Bismihi Ta’ala
Hamzah Part 67
Never judge a book by its cover.
It was a pretty self-explanatory, old school rule of thumb, but there was no time that I felt it more than than when my own conscience pricked at me to learn that very important life lesson.
Inside every person, there’s a person you may not know. Everyone has secrets. Secrets that they hide within the darkest tunnels of obscurity. Some they keep to protect others. Some they keep to protect themselves.
And whilst learning this, I eventually came to know that there are few real men amongst men, who are idling in a certain kind of slumber in this temporary world, as if they are souls of free birds, stuck inside their physical bodies.
These are people who know where they belong, long before they even taste it. There are people of such absolute faith and conviction, that they hesitate not even a moment before they are ready to sacrifice themselves in Allah Ta’ala’s path.
While us weak souls will mourn separation from their wives and children, there are others whose hearts are inebriated with everlasting exhilaration. Who truly see martyrdom as the masterpiece of man’s greatness.
And I never thought I would see this… and I never expected it from a guy like I saw it in… but when the yearning for something other than more of this Duniyaa struck my heart, it was only then that I realised the essence of the menial life.
And it was one lazy Sunday evening when I took Mohsina to see her parents, that I had somehow found myself immersed in an idealistic train of thought, wondering quite aptly what made people who they were. Was it their past? Was it their present?
I was watching this macho-looking guy as he stood on one side of the yard, watering the rose garden with such dedication, even on a Sunday afternoon as if the rest of the world didn’t matter at all, and I couldn’t help but ask him the question on my mind.
“Hey, aren’t you off today?” I called out, after nodding in greeting.
Being outside, stealing moments for my smoking addiction would always put us in each others midst. I just never really took out the time to ask him much before that, and I kind of felt that maybe it was time to.
Zubair turned back as I felt around in my pockets to light up my cigarette. That damn lighter always evaded me at the most inappropriate times.
Watching me with the unlit joint in my mouth, he lifted his shirt slightly, dug into his pocket and tossed me a red lighter.
I lit the end with fervour, tossing his lighter back to him before before realising that he didn’t answer my question.
“Not going home?” I asked again, taking in a pull of the cigarette and savouring the calm it brought me.
I had been smoking for years and though I knew Mohsina hated it and I did want to stop someday, I needed it too much to even think of it anytime soon.
Zubair gave me a simple smile while he turned around to switch the hose off.
“This is home,” he said, with a certainty that caught me completely off guard as he turned to me, and my eye caught site of something shiny attached to the top of his pants, as he pulled up his t-shirt to pop his lighter back in.
It was so quick, that I would have probably missed it, but I was watching him carefully all the while and there was no way I could have mistaken what I saw. I immediately narrowed my eyes at him as he looked back at me, almost to challenge me. It was almost as if he expected me to ask more, but I wasn’t sure if I should live up to the challenge.
The thing was, I didn’t know much about Zubair. From what my father-in-law had said, I had figured that he was a good worker. A decent character, who didn’t cause much trouble and minded his own business, all the months he had been there.
Basically, he was what every good worker was. He was honest and hardworking, and he basically sorted out all the technicalities of the farm labour… the stuff that the old man couldn’t do himself.
And no one would expect any less, but I could see that under that baggy t-shirt, he was hiding more things than lethal weapons. His fort-like physique itself would probably be a force on its own, and as my curiosity piqued, and I was barely one to stay quiet when something pricked at me, so I couldn’t help but narrow my eyes at him slightly as I puffed out a cloud of smoke, and asked him exactly what I wanted to know.
”So who exactly are you?”
I didn’t ask it with a rude intention. I really and genuinely wanted to know who he was and where he came from.
After all, he worked for my in-laws who were people that I had become increasingly protective over the past few months.
My brother-in-law Muhammed Husayn was in the midst of adolescence and easily influenced, and if he wasn’t forced to study right for his end-of-year exams, then I knew he would be outside with him. Obviously, Muhammad Husayn had his own theories about who Zubair was, but you couldn’t exactly trust the theories of a teenager who wore army clothing and collected shiny weapons as a hobby.
Zubair was smirking at me weirdly while his white teeth shone from behind his curled up lips while he rolled up the hosepipe expertly around his well-toned arm, almost as if he wanted to tell me some kind of scandalous story, but was deciding against it. His arms were a deeply tanned almond bronze, and I could only imagine that he spent many hours out here in the sun, working like a dog.
He must be built with some solid stuff.
“Would you believe me if I told you that I’m just a regular guy?” He said with a humourless smile.
I gazed at him for a minute, and then shook my head.
”No.”
He grinned, his cheeks spreading even wider this time, as if he expected that.
”Well then,” he said, placing the hosepipe on the hook on the wall and coming a few steps closer. I noticed that he didn’t make any moves to light his own cigarette.
I wasn’t sure if he smoked, but why he kept a lighter with him was beyond me. Instead, he took out a miswaak from another pocket, giving me a flash on that shiny looking object once again, while he chewed on it softly.
“Well then, what?” I said, looking at him, even more confused.
”Well, then you’re right,” he said, without a moments deliberation, not smiling anymore. “I’m not a regular guy. I’m someone who you would probably stay very far away from, if you knew who I really was.”
I raised my eyebrows, wondering if he was threatening me.
But he didn’t look like he was, and I wasn’t a stupid guy. I had heard Mohsina talk about this guy. I didn’t really understand what she was saying, but now that he was literally in front of me, I could understand it. I could see it worried that her siblings would spend their time around ‘bad blood’. What that meant, I wasn’t entirely sure.
The guy had quite a presence, and it wasn’t the most comforting one.
He looked at me for a few minutes, and then leaned against the wall, almost as if he was deliberately stalling the big reveal.
“Are you some kind of mafia?” I asked, feeling stupid even asking that. Of course what I’d heard Mohsina say could never be true.
He didn’t even look a tiny bit fazed by my accusation.
He shook his head, steadied his gaze on mine, and then pulled up his shirt slightly, before unstrapping the holder that I had glimpsed just a few minutes ago.
Within a few seconds, the shiny metal weapon lay within his hands, and as I looked at the intricate carvings, I couldn’t help but take a moment while I caught my breath.
There was no doubt that this was some sort of dagger or sword, but it wasn’t an ordinary one either. This weapon was something that was specially made, for a special purpose. And as I glanced at it, I couldn’t help but remember a Hadith about how a Sahabi would keep a dagger strapped on them, to defend the Deen. Him standing there, his dusty kurta hitched up, reminded me of nothing less. And as I took the weapon he was holding out, holding it carefully, I couldn’t help but feel the truth of the words engraved on it.
Forgive him who wrongs you;
join him who cuts you off;
do good to him who does evil to you;
and speak the truth
even if it be against yourself.
It was astoundingly beautiful, both the blade and the saying, and as I looked up at him, bewildered about what this all meant, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of wonder.
According to a narration, It said that one of the swords of the Beloved sallalahu alaihi wa salam was written that very inscription.
When the weapon of the Prophet (Sallahu Alaihi Wa Sallam), had been assembled, I found on the handle or blade of his sword three sayings, “Maintain relations with those who cut you off, speak the truth even if it is against yourself, and be good to one who is evil to you.”
Source: Mu’jam Ibn al-A’rābī 1507
Grade: Sahih (authentic) according to Al-Albani
Even on the battlefield, the Message of the Beloved sallalahu alaihi wa salam, inscribed onto Their tool of war, was one of forgiveness, kindness, compassion. What a stark contrast to the usual message drilled into soldiers, which is to show no mercy to the enemy.
It was inconceivably amazing. What this all meant about Zubair, I wasn’t quite sure. I looked at him, searching for an answer, still in awe of this weapon in front of me.
“It’s a new one,” he said with a small smile. “I have plenty of others with less admirable sayings… but I was truly hoping that with this, would be a new start…”
So there were more of these daggers he owned? How many of these things did he even own?
The aching question was… Why would he even keep these kind of daggers?
”You’re a good guy,” I almost whispered, questioning that myself, shaking my head, still awestruck and unbelieving. The next answer was soon going to answer my query.
”I’m a trained assassin,” he said without a hitch, watching me as I widened my eyes. “I don’t have to tell you what that entails. I’m trained to kill for money.”
I gulped and looked at him, shaking my head disbelievingly.
He was joking. Right. Hah.
He was just messing with me.
But as I lifted my eyes from the piece of lethal metal and met his, there was not a hint of humour in his murky eyes.
Oh hell. This guy was even worse than I had ever assumed. It was the first time I’ve ever heard of anyone with that type of job description and I couldn’t help but feel my heart tremor as I digested it. Did this guy think that he was from some Killers movie or something?
“You’re joking, right?” I murmured, my voice foreign even to myself as I stubbed my cigarette in a pot plant, trying to distract myself as he looked back at me, his eyes following my fingers as I stubbed the joint a little too ferociously.
”You serious?” I said after a few seconds, gazing at him now with a look of disbelief as he looked back at me seriously, knowing that his silence meant something.
Up close I could see his eyes were some kind of different colour.
He smiled and looked down, almost in humility, as I studied him, slowly beginning to believe the truth. All these months, my father-in-laws farm worker was a trained assassin. The question now was, was he here for business or not?
”So you’re here to kill someone?” I asked, a little protectively, trying to understand what his motive was for working here.
He shook his head, taking the dagger back and strapping it away silently, before looking back up at me.
”I would never hurt anyone in this family,” he said immediately, almost as if his life depended on it, and I actually believed him.
“But why?”
He looked at me, and for a second, I actually wondered if he was sussing me out, as if trying to figure out if he could trust me.
I almost wanted to laugh at the concept, but then he spoke.
“I hated who I was until I heard a talk one day,” he said softly, as if uncertain about whether to continue. “And it was like my entire heart had been cut open and penetrated by the message. Ironic… considering that I’ve done that to people in the past.”
I swallowed, feeling a shockwave pulsate through me. He really killed people in his past. I wasn’t sure whether I should still even be there.
“Anyway,” he continued, shaking his head as if he was trying to shake the memories away. “I went up to the Aalim to ask him… with my sins and my past, how it is ever possible for me to be a friend of Allah? I was so sure that he would kick me out of there. Tell me that people like me have no place in Islam. But then he looked at me, with so much of conviction, and he told me: ‘Raise your hands with deep regret, remorse in your heart, and turn to your Rabb. Shed a few tears… even if you’re faking it… but turn to him and meaningfully say: Oh Allah, I want to be Your friend, so forgive my sins I committed since maturity and grant me the ability to only do what pleases you in the future.’
And that was it. So then became the beginning of a new life for me, and my mission in life became something completely different to what I had known my entire life.”
The words struck my heart almost immediately, and as the weight of his words hit me, I was awestruck by its magnanimity. I understood that even if he was a bad guy at some stage, it was obvious that he was no longer on that misplaced path. That just the faith of this Aalim was someone who had brought a man in the deepest rut of darkness, onto an illuminated path.
“So what is your new mission?” I asked, finding my voice after a few seconds. All this talk about assassins and missions was seriously making me think that one of us were deranged. I was pretty sure it wasn’t me. “And how do I know if you’re for real?”
I was cynical. I felt like I was stuck in some kind of prehistoric world. I needed to know more, to learn more, and I wanted to test him.
”I protect people now,” he said simply. “I see to those who can’t do it themselves… take care of what people can’t defend themselves…”
I looked at him warily.
“And how do I know what you’re actually here for?” I asked him, because I was never the type of guy to just take someone for their word.
”Maybe one day I’ll get to show you,” he said with a shrug, almost as if he wasn’t really interested in proving anything to me, specifically.
A mission of submission, he called it.
It was like he had made his peace with himself and he had already decided that he had changed. It was between him and his Lord and that was that.
I wasn’t sure if he could really be trusted. I also wasn’t sure why I asked him to come with me. Maybe I wanted to trust him, or maybe I wanted him to prove himself to me.
And if I hadn’t known better, and I hadn’t asked, well, I would have never known exactly who Zubair really was.
Maybe he had dealings with Hashim in the past or maybe he just wanted to help, but when he asked to accompany me, there was really no way that I could refuse him because he seemed so intent on helping me.
And I didn’t expect much when he offered to help me. I honestly and truly just expected Zubair to be an innocent bystander, watching the interactions between Hashim, his two burly armed guys and and Imraan and I, and silently listen to our interactions. I didn’t know on what level he had worked in the past, and how people saw him. I didn’t know how unhinged he really was.
And I had watched him as he got into the car, knowing that all he carried with him was this strangely shaped dagger with a message that changed his life, for some reason, I felt strangely inspired. Awakened. It was as if Allah had placed this guy directly in my midst to learn some important lesson, and all that was about to be revealed in good time…
And honestly, the way he had become right then was very much like how the Sahabah was. With his dusty Kurtah and fearless spirit, with nothing short of fervour and hopeless ambition in his eyes. It made me think that maybe I was the one who had been on a misplaced mission my entire life, and not him.
In it, I could see a thirst to protect and to fight for what was right. And an amazing quality of people who had a tainted past, was that just as intense as his bad deeds in the past had been, I could that anything good that he aspired to do was approached with the exact same fervour.
As much as he had done wrong and sought blood for the wrong reasons, now he was adamant in making it up, and trying his utmost to avenge it in the more honourable way possible. By atoning for the wrong, by exceeding it with right.
His mission and his life aim was something that literally knocked the wind out of me, as I watched him with a new sense of amazement as he spoke to me.
“You just say what you need to say,” Zubair had said softly, his voice sounding smooth and unassuming, as we got off the car at Imraans place. I had chosen to meet there because I didn’t want Mohsina to know. I just hoped that she wouldn’t find out. “They’re probably going to come at you from all directions, and try to scare you into accepting their conditions… just… Don’t be scared.”
It was easy for him to say. I felt so responsible. Over the fear of Mohsina finding out, all I wanted was to keep my family safe. Protected. I never wanted anyone to touch my wife or my child, and that was my priority. Thinking about my wife was something that brought a tremor to my heart.
I had so much at risk and to not give in to Hashim was something that I couldn’t imagine.
But Zubair wasn’t backing down and his way with words were something that infiltrated my thoughts deeply as I entered, though I was positively reeling from anger, I somehow managed to keep my calm as I entered.
And at first glance, I could already see that Imraan was out of his element.
Hashim had a nerve. He had turned up with two fully armed men, wanting to make some kind of untouchable statement. I could only imagine my sister-in-laws state of mind right then, as I saw Imraan frantically pacing up and down as she called him to the kitchen.
I could tell she was worried, from the hushed hysterics that I heard as I passed the kitchen. Even Uthman was out of sight, and I could imagine her straddling him to the chair he was sitting in, just to keep in out of harms way.
I only hoped that she wouldn’t tell Mohsina anything. I knew Imraan would take care of that, but the worry still consumed me.
And despite it all, I was calm. Although I was fully focused on psyching myself up as I took a seat, I couldn’t miss the fact that the minute Hashim saw Zubair, something shifted in his gaze, and I could see his normally volatile demeanour come down a few notches.
It was a surprise to me, but it was a cue for me to step up too, and I took the opportunity with open arms.
“I’m not giving you custody,” I said bluntly as we sat down, looking Hashim in the eye, after a few moments of awkward conversation. “But I’m prepared to talk.”
As much as Zubair had boosted my confidence, I knew that it wouldn’t be fair to completely disregard the motto he had set about when I first got to know him.
Show kindness.
Maintain relations.
Forgive even those who oppress you.
They weren’t just empty words. They were words that had lifted and inspired me when I least expected it. It would be my new mission, that I needed to try and live by.
And I knew this, because man, this guy had tested me, more than anyone had ever. But to give him back exactly what he had given me did nothing for me. As it turns out, there’s no happiness in vengeance.
And although I was being kinder than I could have… He wasn’t looking happy about it, but he nodded and shifted his gaze from Zubair to me, and then back to Zubair.
“Why is he here?”
The question was aimed at me but I could see Zubair’s entire frame straighten as he said it, his unusual eyes narrowing menacingly, and from the way he looked at Hashim, I could already tell that he was regretting it.
”If I was in your position, I wouldn’t be worried about me,” Zubair said, looking at Hashim.
And though Hashim was a threat to any sane person, the strangest thing about Zubair was that as he looked every one of them straight back in the eye, there was not even a flash of fear on his striking face. This whole thing could go terribly wrong, and yet here he was, a look of utter disinterest, almost as if this just bored him. It was then that I came to realise the true nature of this guy. Death was something that didn’t scare him, but the very notion of that made chills run down my spine.
”Nevermind,” Hashim mumbled with an exasperated sigh, and I could see he felt the same as I as I heard him say something to the two armed guys at his side as they looked at him expectantly, as if waiting for an instruction he wasn’t giving. There was a change in plan and this was something unanticipated.
And just as it was for them, it was something I didn’t expect.
By nature, Zubair was fierce.
Zubair was the most unassuming guy when you met him briefly, but being here with people who knew him, it felt like I was unsheathing his layers of camouflage that he hid so well. When placed in situations that threatened his peace, those very layers that made him seem so vulnerable seem to peel back, one by one… and there he was, right in front of me. This fierce and powerful guy who had a presence that I hadn’t ever anticipated.
And in retrospect, I suppose what he was trying to say back when he lent me his lighter, was that he was an absolute animal, and there was no other way to put it. Zubair was a force of nature, a raging beast in sheep’s skin that I got to know about when I least expected it.
And that’s when I came to realise, that no matter what, my Lord was always watching out for me. Even when I thought I had no one, what had actually happened was divinely inspired, and the fact that Allah Ta’ala had sent this warrior into my midst exactly when I needed was something that I could never undermine.
He was the epitome of tact, the perfect blend of domineering power and grace, even in the most extreme situations. His words cut through the air like a sword, short but to the point, and I could only imagine that he had probably sat in many meetings of this type before, probably in his previous life.
And to tell the truth, I had been really worried about this meeting. It had kept me awake and gave me nightmares in whichever way was simultaneously possible, but somehow, Hashim agreed to my demands with little resistance, and although I was open to letting their family see Zaid and visit him, for them to take him, even for short periods, was another story.
I knew that I couldn’t allow that without talking to Mohsina. I also knew that the chat with her about all this was overdue, but after a long and heated conversation that eventually ended in Hashim and I parting ways for that day just before Jumuah salaah because Imraan wouldn’t allow it to go further, I could finally breathe easily.
I looked at my phone for a minute, seeing Mohsina’s messages, but not knowing how to explain it to her… I knew that we would have to figure this out properly, and I was going to take my time in doing so.
What I didn’t expect, as I left, was for Rabia to be waiting next to the car, bags already packed and ready to leave with me. By any standards, it was inappropriate, but explaining to Rabia would be catastrophic.
Imraan had given me a pitiful look as he saw it, because he knew that there was no way that I could say no to my sister.
It was a complete crusher of my plans. I had hopes of getting to know more about Zubair on the way home, after what had happened today. I wanted to know how his reputation preceded him, even when he wasn’t in that kind of circle anymore. I had so much that I wanted to ask him, but with Rabia making herself a new passenger, it would be impossible.
And I knew that I could have said no, but having my sister upset wasn’t something that I was prepared to deal with.
Keeping the peace was something that was somewhat of a weakness, at the most inappropriate times. To speak to Rabia and get her to understand that it was hardly appropriate was something I wasn’t prepared to do. She was a grown woman with a mind that I barely understood, and frankly, I didn’t want to start an argument right then.
I knew that I had agreed to keep her and Mohsina apart but I couldn’t shut her out completely. She was also entitled to see Zaid, even if it was for a little while. That would be the plan.
It was a semi-silent ride back home with Rabia in the back, and Zubair sleeping with one eye open, as I supposed ex-assassins would do. And as I dropped him at the front of the house, getting off to thank him profusely, I could see that he was rushing to get back on the job again.
The guy was really something else. An assassin with the most powerful abilities and presence, and yet there he was, working in a humble coffee shop and serving people as if there was nothing else in the world he would rather do.
It opened my eyes to so much.
Made me believe that even when there’s no hope, even those who are stuck in the dingiest corners of darkness, still find the truth of light, and find beauty in simplicity. That even with misplaced visions, and mistaken missions, a way out is never far off.
Sometimes all it takes was a little bit of submission, to see the bigger and brighter picture…
And while I drove, all caught up my thoughts about Zubair and the mysteries surrounding him, I barely even realised that i had entered our apartment parking lot. I felt myself mentally switch off as I reached my parking spot, anxious to see Mos and Zaid again, somehow feeling like it had been eternity since that morning.
All I wanted to do right then was forget about the issues, the drawn-out day and be with my family, and as Rabia piped up from the back, I almost jumped in my seat. She had been sitting on her phone from the time we left and with the silence from the backseat, I had even forgotten that she was there.
“Don’t forget to take my bag out,” she demanded, tucking her phone away as she stepped onto the staircase as if on some mission, and I gave her a confused look as I wondered why she would need her bag. She had mentioned that she wanted to see Zaid and I was planning on dropping her back at the house after Esha.
“Your bag?” I asked, a little bit hesitantly, because I didn’t want to cause a huge argument here in the parking lot.
“Duh,” she said, turning back to look at me with an irate look. “My PJs and clothes for tomorrow are in there. I doubt Mohsina will lend me any of hers.”
She grinned slyly and I swallowed nervously. I was in a bit of a fix. On the one hand, I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, and on the other hand, I knew that her and Mohsina in one flat would probably not be a good idea.
I had left Mohsina that morning with so much hanging. I hadn’t explained a thing to her, and coming back here with Rabia… well, I wasn’t sure how it would all go down…
“I promise I’ll be on my best behaviour,” she said, her lip pouted sympathetically as she looked back at me with wide eyes.
I couldn’t say no. With my sister, she always brought me to a point of painful submission,
And the worst mistake I made that day , as I pulled out her suitcase and trudged up the staircase, was believing her.
Mission Sunnah Revival:
Being able to view the lives of others as if they are our own in the main building block to social media life.
It is only human to begin to think that the lives of strangers appear to be so perfect, as opposed to reality. Little do we notice that their content is carefully crafted to do this very thing, making us discontent with our lives.
To combat this, we should look to those inferior to us, so we do not become envious and begin to realise the bounty Allah Ta’ala has gifted us with.
Keep in mind:
Abu Huraira reported: The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “Wealth is not in having many possessions. Rather, true wealth is the richness of the soul.”
Source: Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī 6446, Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 1051
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
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#ReviveSunnahofDuaa
#SunnahofMaintainingTies
#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah
#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts
#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq
#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping
#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze
#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers
#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak
#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet
#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood
#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand
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