of perspective …

May Allah grant us contentment, 

Much Love, 

A 🌸

Sunnah reminder: Speaking Kindly: Abu Hurayrah(RA) relates that Nabi (SAW) may , said: “Whoever believes in God and the Last Day should speak a good word or remain silent.  And whoever believes in God and the Last Day should show hospitality to his neighbor.  And whoever believes in God and the Last Day should show hospitality to his guest.”

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