Sinister Vibes Only

Bismihi Ta’ala

Saaliha

Part 79

”Can you stop stressing?”

Imraan was looking at me with his eyebrow raised as I bit my lip, trying hard not to think of the thing that had been bothering me the last two days.

“It’s not good for the baby.”

He came toward me, rubbing his hands vigorously up and down the sides of my arms as if to comfort me.

It wasn’t doing much good.

“How do you know that I’m stressing?” I asked with a frown, rolling my eyes at him as I breathed out.

“You do that weird thing with your lips,” he said, shaking his head, his brown eyes twinkling playfully. “As if you’re going to nibble them off.”

I narrowed my eyes and he grinned at me humourlessly. I stuck my tongue out at him. Sometimes I wondered if we were still kids.

He was watching me carefully before I finally snapped. I couldn’t hold this in. I had to tell him.

But not yet.

“I just feel like we should be doing something!” I suddenly exclaimed, throwing my hands up in the air and feeling exasperated. “You just sit around and watch me being all riled up, as if you’re not bothered. Aren’t you worried, Imraan? Can you imagine what this is going to do to Hamzah? Remember he took like fifty steps forward when he changed his life and got married. What’s going to happen after?”

Imraan merely shrugged at me before looking away, avoiding the obvious.

“I’d like to believe that it’s only a paper but with those two I really can’t be certain…”

He honestly didn’t know what else to say. My mother-in-law had retreated into her own kind of shell after Mohsina had told her about the court case. My father-in-law said nothing at all.

As for Rabia, I couldn’t help but notice something frisky in her eyes that day Mohsina told us about this nightmare they were experiencing. Well, after she literally forced them to tell her what was going on in their marriage, as if she was part of it.

And then there were the messages.

“What about Zaid?” I had asked the day before, my entire world feeling like if was spinning as I recalled what Mohsina had said about the court case. A divorce was imminent. There was no other way. “What will happen to him?!”

I was getting a little panicky. In situations like this, I tend to get prickly and not manage emotions very well. Being pregnant didn’t help the situation. Everything was like fifteen times more intense.

”He will be in between us for now,” Mohsina had said, her voice sounding strained. “He’s not feeding so much anyway. I don’t know if it’s the stress or if the milk is just drying up in the past two weeks… But without needing me all the time and us being apart… I think it’s Allah’s way of showing me that he’ll be okay.”

I watched her as her expression remained stoic, like Mohsina’s often was, but there was a certain vulnerability that seeped through the hardened exterior that she was trying to portray.

She was emotional. Unquestionably. Maybe she was feeling it that Zaid was self-weaning. She looked worn and pale and I could see that she was probably barely sleeping. All this must be taking a toll on her.

I glanced at Zaid who was sitting in the feeding chair that my father-in-law bought for him. He was family. Part of our family, and no one dared ever say otherwise. He was sucking his brocolli covered hands with such concentration that I couldn’t help but smile at him, despite the somber situation.

My mother-in-law was fussing over him and my father-in-law was alternating between watching Zaid and looking out at Hamzah and Imraan talking outside.

”So when’s it all happening?” I asked, not sure if I really wanted to know.

“After the Nikah,” she said simply, but with a tiny smile at the mention of Nikah. “My sisters  insisting that they have it this weekend. She’s such a hopeless romantic that she literally cannot wait. I thought it would be best if Hamzah and I were together for the wedding and the functions. Too many questions otherwise…”

I heard her concerns but my heart felt like it was going to crack open.

My eyes drifted to Hamzah, who was leaning against the balustrade outside while Imraan sat in front of him, speaking about something animatedly. I could see from my husbands hand gestures that they were talking  pretty seriously and I just had a hunch that they were discussing the same issues that were on my mind.

I wanted to ask her what exactly happened to make it so bad. I knew that it had to do with her old boss and that there had been some foul play involved. Imraan wasn’t the type to air anyone’s dirty laundry, no matter what it entailed, but I got the idea that Mohsina and the old boss weren’t just having a professional relationship. I had heard Rabia’s theories too, who claimed that Mohsina was very much seriously involved with him, but listening to Rabia always caused problems. She was also looking a little too smug about the entire situation for me to actually take her seriously.

Rabia had just sauntered in at that point, and from her body language I could tell that she was looking to start an argument. I’d been living with her long enough to tell.

“What time are we even eating?” She scowled, glancing at the two salads on the counter as if they annoyed her. “Do you guys even know how hungry I am? I need some protein. Like. STAT.”

I almost rolled my eyes, but Mohsina’s raised eyebrows still portrayed enough annoyance for both of us.

”Help yourself,” Mohsina said, nudging one of the salads towards her. “There’s cheese in there.”

I wanted to giggle but Mos’s straight face was too serious to even try. She had quite the quirky sense of humour, and I also got the feeling that she was upset about how Rabia had pushed them in the spotlight the day before when they told us about the courtcase.

“Not enough protein,” Rabia said with a flip of her hair. “Plus, I’m like starving. I only had my protein shake this morning and it’s been like 7 hours.”

”Ah,” Mohsina said, something unreadable in her eyes as she looked back at her, hands propped up on the counter against her face. “And where do you get your special protein shakes from?”

The question seemed innocent enough and Rabia looked pretty flattered that she was asking about her dietary requirements and restrictions. There was a certain attitude she adopted when she replied, trying to make her lifestyle sound as glamorous as possible.I always noticed it.

”Oh it’s that place near Melrose arch,” she said with an easy smile. “You know, they sell all those organic things that make you feel like your life is soooo unhealthy. Near the ice cream place that you-“

She cut herself short and quickly re-adjusted her head band as she paused awkwardly.

She had stopped mid sentence and was now shifting around and adjusting her phone cover.

Wait.

Did I miss something?

A sinister look passed between the two of them that involved Mohsina’s narrowed eyes and Rabia’s fidgety fingers, and I immediately got the feeling that there was something glaring at me here.

”I meant,” Rabia reiterated, taking a deep breath and finally looking up. “The place that I posted about that sells the most amazing flavours of ice cream.”

”The same one that has the guava and mint one, right?” Mohsina asked with a cock of her head, not missing a beat, despite Rabia’s pinched face. “I mean, I always wondered… who on earth even eats such weird flavours? Do you know how unpalatable that is, Sawls?”

Mohsina’s gaze switched to me and I frowned and shook my head at the mention of guava. I’ve never been a fan of the fruit so ordering the ice cream flavour for me was kind of out of the question.

”I-“

I turned to look at Rabia who has stopped her sentence, and I could actually see her entire body suddenly rigid, as if frozen in place after Mohsina’s gaze landed on her. She looked like she had been struck senseless by whatever Mohsina had just said.

”I used to know a guy who actually loved that flavour,” Mohsina said, ignoring her, but her face riddled with suspicion as she said it. “I wonder if he still eats it…”

She was looking distinctly uncomfortable but before I could even ask what was up, and Mohsina could continue the conversation, Imraan and Hamzah made their way inside, both looking a little frazzled by whatever they had been speaking so intensely about.

My husband, being the everlasting peacemaker, landed his gaze on Rabia’s stiffened shoulders questionably, not able to be quiet.

”Whatsup sis?” He asked animatedly. “All okay?”

He ruffled her open hair playfully and

Rabia’s entire demanour seemed to suddenly morph again as she looked at Imraan and huffed.

”Nothing,” she said stiffly, looking all tensed up and unsure of what she should do next. Her hands were twisted around each other and I watched her flatten her bouncy hair as she looked at him.

I barely even noticed it, but she had changed so much in the past year. Where she had been really strict about hijab, now Rabia didn’t bother much, especially if she was going out to gym or for her runs.

Mohsina’s face was as stony as ever as she watched Rabia, and as for Rabia… It was like Mohsina had rattled her in a way she never knew before.

Something about the ice cream place had shifted something in the atmosphere. I wish I knew what was going on.

“Your face doesn’t seem like nothings up,” Hamzah said with a small grin, the serious expression I had seen on him earlier as he spoke to Imraan slightly lifted.

It was like he didn’t want Mohsina to see his true feelings.

“I have a masters in reading your expressions and I can see when something’s unsettled.”

I looked at Mohsina who was now seated on the opposite side of the room, also watching Rabia curiously. All eyes were on her and she was feeling the pressure. For the first time in months, I actually felt sorry for Rabia.

“I’m fine!” Rabia almost shouted, throwing her hands up into the air, glaring at us. “Stop trying to read me and force me to feel stuff. What the hell is your vibe?!”

Hamzah’s expression was now completely lost as Rabia stormed off, in all her unpredictable fury. He was looking from Rabia to Mohsina and then to me, as if trying to find some answers that he wasn’t getting.

I shrugged. I was honestly just as lost.

“What on earth?”

Hamzah was looking at Mohsina, who was  unreadable, but I could tell that he had no idea either of what was going on.

“Vibe,” Imraan said as he watched he retreat up the stairs. “What the hell is a vibe anyway?”

He frowned slightly, scratching his head. Honestly, sometimes he acted ten years older than he actually was.

“It’s like a mood,” I said with a small smile, trying to move on from the outburst. “Intuition? Like something you have. I don’t know. Positive, negative. Sinister. Cool.  Good vibes only is like a thing people say right?”

I turned to Mohsina but she was spaced out as i looked at her. Sinister. Why did I even say that?

Oh yes, because that’s how Rabia had been acting.

Hamzah had been frowning at her questioningly just before he moved into the lounge to check on Zaid, who my father-in-law was very busy entertaining. As he walked forward, I couldn’t help but notice Mohsina following them both with her eyes, watching Hamzah as he picked Zaid up and kissed his face unreservedly.

I could practically see her swooning.

It was obvious that she still felt for him. A lot.

Besides, when I watched Hamzah and Mohsina, I could tell that they weren’t ready for this. As strong as they were trying to be, I could see the glances that passed between them that betrayed their words.

They were both, undoubtedly, in love. But what’s love got to do with destructive law suits that can ruin your life, right?

I didn’t understand much about the corporate world but I did know that Mohsina had been pretty deep in it. I just wished that there was an answer for her to get out of it.

“Jannah vibes!” Imraan almost shouted randomly as he held his hand up in the air. “That makes sense, right?”

Oh yes, we were still on the vibes thing.

”I mean, technically, we should all be having Jannah vibes right?”

I smiled at that. Jannah vibes for sure. I mean, no one’s ever asked me what’s my vibe before. It wasn’t like a basic conversation anyone would have. But our entire aim in this world is suppose  to be Jannah.

The thing is, in everything that we do, our core question should always be to ask: what does Allah expect of me regarding this?

Society is warped and social media has got everyone into sheep mentality, but Qur’ān and Sunnah is always unchanging and forms the best anchor. Through the lens of the hereafter, we let ourselves understand the true kind of vibes we should all have.

Abu Huraira reported: The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “Whoever is kind, affable, and easy-going, Allah will forbid him from entering Hellfire.”

Source: al-Sunan al-Kubrá lil-Bayhaqī 20806

Grade: Sahih (authentic) according to Al-Albani

And it was simple. To be good, to be humble, to be easy going and kind to everyone was part of our path to attain Jannah. And most definitely everyone’s path isn’t the same, but what I did know was that to strive to be who Allah Ta’ala wants us to be, despite how hard it may be, is goals for me.

That’s definitely some amazing kind of Jannah vibe.

”No Jannah vibes coming from that direction,” I murmured light heartedly, nodding toward the nook where Rabia was and remembering her sullen face as she left.

She didn’t come out again till the evening, and no one really asked. In fact, I kind of appreciated the peace.

If was after Hamzah and Mohsina left that Imraan and my in-laws were sitting in the lounge while Uthman had pulled out a pack of uno cards. I sat on the carpet and played with him mindlessly as I heard the conversation surrounding me, feeling myself lose any of the hope that I’d had about them sorting out the problem.

It seemed that the more time passed, the more complicated it became.

We were in the city for the week since Imraan had some work, and being Mohsina’s sisters wedding, Imraan thought that it would be best to stay till the main even, especially since Hamzah seemed to be a littel stressed out.

Mohsina had told us that we would all be invited but since her sister wanted a simple and quick affair, dates and times would be decided in the week and she would let us know from there.

And though the wedding was so exciting and fun to plan, even for me as she tasked me with baking a few dozen mini cakes for tea, I couldn’t help but feel the impending doom of what was to come after it was all over. I knew for a fact that this event was keeping them together and that it was afterwards when Mohsina and Hamzah would be forced to part ways, no matter what happened in between.

The talk was too depressing. If I heard about legal divorce and embezzlement one more time, I would probably start getting emotional. I needed a diversion and

I loved to bake. Knowing that I would be tasked with making mini cakes with a Nikah theme got me all excited. Though I kept most of my baking supplies at the farm now, I did still have some at the main house where we used to stay in Joburg. I felt myself gravitating toward the kitchen, wanting to check on what was still okay to use and make a list of what I would still need to get.

I barely noticed Rabia sitting on the corner nook, next to the grocery cupboard, until I heard her little snort of laughter. I whipped my head around to see her watching her phone. She was sitting away from the family, as usual, stuck on social media and whatever else was on that device of delusion. It was weird how people would forsake an actual conversation for something that was virtual, but with Rabia, nothing seemed to even surprise me anymore.

“All okay?” I said lightly, opening the drawers below the oven as I glanced at her.

”Mhmm,” she murmured, nodding blankly. She barely even lifted her head. She was obviously not into actual socialising today.

And it was so sad because that kind of behaviour was actually becoming so normal, that it scared me. While I thrived on visitors, actual meetings and functions that happened, the newer generation were far too comfortable sitting on their phones having fake relationships that have no depth. We are so obsessed with media, building and things, that we’ve stopped worrying about the things in life that really matter.

There is a slightly sinister side (depending on how you look at it) to how social media shapes what you care about.

“Mark Zuckerberg, a journalist was asking him a question about the news feed. And the journalist was asking him,

“Why is this so important?” And Zuckerberg said, “A squirrel dying in your front yard may be more relevant to your interests right now than people dying in Africa.” And I want to talk about what a Web based on that idea of relevance might look like.”1 -Eli Pariser

The glaring truth is: social media companies decide, for example, which tragedies will provide the option of updating your profile picture in solidarity. As we consume content about one issue, or similar types of issues, algorithms then kick in. They note our interest, and then continue to serve up similar content.

Without realizing it, we are in the ultimate brainless echo chamber.

Everyone we know is talking about the same thing and from the same point of view. It is then unfathomable for anyone to not take part, or have a differing opinion. We assume that if people simply saw the things we saw, they would think the way we think. Hours are then invested into debates over group text and comments sections sharing and resharing the content that supports our views while ignoring everything else.

People think that posting something to 100 strangers or 20 friends is going to somehow completely counteract the effects of the politico-me-dia complex.

That’s not going to happen.

What we need to do instead is focus on our more personal networks. We need to have   deeper relationships with actual people… have frank discussions with and challenge each other’s views. We need to switch off that Wi-Fi connection and build our family bonds.

Rabia was obsessed with the exact opposite.

I ignored her as I continued to search for some pastel coloured cake flora that I was so sure I had bought a few weeks ago. She was humming to herself and me, being so busy with my own task, I barely even noticed that she had something on the stove. I mean, there was plenty of food left over from earlier, but Rabia had been so annoyed with us all, for Allah knows what reason, that she didn’t even come eat.

Not only that, it was obvious that the food didn’t meet her standards, hence the reason why she was actually here, making her own packet of those ever-popular extra hot noodles that everyone had been raving about months ago.

“Something on the stove?” I asked, sniffing something a little odd but not quite sure if I was just being paranoid.

”Oh shit,” she said immediately, her eyes widening at me as I closed the cupboard and watched her literally blast off the bar stool she was sitting on.

In seconds, her phone had literally fallen onto the counter next to me as I tossed the few cake toppers I had found onto it, sorting through the lot while I heard her mumble a whole lot of incoherent words under her breath.

She was so busy trying to do damage control as she wiped the overboiled mess off the stove, that she didn’t even hear her phone ping.

And I didn’t mean to look. I just happened to be there at the time, and her phone was right next to me. It was almost like a reflex reaction. The phone buzzed as I sorted the mess on the counter, and my eyes literally shifted over to the suddenly brightened screen as I saw the sender.

The F Factor: So are you sure that she’s onto you because of that post? Wasn’t that the plan?

I blinked and looked away.

I mean who names someone the ‘F factor’? It sounded so… sinister. Not to mention, slightly crude.

It buzzed again.

And before you call me a creep and a nosy housewife with nothing better to do, let me just explain that I really never did this.

Let me make it clear. I never spied on peoples phones before.

Kinky texts or coded messages weren’t my thing anymore than pumpkin spice latte but with the second message coming in literally seconds after the first, my eyes already glided over again and I couldn’t help but suck my breath in as the next message came in.

The F Factor: Better question. After everything you said… you think Mos is onto me?

I stared at the phone for around three seconds before it registered.

Oh my goodness. I had just seen something that I wasn’t supposed to see.

Correction: I had just seen something that involved someone I cared about, that I wasn’t supposed to see.

I had witnessed something that was supposed to only be meant for Rabia’s eyes, and in that it was almost like I had incriminated her of something I never thought she would be capable of.

I glanced at my sister-in-law, oblivious to my findings, quickly scooping up the packets of edible decor before I moved along on the counter, my heart beating like never before as I recalled the message in my mind.

What in the world did it mean? It was obvious that Rabia was talking to someone about Mohsina but what wasn’t so obvious was what her whole motive behind this was. Was she trying to help Mohsina or was she trying to make things worse? The whole exchange earlier was definitely something but the bigger question was, who on earth was this ‘F factor’ person who she was feeding all this information to? I had only seen two messages but it was obvious that there was a lot more than just those two.

I couldn’t quite believe that Rabia actually had in in her to sabotage someone’s marriage and life but looking at her lately, I wasn’t quite sure anymore. It felt like the only thing that mattered to her was her social media feed and all the posts she hankered after to impress people.

Family, relationships and actual people in her life meant nothing to her. I could feel myself shaking with anger as I registered all that, feeling like I was about to explode any second with fury.

And just when I felt like I was about to boil over, and shoot questions at her like never before, when I realised that there was no way I could do that. There was no way I could confront her.

And okay. Maybe I was scared, but come on. Hear me out. This was Rabia we were talking about. At the mention of anything even remotely incriminating, she would probably hate me like never before.

I had to think about this. Really carefully. I mean, I just saw one sinister message – okay two- that could mean that this entire thing is a huge set up for Hamzah and Mohsina’s marriage to fail, but I couldn’t just jump to conclusions. As much as my gut was telling me that it was highly likely, my brain was telling me to lower the accusations down a notch before jumping to conclusions.

I had to get my ducks in a row. It was possible that I had a lot more than just baking some fairy cakes this week… and it was highly possible that Rabia was not going to like what all this would expose…

---

Sunnah of the month of Rajab 

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 Hearts Open

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 51

I remember once hearing a beautiful narration of the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) that went like this:

The heart is between two fingers of power of Rahman (All-Merciful), and He turns it as He wishes.” (Muslim, Qadar 3)

And for me, during that period of my life when I felt myself constantly grappling with the changes, it was only true that my heart itself, was undergoing a whole host of them, that at times it felt like it was bursting.

And along with everything else, as the feelings of ‘love’ entered the mix, I could only claim to be caught completely off guard because I now saw everything with a new eye.

See, the thing is, some people find spirituality without much effort, whilst others keep searching. And sometimes hearts remain sealed and unyielding, not even awakening at the most earth-shattering of jolts, not ever realising that one significant piece that’s missing from their world.

For me, I had been too consumed with the fear of being ‘holy’, to ever open my heart. But as I learnt to rid my heart of its rigidity, and to soften it, I realised that it is only that heart, which allows its Rabb to enter, that will truly ‘love’.

And not just any love, but a love that truly opens … a love that is a purist kind of love that brings about calm—not inner torment. Real love, as Allah intended it, is not a sickness or an addiction.

Real love, the true type… is affection and mercy. It is complete and unwanting. It is open and free.

And that’s where I had got it wrong in the past. With my past self, love had made me a slave to myself. To my own desires. That false love had unleashed my desires, blinded my heart and broke my faith. The love I knew, had taken me away from Allah.

But in this new love that I was learning about, as I struggled with my mushaf recitation, sitting on the carpet in Hamzah’s bedroom in his parents house… I couldn’t help but process at how much closer to Allah this journey was taking me.

All I knew was that I wanted Allah to be happy with me, but somehow, from time to time it felt as if was this huge barrier that was with me as my Nafs, and I was trying so badly to conquer it…

”What’s wrong?”

And of course, he would ask, as he walked into the room from his slightly shortened day at the office, having taken early leave every day just for this week.

And there I was, sitting cross-legged, hands now tucked under my thighs because I couldn’t help but want to fiddle with anything in the vicinity if they weren’t, rocking furiously and looking as frustrated as hell. His room was cleaned spotless as a result of my restlessness, and his clothes were all neatly organized in his cupboard. I had been doing everything else, trying to find ways to escape idle mind that I could not seem to focus properly.

”I can’t do this,” I complained with utter desolation, as I gently closed it. “I feel like I’m failing. Just failing. I can’t even get this one thing right. I’m too old.”

Hamzah’s eyes immediately softened, as he watched me looking utterly distraught, and then glanced over at a stirring Zaid on the bed, before he came toward me, whilst he took off his shoes.

“You’re not too old,” he said softly with a slight smirk, lifting his kurta and sitting next to me, tucking his legs under him. “Unless you’ve forgotten who I am.”

The joke had lost its effect as I scowled at him.

”I feel like it up here,” I said, tapping on my head. Why didn’t I think of doing Hifdh earlier in my life?

“Listen,” he said comfortingly. “You’ve only just started. That’s how it is. Be patient. It takes some time.”

”Yes, but you know how I am,” I whined, getting annoyed even at my own voice. “Everything’s come easily to me in the past. If I can’t get this the first time then I’m just useless.”

“You’re not.”

“I am.”

“Open it. I’ll teach you.”

I looked at him, sceptically, raising my eyebrows.

“How will you do that?” I asked suspiciously, and watching as Zaid sucked his dummy a little more vigorously now, hoping he didn’t wake just yet. I still had a few lines left to achieve, and maybe Hamzah’s motivation was just what I needed.

“Can I show you?” he asked suddenly, not even waiting for my answer and already taking my hand with one of his hands, as he opened the Qurān with the other.

His sudden touch felt a little unnerving, but I loosened my hands as he grasped and guided my finger to the place where I had marked.
Top of the third page. It felt like I was doing that part forever.

“You have to point,” he murmured, eyes focused on the page, still talking quietly as he moved my finger along the top line. “Point, look, read aloud… and of course, listen. We used to say that doing that once is like reading it thrice otherwise. It’s one of the most effective Hifdh hacks, if you could even call it that.”

He concealed a smile as I glanced him from the side, also very aware of how his hand over mine was now making me feel strangely aware of his proximity, even though I knew that he wasn’t doing it to make me nervous. Or maybe he was.

Maybe he wanted me to take my work more seriously too.

He looked at the page briefly, watching me now as he pronounced the first ayah with perfect Tajweed and made me repeat after him.

Once, twice. A third time, then the next ayah.

I did it a few times, repeatedly, before I slid my hand out from under his, not sure if the whole lesson was just making me a bit nervous or if his whole husband slash teacher demeanor was a little more intimidating than he knew.

“I think we done for the day,” I said lightly, feeling my brain shutting down and closing the Qurān as he smiled at me. “I’ll go over it before I sleep. 10 times, nuh?”

He nodded and I grinned comically.

Why is it that I could sit for hours in front of a screen but a half hour of Quran made me tired?

Harami was not even the word for people like me.

”I think you need to help me,” I said, only realising now what a huge difference it made, having someone who loved Quran, to help you love it too. Someone who’s in it with you, guiding you along, helping you to be better.

It was like the ultimate kind of couple goals that I had always read about… the type that made you closer to Allah Ta’ala and lifted you to new levels of contentment, because it was only because of Him that you were aspiring so much for this kind of amazement.

“I just did,” he smirked, smiling briefly as i rolled my eyes at him.

He fixed his gaze on me for a minute silently, before talking again.

“You know… my Ustaadh once told me that  the amazing thing with the Qurān is that the more you do it… the more you read, learn and memorise… the more it opens up for you. Like a fragrant flower. Only more beautiful.”

I couldn’t help but marvel at it. The Qurān is an amazing miracle, that promises so much more than just peace and comfort in its words.

”I’m not sure if I can do it,” I said, feeling a little overwhelmed, looking at all the pages I had left: I was only on page 3 of hundreds. “It’s tough. You must have finished pretty young, right? And why did you never mention it before?”

He was looking at me, a tiny smile on his face as he fiddled with my sticky markers.

”I didn’t know that it would have impressed you,” he said, teasing me slightly as I felt myself blush a little. He didn’t know that it had been a game changer and had solely inspired my decision.  “If I knew, I would have pulled it out sooner. Anyway, I had been slacking on my dhor for some time in between. Went through a bad patch… generally. But now… it’s almost on track.”

A bad patch.

Gosh. I had continuous bad patches. More like a bad era. If only Hamzah knew half of the sketchy things I had done. I wanted to ask him more… even though he had told me once about how he didn’t take anything seriously, messed around and just didn’t care about breaking Allah’s laws.

Now may have been a good time to talk about those bad patches, that I’d been avoiding all along.

But no. Not now.

”That’s amazing,” was all I said, swallowing back my emotions and wondering if he was one of those genius people who could read from anywhere in the Qurān and know exactly where he was reading.

”You know what’s amazing?” He said, edging closer, and I looked at him questioningly.

“Me?!” I said hopefully, trying to not let my mind run away with me regarding bad patches. I had to just let it go.

“That too,” he grinned, touching my cheek lightly as he said it. His dimple faded as he continued, looking down and talking softly. “But also… I heard something amazing to the effect that went something like: There are people among you who have memorised the Quran and yet, are not of the people of Qurān.
And yet… there are people among us, who have not memorised, yet are regarded as the people of the Quran. All it is, is a matter of implementation. And the way I see it is, we need to make a choice which people we will be.

Right?”

That was seriously beautiful. And he had hit it right on the head. Even though I wasn’t a Hafidha, I was trying to be that kind of person who actually implemented but sometimes I fell so short of it that it scared me.

I looked at him, immensely impressed by his words, but also, well, quite impressed with him on the whole because he was just being kind of impressive these days and I could barely believe that this was the kind of man that he had been moulded into, after being through so much during these past months.

I was also just about to go against my own rules to let him know that exact fact, in reticent fashion, but just as I caught his intensely penetrating gaze, it was at that very moment that Zaid’s muffled murmur had just started from the bed and Rabia’s voice simultaneously sounded from outside the door, when all other idyllic thoughts were already slashed.

“Hamzah,” Rabia called loudly from the slightly ajar bedroom door. “Can I take Zaid?”

I widened my eyes, obviously not impressed any longer.

”Sorry,” Hamzah whispered, smiling sheepishly as he disengaged and shook his head.

I was wondering how long she was probably standing outside, or listening to our conversation or just snooping around.

“Where does she keep popping up from?” Hamzah muttered, and he took the words right out my mouth. Only, his version was a bit kinder, as he got up to take Zaid.

It seemed like at any given moment, Rabia was around and ready to kill a moment or get right in between us.

When I had asked Hamzah why she was here when we were supposed to have the house to ourselves for the week, he had just shrugged.

“Rabia’s had a bit of a tough time,” he said, biting his lip, looking like he didn’t want to get into it. “We don’t like to make her feel unwelcome. My parents don’t say anything much to her. She takes it a bit personally.”

Gosh, I wasn’t saying chase her out. I was just wondering why she couldn’t give us a few days alone before she decided to come here.

And I knew what it was, but trying to explain to Hamzah would be futile. Men were just daft like that. The classic old women rivalry thing was something they didn’t quite get, even when it stared them in the face. Rabia was competing for most people’s attention most of the time, and seeing me always capturing her brothers was a little more than she could bear.

And it annoyed me but I had just labelled her as the possessive type and made light of the situation. I definitely was not the type to fight for my husbands attention, even though she had tried every thing in her power to keep it from me since she arrived. With her just being in the house, Hamzah seemed to be more on edge than ever too. I supposed it was her remarks that she sometimes made and although I tried to ignore them, when she purposely asked questions about Hammonds or my Instagram profile in front of Hamzah, I couldn’t help but want to ring her neck.

The the thing was, after my marriage announcement, upon Hamzah’s request, I had made a resolution to be better. I had been trying very hard to keep myself out of peoples feeds and direct messages, and not worry about all the futile things they posted. It meant staying off social media and minding my own business, even when everyone else wanted the low-down on my entire life. Maybe Rabia was snooping for info about people, or trying to find faults, but I wasn’t going to give in, and neither was I going to back down and let her get her way at home either.

I mean, I didn’t understand what was her deal with Hamzah anyway. I was his wife. She was his twin sister. We both had our respective places in his life. The woman seemed a little crazy to me.

And now too, as she walked in the room with no invitation. I mean, what if I was completely indecent?

I breathed out heftily, not exactly concealing my annoyance. My patience, at that point, was almost non-existent.

“Okay, but wait a minute,” Hamzah called to her, making her backtrack as he gave her a look that said that she was crossing boundaries by not even knocking.

He had just got up to fetch Zaid from the bed and plant a kiss on his head, when she then knocked on the door.

”Can I come in?” Rabia asked sweetly, and though I rolled my eyes, I made sure that Hamzah didn’t notice it.

I took him easily from Hamzah, nodding briefly at her as she plopped herself on the single couch, grabbing a spare nappy and his half full bottle that lay next to the bed.

Hamzah didn’t do the nappy thing. He did most other things, but nappies was something that he usually steered clear off. And though it annoyed me sometimes, after all Nani’s and my mothers lectures about husbands and wives knowing their role in the house, I kind of gave him a break.

I was almost an expert at changing anyway and he sat quietly for once as I undid his nappy, watching as Hamzah leant over him to distract him, as Zaid looked unhappily back at him, moaning slightly, on the verge of tears. And I should have noticed straight away.

And it was unusual for him not to jump for Hamzah, because he was his ultimate favourite, but it was only as I opened his nappy and felt his body temperature against my fingertips that I realised that something was very wrong.

He was burning hot. All over. The child definitely had a fever and I was so stupid to not realise that the heat I had felt earlier wasn’t just induced from his 45 minute nap.

”Hamzah,” I said, looking at my husband as he sprawled on the bed now with his phone, me picking Zaid up immediately, panicking slightly. “Feel him. He’s got a fever. Right?”

Hamzah had already hopped over and was already touching him on his forehead, and Rabia, who had been sitting and waiting on the couch had already kneeled over to investigate as Zaid suddenly seemed like he couldn’t bear to keep it in any longer, and just let out a full on howl.

Hamzah’s concerned expression already got me worried, and I wanted to cry as I tried to unsuccessfully pacify him too.

Poor Zaidoo was now suddenly sobbing uncontrollably, and my own heart just felt like it was caving in as I watched him.

Oh my word, I was starting to tear too. How do mothers even deal when their kids are in pain? 

“You want to give him something?” Hamzah asked, looking at me worriedly, a lump forming on my throat. “I think there’s Panado in the bag. And I remember Liyaket once saying something about suppositions or whatever.”

Suppositories. They were for fever. Layyanah also told me about them once.

We were first time parents with a first time sick baby. He never had fever before, and the thought of anything happening to him was scaring us both. They way he was bawling made me feel utterly helpless too.

“Let’s take him to a doctor,” I said decidedly, googling on my phone, trying to stay calm. “His paed is not far from here. “

“Maybe we can give him some medication in the interim,” Hamzah suggested, pulling the nappy bag towards us. “And then see what the doctor says.”

“Good idea,” Rabia said, also looking a looking extremely worried as he opened the bag and dug inside.

Layyanah had always kept everything packed carefully and organised, and I tried to keep it that way. Although I had restocked and bought a few new things, her maternal touch was still very present. Sometimes I felt slightly grieved, when I thought of a day when Zaid may not be able to have any evidence of his mother. It was fading so fast.

I was beyond myself at that moment, holding him closer to me as Rabia offered to take him. I didn’t want to let him go but knowing I had to get ready, I handed him over and speedily pulled on an Abaya. Rabia herself looked helpless, even as she held Zaid and we hastily popped some Panado syrup down his throat with the syringe, expecting a small fuss and a host of erratic tears that seemed to evidently be stemmed by some sort of pain.

All I knew was that I was glad to have an extra hand while Hamzah fetched his keys, and it was a whirlwind of craziness as we drove, hoping to make it before the doctor left his rooms, worried, like parents should be, and extremely anxious about what could be wrong with him.

I had dozens of possibilities, of course. My mind was working in overdrive as I wondered if he had maybe gotten a bad virus or infection wondering if maybe it was something a little more serious.

As the tears ceased and he quitened down in the car, Zaids little body was limp and exhausted, as I held him to me, willing myself not to cry due to his very obvious discomfort.

And it took a good 20 minutes or so, but finally, the fever seemed to be subsiding and I could see him looking a little more at peace.

We were glad that because it was toward the end of the day, the doctors room was a little emptier than it usually was. There were two other mothers with their kids there and they smiled at me as we arrived, probably noticing my anxiety, and as the one was called in, I could see Hamzah too, visibly relaxing. He was the more relaxed one of the two of us, and as I held a sleeping Zaid, he quickly took the forms that secretary handed us to update.

The thing was, besides not being prepared for all of this parenting stuff, we weren’t quite prepared for the emotions either. It was obvious that Hamzah was a little jolted as he stared at the forms, Liyaket’s handwriting still on them, and because we had worked together, I too, recognised it immediately.

It was something like a knife being pulled out slowly, the pain gradual yet still present, and my eyes immediately moved to his face as I watched him study it for a few seconds, and then looked up at me, his expression riddled with emotion; still contemplating whether he could actually strike it all off. It just seemed so wrong. Once upon a time, Liyaket had probably filled in those forms, with so much of paternal hope. It felt like we were erasing them from Zaid’s life, bit by bit.

I held back tears and looked away, not able to imagine what he was feeling at that point. All I knew was that here we were, still figuring this whole thing out, and I still wasn’t sure if I was even doing anything right.

And as we pulled ourselves together, we had asked for a new form and filled in new details, placing it on top of Liyaket’s one, just before getting called in. Yes, we had shoved emotion away but I couldn’t help but feel the heaviness that this whole situation had brought.

We hadn’t even been back to their place to sort out their stuff. I had gone briefly with Jameela and Liyaket’s mother to get some clothes and essentials for Zaid, but I had gone straight into Zaid’s room and out again. It felt almost intrusive, to hover around and dissect Layyanah’s things.
I knew that I had to, at some point it would happen… sooner or later… being faced with tangible evidence of Liyaket and Layyanah but being there, right then, just felt like the weight of the world was coming down on us.

For the first time since this happened, the gravity of the situation was almost unbearable. As much as we both loved Zaid, we could not even dream of ever not letting him know how amazing his parents once were, and it was at that moment that I realised that we had really huge shoes to fill and I was barely able to comprehend the thought.

Right then, I just felt responsible and completely consumed by worry about Zaid. My heart had been filled to the brim with this little guy, and I could not bear to see him in pain.

Getting into the doctors room though, minutes later, was a huge relief. It brought a little bit of lightness to the gloomy atmosphere.

The paediatrician was a tall man, with an easy smile. His forehead was edged with salt and pepper hair and his glasses sat at the bridge of his nose. We knew he was probably going to bring Layyanah and Liyaket up. It took him a minute, as he went over the file, flipped through and then fixed his gaze on us, and I immediately recognised that look in his eyes which portrayed that he had just realised who Zaid was.

“Zaid Khan,” he said, his gaze faltering slightly as he looked at Zaid who was now subdued and almost asleep due to the medication we had dosed him with. “I tried to get hold of his guardians, but no information was available. No next of kin either. Both parents passed away in an accident about two months ago.“

It wasn’t a question, of course. Hamzah just nodded and swallowed, before he spoke. I could sense how heartbreaking this was for him.

“The adoption is being finalised,” Hamzah said briefly, concealing his feelings expertly, and the doctor nodded sympathetically.

“How is the little guy?” He asked, a little more sympathetically, glancing at Zaid and getting up, while he signaled for me to bring him to the bed. “And I’m assuming you guys are his relatives?”

“Good friends of his parents,” I said briefly, not really wanting to go into details right then. “He had a fever. He was crying so much…”

I trailed off before I started tearing again, whilst the doctor nodded and first checked his eyes and mouth and ears, and then opened him up briefly, preparing myself for the drama that would ensue when Zaid awoke. He was already stirring as the doctor checked and prodded him, and once he was done almost in record time, looked up at me and said.

“Looks like it’s just an ear infection for now,” he said almost to himself, writing something in his file as he walked back to his desk. His laptop was next to him, and I could see him frowning slightly as he looked from the file to the laptop, and then looked up at us both.

”I know this may sound a bit awkward to you both,” he said, his steely eyes looking at us over his spectacles as he sat down and wrote out the script, and then looked directly at me. “But are you open to attempting breastfeeding?”

I widened my eyes at him momentarily, not actually aware of the shock on my face, until his mouth lifted slightly at the corners.

I mean, I know he was a doctor. A proper paediatrician too. They spoke openly about things like this and how good it was for babies and of course, I knew that breastfeeding was important but I mean, how did he even expect me to think of that?

“Just a suggestion,” he said apologetically, glancing at Hamzah whose head was down and arms were over the chair back as he stared at a spot on the carpet for the last minute or so, looking very uncomfortable indeed. “You guys can discuss it, of course.”

Of course, I wanted to laugh but I knew it would just make me look immature so I stifled a smile and said, a little stiffly:

“I didn’t know that was possible. We actually haven’t even thought about it.”

Which was true, because we hadn’t. There was just so much that was going on that we didn’t even give it a single thought. Come to think of it, the endless formula battles might have been over if I had. How clueless was I about babies?!

”Well then, I think it may be time that you do,” he said, looking at me. “Of course, there are pills or injections you will have to take, some side effects, it may take about two months or even less to get a supply… but I always tell the mums, it’s the sacrifice you make for your child… but also, the best gift you can ever give them.”

Besides the immense benefits of breastfeeding, I didn’t even think that this was the one step that would transform him into the closest thing to my real son. I was still standing, with Zaid in my arms, as I digested this.

If you had asked me this a year or 6 months ago, I would have never agreed to this. I supposed when the hearts open, even the most impossible things can seem entirely likely.

I nodded, the idea growing on me, wanting to ask more questions. My heart was now even more inclined to it, as I realised how much it could benefit him.

What kind of pills? And how do I start? The whole thing was still kind of freaking me out -maybe just as much as it was Hamzah- but as my mind opened to the idea, the doctor wasn’t yet done with what he was saying.

“Also, I just recalled the reason why I was looking for his guardians,” the doctor said, shaking his head, looking at Hamzah now again, almost as if he couldn’t believe he hadn’t followed up the process. “The infection isn’t bad, thankfully. But before we get into that, I need you both to take a seat. There’s something about Zaid you need to know.”

---

Dearest Readers,

Hope everyone enjoyed the extra long post. ❤️

Quick one: any thoughts or experiences with regard to breastfeeding with adoption… I’ve heard of some siblings even feeding each other’s kids, so their kids are mahrams for each other… good to hear personal experiences 💕

Always appreciate the feedback

Much Love

A xx

Mission Sunnah Revival

Concealing the faults of others:

Whoever conceals [the faults of] a Muslim, Allah will conceal [his faults] in this life and the Hereafter.”

The matter of concealing the faults of others is mentioned in numerous hadith of the Prophet, peace and blessings of Allah be upon him. In particular, we find the following:

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

 

Desperate Mistakes

Apologies for the confusion. Am re-publishing the post since the notifications haven’t worked. Happy reading 🤍

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Sometimes its easier not to reply. To not read those messages. Not to read into someone’s words. Not to have to explain to anyone. Not to blame ourselves, our timing or our lives.

But maybe it’s not so easy when you know some things could have been avoided. That you could have made it right, before you did it all wrong. That you wouldn’t have regretted, if you had just not made that mistake.

And as it turns out, sometimes you have to do the wrong thing. To falter. Sometimes you have to make a big mistake to figure out how to make things right. Mistakes are painful, but they’re the only way to find out how to make yourself better. Sometimes you have to err to become a better version of you. To repent. To return. And to find your way back to the beginning, to Allah, and to where you need to be to start all over again.

And okay, I know that my mistakes may have been a little stupid. There had been so many over a short period of time, and sometimes when I looked back I wondered if I had been sucked into some kind of Bermuda Triangle that was draining me of all common sense. Maybe I was a little over confident of my ability to be the kind of die-hard that I usually was. In normal situations, I was as solid as a rock, but when emotions were involved, I wasn’t quite sure how to draw barriers.

It had been a hectic day that was going to be a start to a rocky few months. When Layyanah had introduced me to her mother, I completely got why she wanted me to be there.

There we were, waiting nervously and in a bit of a frenzy as we worried about whether she would eat or not, whether she would stay for long or not, what to tell Liyaket or not, and all up in arms about how to deal with the situation that had kind of come out of the blue.

Firstly, the woman came in a Rolls Royce. (Can you believe it?) Her long hair was flying in the wind, and she wore a white slinky white suit, with huge sunglasses and high heels. She honestly looked like she stepped out of a Kardashian episode and I’m not even kidding. To tell the truth, aesthetically, the woman looked absolutely perfect, and even though she was probably in her 40’s, every guy who she walked past turned to look because she was that much of a show stopper.

But as she walked towards me and I greeted her Bruegel, there was something in her eyes that I couldn’t quite figure out. Yes, she was a beautiful woman but inside, under all those layers of expnsive perfume and make-up, I had myself wondering if she was really and truly happy. Somehow, when I looked through her, she resembled a shell of a person walking around.

She spoke informally, almost as if she was putting on a show. Her voice was a little higher-pitched than necessary and now that I could see her up-close, her eyelashes looked so layered that I wondered if they would fall off.

”So how’s married life, love?”

She smirked as she watched Layyanah after air kissing her on both sides of her cheeks, and then eyeing me out with a wink.

“At least I can say that my daughter married a C.A,” she said, shrugging and looking at me. Her accent was emphatic and put-on. Actually, it was more of a put-off. “Problem is, I don’t even have any snaps to show for it. I hope you took some decent wedding pictures at least, Layyanah. I have to show the girls that you didn’t get married in an Abaya. I mean, the dress is not Dior but I suppose it will do.”

Layyanah shook her head as her mother coaxed her to smile, and Liyaket sat obediently toward the back of the room, looking anxious to make an exit. His introduction had been brief and awkward, and I completely got why.

”Fay, please don’t take any pictures for Instagram,” Layyanah requested.

Fay? She called her mother Fay?!

Her mother waved her hand indifferently.

”It’s just a little bridal glamour,” she said, not looking at me yet. Of course, I was just the non-existent friends. I was grateful she didn’t know any more. “Stop having a heart attack.”

Layyanah pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes.

“Anyway, this place is so quaint!” Fay cooed, flipping her long hair and sitting back again as she put her phone down. “Not exactly my style, you know, but I suppose you can’t have no money and still have the best. You do know that, don’t you, hunny?”

Layyanah was silent. Liyaket excused himslef now, knowing that there really was nothing else for him to do after he showed himself for all of two minutes. If I was him, I would have done the exact same. Why should he stick around for the name-bashing?

Fay seemed completely oblivious.

“You know, I was telling your father,” she said excitedly. “Our anniversary is coming up and I’m itching to plan a function, love. Back then, our wedding was so basic. Better than this though, and it was cute and stuff, but not tasteful, you know? These functions I see online… They’re exquisite! Of course, we will have to see whats trending in three months time and I’m following all the right decor pages for tips. Okay, so maybe I had a 1000 people and a five course meal but now it’s fine up to seven courses and everything is individually plated. Let’s not forget the hand-made personalised favours that they’re giving guests that are something else completely. A dream wedding,  Layy, if only you just listened to us we could have given you everything you wanted…”

I kind of wanted to duck away but I couldn’t. It was just too sensitive.

“Everything I wanted?!” Layyanah cut in, raising her eyebrows. “Oh please Fay, it was everything you wanted. I was just going with the flow because there would have been a big performance if I didn’t agree!”

Woah. I didn’t realise that Layyanah could be so edgy, even to her own mother. I mean, it was still her mother, right? Surely there had to be some barriers there.

Her mother was unruffled. She looked like she was used to this.

”Layyanah darling,” she said. “You’re my daughter, I know exactly what you like.”

She said it so naturally and Layyanah was buying none of it.

“You have no idea!” Layyanah spat, her eyes flashing angrily. “All you want to do is waste money on stupid junk that no-one even cares about! And Daddy is even more stupid because he just dishes out to you as you want. Let’s just spend money on temporary dumb things even though people are starving in the world. You know why you guys are perfect together?! You both have no sense and no bloody conscience and I cant believe you still want to waste money on more bloody extravagance!”

Oh-Kay.

I was stunned into shock because Layyanah didn’t use the word ‘bloody’. She used another more vicious word that I only heard in some Netflix series. I was only grateful that Liyaket was gone so he didn’t see this side of her. He might have been a bit scarred.

And I completely got her point, but as I watched them go back and forth I realized that this whole dynamic was all skewed, and it kind of scared me.

Instead of Layyanah being petrified of her mother and the consequences (like I was at any given moment when my mother was around), she treated her like one of her casual friends. She spoke to her like she would speak to any girl from the office, maybe even a little looser. She even addressed her haphazardly by a nickname, with no respect. And the thing was, I was no expert on parenting and it was a far off notion for me (duh!), but I could see exactly where the problem was.

Some parents confuse parenting with being friendly, but they forget the most important thing.

Anyone can be a friend, but parents have a unique and important role that involves them ‘parenting’ first.  And yes, it was all Layyanah, my friend, but the fact was that Layyanah behaved this way because her parents never drew any boundaries. Speaking your mind was disrespectful when you spoke however you liked. Assertiveness is only okay when you don’t trample the rights of others. Especially your parents. The thing was, nowadays, bringing honour to those who brought you up was no longer a thing. Where once Muslim kids were admired for their manners, nowadays, they aren’t. Nowadays, they just gave crap and then recieved more in return.

Jibraeel (AS) said, “Inform me about the Hour.” He (the Prophet)(sallahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) said, “About that the one questioned knows no more than the questioner.” So, he said, “Well, inform me about its signs.” He said, “They are that the slave-girl will give birth to her mistress…”

Sahih Muslim (8)

And that was exactly what it looked like. Like a slave who was just being subjecting to whatever Layyanah was dishing out. She was giving it to her mother, with absolutely no reproach for what she said.

And as I sat there, reeling in shock, boy, was I glad when Layyanah finally said:

”We’ve already discussed this topic fifty million times over, so can we just drop it?!”

Layyanah was looking at her mother now, and I could see she that she had calmed down, which hopefully meant that the no more language and profanity were on the cards. Her mother shrugged and turned to me, and at that moment, I felt a teeny bit of sympathy for her. Just for a milli-second, and then it was gone.

The thing was, unfortunately,  there was no respect from either side, or even any kind of mothering. She didn’t offer her any useful advice or tell her how to take care of her husband, like I know my mother would do. She didn’t even give her any Duáas, like any normnal parent would.

Honestly, now all Layyanah looked like was defeated and teary and like she needed was a shoulder to lean on and someone talk to. Here her mother was, all focused on how to spend more money and be more extravagant.

I wasn’t even sure what to say, but Fay just gave an exasperated sigh and then turned to me, all smiles.

Oh gosh, was it my turn next?

“Why do I feel like I know you?” She asked, and my heart skipped a beat in my chest as she said it.

There we go. Probably from the photos that they sent the hitman.

I smiled sweetly, sticking out my hand, business style. Layyanah had introduced us briefly but not formally.

“I’m Mohsina,” I said pleasantly. I was used to putting on a front. “I’m a CA at Hammonds. Layy and I worked together.”

Well, that kind of impressed her, but she looked at me quizzically, and then suddenly, her eyes lit up,

“Oh my word,” she mused, her eyes getting wider. “Your’re the Mostly Mohsina, aren’t you?! Hey, I know you! Like I really know you! How’s your mother? And your sister? Oh yes, I remember that time when you guys went on that family holiday to the beach house on the west coast. It looked stunning! I keep telling Layys father that we need to take a holiday locally. Like, Ras Al Khaimah always blows us away, but maybe after Dubai we’ll try something local.”

Okay, so let me explain- so in all fairness, it wasn’t exactly a family holiday. It was a holiday of family, and I wasn’t exactly lying but social media was a tough world. It was just the wording that mattered. My father had gone with my mother and sister to visit some of his family at a beautiful villa, and the pictures were magically stunning. Private beaches and heated pools. The most unusual coral and white sandy shores. Of course, it was the perfect content to use for my weekend post. The thing is, you had to keep coming up with content to keep people interested. Don’t hate the player. That was the game.

“I feel like I’m your best friend,” she went on, clasping my hand and gazing at me in admiration. “And you’re like an influencer, right? Ive been following you for two years now and I lurrvv your feed!”

And of course, I was feeling all chuffed and excited that all my hard work wasn’t going to waste. I mean, that’s what it was all about right? Making an impression. Making sure that people remember you for all the fancy and unique things you post. It’s not about reality. No ways. It was a world that was as far away from reality than anything.

I just couldn’t understand why I was feeling so far from that world right then. it was like I had been disconnected from it, even if it was just for this little while.

And I was still trying to process my feelings while Layyanah tried to offer her mother something, but she was already talking about leaving because she didn’t want Layyanahs father to find out where she was.

I mean, even though she was superficial and extremely caught up, she was still a mother, and that’s why she had come.

And as my brain was still processing this very strange relationship, out of the blue, Jameela suddenly knocked on the door, excusing herslef and then knelt down next to me. Of course, Layyanahs mother seemed thrilled to see her, because she was my sister. I had a feeling like she felt that she really did know me, even when I had never met her before in real life. And okay, it was a teeny bit freaky. Jameela was looking confused as her mother gushed over her, and then she turned to me as her focus changed, kneeling down slightly, close to my ear.

“We need to leave,” Jameela said, her voice sounding a little more hysteric than usual. “Like right now.”

I turned to look at my sister, excusing myself from Layyanah as I noticed the panicked look on jameelas face. We did need to leave. The wind was starting to pick up significantly.

“What’s going on?” I hissed at her, pulling her away from the them as I excused myself and moved into a corner.

”We just have to leave,” she muttered, keeping her voice low. “I’ll explain later.”

“Where’s Muhammed Husayn?”

She shrugged.

“Someone said the shed at the front of the plot,” she said, not seeming too worried. “I tried looking for him, but as usual, I can’t find him and now I’m going to the car. I don’t care anymore! Let him stay here!”

Oh hell, now my brother was gone awol. He had probably got that guy to show him something old and historical and went to explore. Weird child. Typical teenager. Inconsiderate. As usual, I had to pick up the pieces because Jameela was pretty useless at everything besides planning coffee shops and wasting money.

I told Layyanah I’d see her soon, and even though her mother was leaving too, she held on to me a little longer than necessary, sounding both nervous and excited at that same time, as I left them to say their goodbyes.

And I was all excited and optimistic for my friend and this new chapter of her life, but I was also aware that it could also turn out horribly if she didn’t watch her back.

And if it all turned out okay, I would be eternally grateful. But for now, I had bigger things to sort out, like getting home.  I was all out for soaking up the sunset but my parents were already freaking out about us being home after dark and I knew it was time to leave.

And after heading off for the shed to look for my brother, my entire purpose in life was disrupted. All I did was follow the instructions and go toward the front of the plot (If I knew where that was). The problem was, it was so huge and vast, that instead of it being a short drive, it ended up being a half hour route on foot that brought me right back to where I started. I was positively fuming, wondering why the hell Muhammed Husayn was so irresponsible, when all I had to do was ask someone for help that I so desperately needed.

There were many things that may have been a cause, and set me off track. I was soaking in my glory, all chuffed by the recognition of my Instagram page that was apparently amazing (according to Fay), and probably set me off on a wrong foot from the beginning. Jameela was going bezerk on me because she was intent on leaving and I was getting all sorts of panicked because it was nearly Asr time and I knew that if I didn’t hurry up, timing in getting home would be a disaster. To top it off, there had been a cloud burst and I was all soaked and shivering to the extent that I was actually regretting even coming here on the first place.

And yes, I must have looked an utter state. And it was no wonder that I emerged all wet and terrrifying as I trudged up the bank to where my car was parked. I could see Hamzah in the distance but I wasn’t going to risk it the whole conversation out of work thing, especially when I looked like this. I wouldn’t have done it in any circumstance, and besides, it was against every rule of decency I had ever known.

And although I desperately tried to block my face, luck was just on my side that day. And no, I didn’t want to pass all the blame over, but I would have just walked straight ahead and tried calling Husayn for the 15th time that hour, but I was also tired and hungry and I just wanted to go home.

See, I knew about barriers. Walls. I always had them up. I was extra careful, especially  after Nani had been on my back about having too much of freedom. I took these things seriously. Yes, I wasn’t the best and I spoke where necessary, but I wasn’t that type. I wasn’t the type to just fall into traps. I was the type to avoid them all, but this one, I didn’t even see coming.

“Hey,” he said briefly, obviously noticing my strained face that I was desperately trying to hide. Yes, it was only Hamzah but I looked like a disheveled rag doll.

I expected some remark about Snapchat or Facebook as he watched me busy on my phone, trying to call my brother desperately, only to get no answer, but he didn’t have that usual attitude that he did at work. He looked calmer. Easy. Maybe the air here had smothered his annoying tendencies.

Or maybe he was probably just feeling sorry for me because I looked like a shipwreck.

”It’s okay,” I said, trying to appear composed when I wanted to cry. He actually looked like a completely foreign person now, in a dark kurta and slightly styled hair. At least someone here was looking normal. “I’m okay.”

He nodded, and then narrowed his eyes.

”You don’t look okay,” he said, and I looked at him. His eyebrows were raised questioningly. “You sure everything is okay? Is Lesley still around?”

“Lesley’s fine,” I snapped, a little faster than I intended. Of course I didn’t look fine. I had just been attacked violently by torrents of rain. Why did he have to rub it in?

Also, why did he have to bring Lesley into this? She was already on her prepaid Uber back home, and it was so unfair. All I wanted to do was find my brother and go home too.

And of course, now Hamzah was looking at me like I was some kind of kuku case. But honestly, there really was more to life than Lesley. And yes, I didn’t resent her, but I think I had enough of her for the entire week. The girl had really tested me that day.

He held his hands up, and I could immediately see that weird look in his eyes again.

“I was just checking,” he said defensively, but his voice didn’t sound like him. Well, not like the usual him. “I’m glad you sorted it out. See you.”

And I should’ve left it at that. I mean, there was no real harm done. But now I was feeling bad.

Why, I didn’t know.

And that was mistake number two.

Because no matter what, feelings and regret and whatever else was brewing, I knew that it wasn’t worth the risk of falling into sin. But sometimes, we’re just weak. Sometimes our minds are screaming for us to be a little rational, but our hearts are pulling us the complete opposite way.

No, it wasn’t okay. And yes, it had happened before. Being alone with him, even here in the open, even if I needed help. This wasn’t the same as it was before.

It was a desperate measure. Maybe a mistake that I didn’t even think much of, but would cost us so much more than I could ever imagine at the time.

”I’m sorry,” I called out, blowing my nose, because it was all snotty and runny due to the crazy weather and helluva emotions. His back was still to me as he paused, but didn’t turn around.

“Hamzah, wait. I need your help.”

---

Dear Readers,

Just a quick one to say that I always look forward to your comments. Any thoughts on Layyanah and what she may be getting into?

Always appreciate the input, it definitely gets the creative juices flowing. 🤍

much Love

A xx

Mission Sunnah Revival: the beautiful Sunnah of eating and licking fingers.

بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم

١٥ ربيع الأول ١٤٤٣
15th Rabee’ul Awwal 1443 – South Africa

22nd October 2021
Friday

رسول الله صلى الله تعالى عليه وسلم said:
If the morsel of any one of you fall, then he should pick it up, thereafter remove any dirt etc on it, and eat it. And he should not leave it (morsel), for satan.
And he should not wipe his hand, with a cloth, until he lick his fingers, for verily he doesn’t know, in which portion of his food, is the blessing (Barakah)

(Muslim Shareef)

If a morsel fall down, then we must not regard it as, reprehensible.
There’s great reward in picking up a morsel and eating it, regarding it a Sunnah.
If it’s not possible to eat it, then place it in such a place, where some animal can eat it.j

When Duty Calls

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khalid

Sunrises. There’s just something about them that just makes you want to dive in and start all over again. Afresh. Anew. It’s a feeling deeper than gratification. It’s a deeper sense of appreciation that makes you just… ‘feel’. It inspires. Enables hope. It awakens something within. The truth was that deep down, positive feelings are what had kept me grounded. Grateful. There was just something about a sunrise that was loyal. Committed. Every day, without fail, it wouldn’t let you down. I breathed in, savoring the familiarity of it… no matter where I was in the world, seeing it had always brought out the best in me.

Every since I was a little kid, a new beginning was the highlight of every day. Something new. Something exciting. Somehow, with the inception of a new day, I knew that there would be something promising waiting for me. And today would be no different.

I took a last swig of my water bottle as I looked out, watching the two guys in my company also completely lost in the blazing colours that were before us.

The buzzing of the airport chaos was constant in the background of our setting as we gazed out. It was as if the sky was kindling a fire of it’s own as  we saw yellow streaks beyond the mountains morph to tangerine and crimsons rays of delight. The horizon was slowly evolving in all its glory, and from the glass window that boasted it, like an exhibition in progress, every person who passed by had to literally stop in their tracks and just stare.

We were entranced by the spectacle, the fiery ball appearing from behind a sheath of clouds, bringing with it a flood of warmth and relief from the darkness of before dawn. Like an ultimate relief brought out from an imminent doom… It was simply mind-blowing.

”It’s incredible, isn’t it?” someone said.

SubhaanAllah. Indeed it was.

The thing was, being here was unprecedented but now so much appreciated. Although my mother had loved the short trip to Jordan, Egypt hadn’t exactly gone as planned.

I cringed as I remembered it momentarily. of course, as always, family was lively and entertaining. The functions and the excitement was consuming and infectious as everyone went all out, in their usual Arab hospitality, preparing and hosting us out in their most exceptional ways. That was how I remembered it. There were so many memories there for me, but it was heartsore too, in many other ways.

And it was bound to happen at some point, because then, on out last day, tears had filled Ummi’s eyes, and I wished that I could somehow fix the pain that had been etched there. I felt a sense of duty to her through shielding her from it before, but as we drove out of the city for the last time, we had collided into a protest. The chants of hundreds of Egyptians filled the streets of Cairo and several other cities… the first such incident since years ago.

”Ums, don’t cry,” I said softly. “Just now you’ll make me start and then you know how that will end…”

”I can cry because it’s where it’s from,” she said softly. she gave a hint of a smile but her grey eyes were still brimming with tears. “The pain is not so much because I’m not staying here… but it’s not the same.”

“Of course not,” I had said, trying to be indifferent. The truth was that it was paining me too. ”Did you really expect it to be, Ums?”

I had tried to warn her before. I didn’t want to see this happen. I knew that it would trouble her. I just didn’t know how much.

“The thing is, Khalid,” she said softly. “I had imagined this place so many times in my dreams. Coming back home. Seeing everyone. Talking about this. But never… in my most vivid dreams… would I have imagined it being so far from my home. This isn’t my home.”

”One day, Ums,” I said softly, my heart breaking for her. I knew it wasn’t likely but why not give hope, right? “One day it will be.”

“Say it loud, don’t be scared, Sisi must go.”

It was crazy how things had regressed after after the Arab spring.
It had been coming for a while, but the speed with which it gained momentum had shocked me. Political turnovers, sporadic violence, and waves of repression were rife as generation of activists energized long-stagnant politics in countrywide demonstrations that ousted President Hosni Mubarak. Since then it had been somewhat of a battle, and many may argue, but the main feels out there were we that it was all for democracy.
Allah knew best. The surprising fact was that Muslims were rallying and threatening Muslims, yet still… we are still quick to call other nations our enemies. The truth, as I’d heard before… was that no one was our true enemy greater than ourselves and our sins. That was undeniably, the main cause for all the unrest. So much of unrest and bloodshed.

The bloodshed. The bloodshed was what broke my heart… but as the Ummah of Nabi (SAW), I knew that it wasn’t unexpected.

Sa’d reported: The Messenger of Allah said, “I asked my Lord for three matters. He granted me two of them, but withheld one. I asked my Lord for my nation not to be destroyed by famine, and he granted it for me. I asked my Lord for my nation not to be destroyed by drowning, and he granted it for me. I asked my Lord for there to be no bloodshed in my nation, but he withheld it from me.”

Source: Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 2890

I sighed as I looked around where I stood now, wondering if I could ever call this place home.

Coming to Qatar for a few days was never in the plan, but it was an eager diversion, even if it was for a getaway. There was something about travel that opened your mind… it made you think out of the box. From everything I’d seen and experienced, my life was now completely different to what I’d imagined. I just needed some time to adjust to the concept.

”Is it your first time in Qatar?”

I had been here between trips, like how Molvi was now, but never like how I’d come this time- with the intention to visit and view this place to settle in… to be home.

I looked at Maulana Umar and the guy who he called his brother-in-law. Another one of his crew had gone to get something to eat. Of course, I wouldn’t have ever in my wildest dreams imagined that I’d meet him at the Salaah room here but it was so good to see him because he reminded me of home. Or the place I used to call home. And I couldn’t help but be quite intrigued by the fact here we all were, united in another place that was so far from our unanimous home. Qatar had already gotten under my skin, and even though I was on my way out for now, I knew I’d be back here again.

The smoke from Ziyaad’s mouth was escaping unstoppably as he glanced at us, dropped his current cigarette into the tray and squished it, then promptly lit up another.

If anything, meeting Maulana Umar and the guys that he was with was enough to cheer me up after the ‘down in the dumps’ feeling I had after Egypt.

”Hey bru, do you ever stop?”

I could tell Maulana was joking but Ziyaad was the type of guy who always had a quirky answer for everything. And most of those times, his answers were chuckle-worthy.

“Sorry Molvi,” he said, taking a puff as he shook his head at us. “I know I need to quit but trust me, when you have Nafs like mine, you rather just stick to cigarettes.”

I grinned. He was a great guy but he cracked me up.

“You smoke, Maulana?” he asked, looking at me.

Smoking wasn’t my thing, but I wasn’t completely averse to it.

“Not really,” I said carefully. Back in the day, yes, I had smoked sometimes… in the past. But those days were over now. His face fell and I patted him on the back, feeling bad for him.

He was obviously addicted to it and who was to make him feel bad about it? Everyone had their weaknesses.

“But don’t worry,” I said promptly, winking at him. “I understand. Life’s stressful sometimes. I completely get you.”

Zee’s face immediately lit up.

”See!” He exclaimed, pointing at me and looking at Molvi Umar with a comical grin. “This guy! He’s like the coolest Maulana Dude I ever met… Was, meet Maulana Khalid.”

Dude?!

This guy was something else. I was so amused that I didn’t even notice the other guy approaching us, but as he pointed, my eyes settled on a well-built character who came toward us with a variety of chips and drinks in his hand.

Maulana Umar introduced us properly. He made me smile when he said that if I ever forgot his name I can call his Mus’ab, and of course, the name fit. Like the blue-eyed Sahaba, who was the flower of assemblies. Like the handsome youth who had wealth at his feet and gave it up for Deen. I didn’t know that this very guy was a guy who found the light amidst the throngs of darkness too.

“I’ve never met a guy named Khalid before,” Waseem said, looking thrilled as he shook my hand. “Reminds me of all those warrior stories Molvi used to tell me on our previous trips.”

I grinned. The Noble warrior. The sword of Allah. As a kid it was my only inspiration, and Ummi never ceased to thrill about the stories of Khalid Bin Waleed (RA). If only I could live up to that kind of courage. If only I could truly fulfill that kind of duty. Sometimes I felt that the older I got, the more mellow I became. Once upon a time I had that spark within me… but for a while, it had been somewhat lost…

Talking about lost, there was something about Waseem that I couldn’t place my finger on. Somehow, as we chatted easily about general things, I felt like he was strangely relatable. It was a while before I checked my watch, realizing that my family would be finished with Salaah and would be waiting for me.

”I’m going to have to leave you guys,” I said, looking at my watch and holding my hand out to greet them all. They still had a few hours before their flight. Maulana had already settled in the corner of the lounge with his Mushaf. He knew that there was no time to waste.

“No problem,” Waseem said. “but listen Maulana…when will you be heading back home? It’ll be good to see you again.”

I looked at him, not really sure if I should tell him. The truth was, I wasn’t sure where home was anymore. It felt nomadic but for some reason my heart wasn’t feeling settled in the place that I’d always sought refuge. It wasn’t settled back in South Africa.

”I haven’t really made any solid plans yet,” I said, looking them all as they waited for my answer. Maulana had put his Quran down as he cane to greet me. “I’ll take my mother back to Egypt and see from there. At the end of the day, whatever plans Allah has for me is on the cards.”

Molvi smiled and Ziyaad looked shocked.

”That means you don’t have a woman telling you what you need to do,” Ziyaad exclaimed, looking at me in admiration.

I grinned, but didn’t answer. Now wasn’t the time to get into that topic…

“Young and free, huh?” He said, looking at me with even more admiration. “Charming and good looking Molvi Dude like you, you must be having all the girls after you, nuh? I remember those days…“

He shook his head sadly and I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

”Ignore him,” his brother said, shaking his head. “Ziyaad doesn’t like to admit that his marriage is the one thing he loves more than food.”

”Heeeyy,” Ziyaad moaned, tossing the empty packet of chips in the bin. “That’s a low blow.”

Maulana Umar chuckled along with me. It was fun to see these brothers at each other.

“Don’t worry about this guy, Maulana ,” he said seriously. “When the time is right and you’re back in SA hopefully we’ll see you again. You’re brave to be out here. Taking big steps in Deen. Doing things that some of us are afraid to do.”

How did I tell him that even though I was brave on the outside, I had so many other fears.

”I’ll see you, Maulana,” I said, embracing him as he patted he on the back. “They’ll be waiting for me.”

“Jhee,” he said, nodding. “We’ll see you on the other side. Assalamu-Alaykum.”

I greeted him back, making my way back to the boarding area seats where they had been sitting. So many people, all from so many places… all headed in different places. It was something that I always loved about airports. Just sitting and watching… wondering where everyone’s story started and where they will end.

And right there, in front of me as I took a seat, was one of my favorite people. Just seeing her made me feel at home even in this foreign place.

”Missed me, habibti?” I asked, kissing her hand as I took a seat opposite her. Her gaze was focused ahead, as if there was something on her busy mind.

”You’re not moving so far away,” she said to me crossly in Arabic, as if she had been waiting for me to come back… just to argue with me again. It was a squabble she had started at the beginning of the trip, when I mentioned that I might settle here.

I smiled, knowing where this was going.

“And why not?” I asked her, still holding her hand. “You’ll be coming with me, you know.”

How I loved her. She was always cross for some reason or the other and it always made me chuckle.

”You’ll just be an immigrant here,” she muttered with a scowl. “You’re not just an immigrant. You’re better than that.”

”Says who?” I asked, raising my eyebrows. “Aren’t we all just slaves of the Almighty?”

“You can’t leave,” she insisted, ignoring me and getting angrier. “After all this time now you want to go again! No. It’s not right, Khalid. You must think about your parents.”

She was right but I felt like I was being held back. I knew they were making sense but how could I ignore a call to do this type of work? Here, where it just felt right?  What I didn’t know was that there’s a deeper sense of duty that had to call and it was about to unfold sooner than I thought.

”You know I’ll be back this time,” I tried to comfort her.

She shook her head vehemently.

“You‘ll change,” she murmured. “I know it and I don’t want it. No more… what they call this in English? Globe-trotting. Yes. You stay put. Get settled. Else I won’t be happy.”

I grinned, taking it lightly. Globe-trotting sounded so adventurous. I looked at the time, and my smile already faded.

The call for boarding was resounding through the speakers. Where was Ummi?

”Where’s Ummi?” I asked her, getting a little worried.

”She went to the pharmacy,” she replied, looking worried too as I checked my watch again.

I stood up, running my hands through my beard as I scanned the crowd.

“Wait here,” I said, picking my backpack up in case I needed it. “I’m going to check for her.”

I ran off to the pharmacy, only to return back to the bench where Ummi was already waiting. Relief flooded through me as I saw her, but as I got closer I could see the two women chatting fervently and I immediately felt a tightening in my chest. Something wasn’t right.

”What’s happened?” I asked them in Arabic. Fear gripped me as I saw Ummi’s eyes filled with tears.

“Not good news,” they both said. What now?

“Ums, tell me,” I insisted, the anticipation killing me.

”It’s your father,” she said tearfully. “He slipped in the bathroom. Broke his femur.”

Inna Lillahi. Not good but it could have been worse.

It was the one thing that had worried me when we had left him… knowing that he was alone back home. He had refused to join us… saying he was busy with work and would be fine. Papa was fiercely independent and wasn’t very old but worst thing that could happen was something like this for Ummi to rush back. There was no family close by to even offer their help.

”I’m so sorry, Khalid,” Ummi said softly. “I don’t want to ruin your plans. I know you didn’t plan on going back… not now at least.. but -“

”Ssshhh, Ummi, don’t say that,” I said to her, shaking my head and stepping forward to grasp her arm comfortingly. “It’s no ones fault. Taqdeer, huh? We’ll take a detour. It may be fun.”

“May Allah reward you, handsome,” my mother said sincerely, clearly relieved. “You’re a good boy, Khalid.”

I smiled. Ummi calling me a good boy made me feel like a child again. I had forgotten the things I missed most about her all these years.

“It’s no big deal,” I mumbled.

Maybe a change of flights and some extra expenses but I knew I couldn’t let her down . For now, I had some time to spare before I’d get on the road, choose my path and commit to it.

”What about me?”

Ah. I had forgotten. I looked at her and smiled. It was when duty was calling, and right now we didn’t really have much time to waste. The ideal thing would be to head back straight from here. There was no time to make any stops. I had to step up and be there for my father. It only made sense to take her with us.

”What you say Habibti?” I winked at her, holding my hand out to help her up. “Maybe it’s time you come and see where I grew up?”

She smiled and nodded.

“Maybe it’s time.”

---

Sunnah of Du’aa after Salaah: One of the Sunnah of asking Allah is never to be despondent of Allah’s mercy. Remember that He is always listening and waiting to answer our prayer.

Messenger of Allah said that Allah the Exalted had said: “I have divided the prayer into two halves between Me and My servant, and My servant will receive what he asks. When the servant says: Praise be to Allah, the Lord of the universe, Allah the Most High says: My servant has praised Me. And when he (the servant) says: The Most Compassionate, the Merciful, Allah the Most High says: My servant has lauded Me. And when he (the servant) says: Master of the Day of judgment, He remarks: My servant has entrusted (his affairs) to Me. And when he (the worshipper) says: You alone we worship and of You alone do we ask help, He (Allah) says: This is between Me and My servant, and My servant will receive what he asks for. Then, when he (the worshipper) says: Guide us to the straight path, the path of those to whom You has been Gracious not of those who have incurred Your displeasure, nor of those who have gone astray, He (Allah) says: This is for My servant, and My servant will receive what he asks for.” [Sahih Muslim]

Lots and lots of Duaas. Let’s focus on trying to bring Du’aa into our daily lives…

How easy to practice …

#revivetheSunnahofHonouringElders

#revivetheSunnahofGiving

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

#revivetheSunnahDuaa

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Until Tomorrow

Bismihi Ta’ala

Ahmed

My Ahmed, 

My eldest son. Second born. The apple of my eye. 

It’s your Nikah day and I’m sure you are on cloud nine right now. As I sit here on the rocker overlooking the window, I’m picturing it in my mind and I wish I could see your joy. The twinkle in your serious eyes. Maybe you’d give us a smile as you walked out the door. Maybe you’d smirk knowingly as you left home to begin your new life. Maybe just for a moment of unguarded freedom… you’d actually put your iron shield down…

It’s your moment of glory now now, and soon you’ll be embarking on a journey of your own. A journey unlike all you’ve known. A journey of life and love. A journey that will make you stronger in so many ways, yet will simmer you down in so many too.

Ahmedoo. You’ve always been my soldier. Unwavering. Unchanging. I love that most about you. Throughout my sickness I think it’s you that I’ve drawn the most strength from. You never showed me once how much it hurt.

But today, when I saw you sitting in your room, slumped over your books in grief… I wanted to tell you that I never knew that the pain was buried so deep. I never realized that even strong people could break. That even they have a empty gaps to fill.  That sometimes, it’s okay to open up your heart too.

As I pen this, with much on my mind and hope in my heart… knowing that you will read this on a day that love and joy will be overflowing… it gives me a great sense of relief. I know that this is a step you would never take until you were completely sure. I know already that there is no doubt in your mind that this is the right thing to do. 

I really hope that you have found the one. The one who leads you to the Eternal One. I hope you’ve found someone who breaks your armour. Who opens your heart. Who makes you dig to the darkest depths to explore the avenues of your soul that lead you to the Ultimate Love. I hope that, through this union, you’ve found Allah. 

There are many distractions along the way, but do remember that if we keep our focus on what’s everlasting, we can never go wrong. Remember that Allah doesn’t look at money or cars or houses. Remember that Allah looks only at one thing, and that’s a contented heart. A heart that is with Him. A heart that is at peace. Qalbun-Saleem. 

Remember that we grow through what we go though. We make mistakes. We learn our lessons, and then we find ourselves. All we need is a little patience… and lots of trust in Allah.

After everything, my son, whatever you’ve gone though… I truly hope that your heart is at rest. That you’ve found your peace. 

Please remember to make Du’aa in every moment that brings you joy. In any moment you may feel pain.  Please make a little Du’aa with your better half for me. Tell her that I would have been so thrilled that you’ve finally found her… 

Love you from the depths of my soul…

Much, much love,

Mama

A certain tranquility had overcome me as I watched my wife hold tightly onto the letter as I drove ahead… trying to relive those moments when everything felt okay. When all the pain was miles away. I was trying to transport my mind back to then. Back to when we were all thrilled and at ease with each other as we sat and spoke… really spoke… for the first time. As I got to know this woman who had become my new wife.

Till then, everything was perfect. 

”Mummy, was that Khawlah’s mother?”

I turned slightly towards Rubeena, tightening my grip on the steering as Dayyaan said it. She had her Tasbeeh counter in her hand and I could see her recording her Friday Durood as she tried hard not to say anything. I knew why.

I will still angry. So angry.

”Not her mother,” Danyaal said, and I could see him rolling his eyes in the rear view mirror. “Her stepmother. Remember her mother passed away when she was six.”

It felt like a tiny stab in my chest as he said it. That was my mother too. I was ten years old… 

”Like me!” Dayyaan said, sounding a big too thrilled about it for my liking.

I knew that I was being grumpy.
I couldn’t blame the child but my mood had become dampened due to recent events.
Aunty Nas had made an appearance and I knew exactly why she had come today.

I felt a warm hand on mine as I roughly changed the gears, forgetting for a moment that I had four kids in the car with me.

”Sorry,” I mumbled, glancing at Rubeena briefly and looking ahead. I had slowed down as we entered our first destination road. 

“It’s okay,” she said softly, squeezing my hand comfortingly. “I’m sure you must be upset…”

Upset was an understatement. I was furious.
I held my piece for a minute as the kids jumped off as their grandparents house, waving at us as we said we’d see them later.

Although Rubeena had insisted they would be fine with their grandparents for the night, I didn’t want to send them away, and I wanted her to understand. I wanted to set the tone from now. The children weren’t a burden. There was no reason to send them off just because I was there. I knew what it felt like when stepparents were shoving their step kids off and I never wanted these kids to feel that.

”Will they be okay?” I asked my wife, gesturing to the kids who were climbing up the stairs to the front door. “Must I go and see them in?”

She smiled as the door opened and they all waved, and I shifted into reverse once again.

”They’ll be okay,” she said. “They’re growing up now. Becoming so independent. Are you okay?”

I fixed my gaze ahead and shrugged as I reversed out, glancing in the rear view mirror to check for any cars.

“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it,” she said softly. “So much has happened today… that letter though. It just made my day. Your mother must have been amazing… beautiful too I’m sure…” 

My heart contracted slightly as she said it and immediately remembered my mother.

”Khawlah looks exactly like her,” I said, thinking of how Zuleikha and I fell on Abba’s side, with the olive skin tone and identical eye colour… and somehow Khawlah had nothing of Abba at all. Yunus too had his own unique look, that resembled my mother, but was somehow different to Khawlah. It was weird how genetics worked sometimes. 

I glanced at my wife, noticing her eyes filled with tears for the umpteenth time that day and I couldn’t help but grin. She was really something. Different to girls in my family. I had never experienced this before, but I found it quite amusing. I couldn’t believe that she had actually bawled when I showed her the letter. I found it strangely touching, even for a tough guy like me.

And yes, I  had almost forgotten about the letter. Almost. Thinking about it again now calmed me down. How Dada, in his old age had remembered to hand it to me today was beyond me. My mother obviously had a reason that she entrusted him with them. And then of course, Aunty Nas had barged in on us to dampen everyone’s spirits. 

If she wasn’t strutting around looking for attention, she was screaming her head off at something that had disgruntled her. I actually couldn’t believe that Abba had put up with her as long as he did. I couldn’t believe that we all did. I couldn’t believe that I did. I shuddered slightly as I remembered her eery voice. Somehow, in retrospect it was even scarier than it was at the time…

“Ahmed.” She had took me aside one day and looked me in the eye. Her tone was kinder than usual. I narrowed my eyes at her, skeptical of her intentions. “I can read your eyes…. You have a lot of anger….”

I looked at her as if she was crazy. She was crazy. There was no doubt about it. Evil too. Of course I was angry. But what did she know about my anger? What did she know about me?

“There’s something I learnt in class today that I know will help you,” she said convincingly. “It’s good. Really good.”

I shook my head and shrugged her off, her determined not to get involved in her crazy ambitions. I didn’t know that she had been attending those arb ‘emotional healing classes’ and I wasn’t sure where she was coming from. When I looked back, it was when I realized that this was the precise time when Aunty Nas was starting to change.

And I got why she targeted me. I was a rough kid. Troubled. I knew I gave Abba a hard time. Everyone had said that I needed therapy. I was a problem. Eventually, I gave in. I had little choice. I thought if she focused on me she’d leave my sisters alone. She wanted to teach me about her new techniques. She said I could be her assistant, and earn money. Money had always been a draw-card for me.

Yes, and I didn’t realize what I was getting into. She asked me things that no-one had ventured into. She had a way of making it seem like meager small talk, as she spoke. She delved into the past and said it will heal me. She had done various physical adjustments on my body, but right then, I knew nothing about boundaries. As a young kid who was on the brink of adolescence, what Abba didn’t realize was that Aunty Nas was a bit crazier than he had perceived.

And yes, I was all for giving people a chance and believing they could change, but to prove she hadn’t, she had barged into the house that evening, demanding to know why Khawlah had interfered in her daughters life, and promising to get her back for it. I knew why she had come here today. I knew that she wanted to stir things up… maybe even spoil my day. But was more confusing was her obsession with my new mother-in-law that no-one could figure out. The two seemed have some recent clashes, but never in a good way.

”Ahmed, are you listening?” 

I blinked and looked at Rubeena,  realizing that I had zoned out. I nodded guiltily. I was still lost in the past. I wanted to open up to her about everything. To tell her that I was messed up and abused and sometimes a little too intense, but after everything, it was so hard to speak about feelings.

”Really?!” She said, putting her hands on her hips as she stood outside the car. We had just reached her house and were venturing up the steps that lead to the door. “What did I say?”

”Err,” I attempted, wanting to laugh at her directness but feeling bad that I wasn’t listening. It wasn’t on purpose though. There were just so many things on my mind. Today was supposed to be one of the most important days of my life, but the unexpected visit had kind of rocked the boat. Plus my mind was troubled by Adam and his wavering health. I knew I needed to focus on my wife and being with her unreservedly, but I was mentally drained.

”Ahmed, you can’t let this spoil your day,” she said, her expression softening. “I know there are things we are both worried about but let’s just be present, okay? I’ve been trying to explain this to you but I rather just hand it over now…”

She paused and watched me as I looked at her curiously, and then calmly handed me the keys to the house. I looked at them and then looked back at her a little hesitantly, not sure what she wanted me to do.

“I want you to be the one to open it,” she said simply. “It’s your house too. I don’t want you to feel awkward or out of place. You’re my husband. The man of the house. From today… well… this is our home.”

I took a step backwards as I fiddled with the keys, knowing that this was something we never spoke about. It was strange. My wife giving me a house. I didn’t even have the means to buy her a house. I felt like an invalid. I knew we would be living here but I didn’t realize how it would feel. I didn’t think that far ahead, but now I know that maybe I should have…

”Can we talk about this?” I asked, rubbing my temples and handing her back her keys. I couldn’t do it. I had to talk this out first. 

Money. I knew there’d come a time when we’d have to delve into this. I wasn’t rich like her previous husband. I didn’t have the means to give her whatever she desired. After Aunty Nas’s barging in today, the emotions were stronger than ever. The insecurities were overwhelming. 

After all… that’s what all the fights were about. That’s how it spiraled out of control. Money. In her skewed mindset, she said she was doing it for money. The first time Abba had found out about Aunty Nas’s business, there was a big fight. He had took most of it out on me because Aunty Nas wasn’t the type you could reason with. It was the catalyst to something that was long coming, so I left them alone. After her coaxing and convincing… I had been somewhat damaged. Something had been altered inside of me but I wanted to forget it.

To tell the truth, I was getting older and Abba was getting scared of me. I was becoming wild. That’s when our relationship died. He couldn’t talk to me. No one could. With Abba no longer able to get through to me, they started fighting about it. About us kids. About the house. About money. About her ‘business’. Aunty Nas left me alone. I would escape to catch up with the neighborhood guys. I got caught up. Everything was about money. It could kill the pain. At home. In the street. Guns, mafia and armour. Drug trades and small deals. I turned to vices to kill the demons. Money was always the draw card. I let it control my life because I thought that I had no other escape…

Then I met Ziyaad at the airport that day and my entire life changed. 

”Ahmed,” Rubeena said softly, as she looked at me expectantly. She was waiting for me to continue. I gazed at her, not really believing that this amazing woman had somehow become mine. I had been dreaming of this and now it was happening. She was right here.

I met her gaze steadily as she came towards me, catching me slightly off guard as she came closer, feeling myself automatically stiffen at her proximity. That was just me. Like a reflex, I closed up when I felt emotion. I felt my heart beat escalate in terrified anticipation, but all she did at that point was lean in to embrace me comfortingly, allowing the pain of the day to completely dissipate as found my arms around her and numbly held her back. Her slim body fitted perfectly. I was still scared to feel anything. I was still afraid to let go. Despite the letter and what my mother had said… loving someone unreservedly might be harder than I thought..

But I had to remember, I thought to myself, as I tightened my arms around her. We grow through what we go through. We learn from our mistakes. We let go of the past. Now it was different. Now I knew better. Now I understood that I couldn’t let my past control the future.

I pulled back to look at the beautiful and kind-hearted woman who stood before me, waiting for me to open up to her. This was my wife. With her there were no more barriers.

”Ruby,” I started, because I knew we had little time before the function and I needed at least some of what was on my mind…

She looked at me, her brow slightly furrowed.

I had things that I wanted to assure her of. Insecurities that I needed to address.

”Im happy where we are,” I said quietly. “But I don’t think that this situation is ideal. We can’t be living here indefinitely. It’s not my home. I don’t want us to have fights about money or the kids or what you do. I don’t want you to have to earn for yourself. Your family is my family. I want us to make our own memories. I want to live a different kind of life. Maybe even go abroad. Even though I can’t afford it right now, I have a plan to move to our own home and to support you and our family fully. I want those boys to grow up as mine and I want you to know that you can trust me, whenever you need to… and I’ll never let you-“

”Ahmed,” Rubeena said, cutting me off. “You don’t need to say all this. I know you’ll be a great husband and father but all this money stuff, it’s not about that…”

”You’re wrong Rubeena,” I said heatedly. We were still standing outside, and the keys had landed up somewhere on the bench.  “You may say it’s not about that but I worry. I worry that I won’t be able to provide for you. I worry that I might let you down. I worry that we’ll fight over money and become enemies. I know you haven’t had to worry about money your whole life… but I’m not a millionaire or a business whizz. I’m a simple guy who’s trying to earn his living… and to put it simply… what if I’m just not enough?”

”I don’t care about money!” She said, stepping back. Her brown eyes appeared darker as she glared at me. “Don’t you get it, Ahmed?! That’s exactly what your mother was saying. It’s about the heart. My heart is so happy… contented… She knew you so well… and I can’t believe she hit it on the head!”

“You said no once Rubeena,” I said quietly, shaking my head at her. It still hurt. “My mother was right but I felt like I lost the game with you. If I don’t step up… what if I lose you again… I don’t know -“

“That’s not what I married you for, silly,” she retorted angrily. “It’s never been about security! I was worried about other things. About my kids. About your age. About what everyone will say. Stupid things that don’t make sense but I worried about it because that’s how crazy I am. I’m sorry that you married a bit of a lunatic but you’ve met my mother and unfortunately it’s hereditary so there’s not much I can do about it!”

I looked at my wife through new lenses, fighting the urge to smile as she got up and paced in front of me, pausing suddenly and looking me in the eye. Her abaya was flowing behind her as she walked speedily, looking like a woman with a mission…

“It’s easy to talk,” she said, her tone lowering as she spoke. Her breathing was slightly heavy because she was worked up. “It’s easy to be all noble and say we do this for this reason and that for that reason. But we have a greater purpose here. Why we did this. We could have easily carried on with the Haraam. It would have been so much easier but we both knew it was wrong so we stopped. We could have been talking and developing deeper feelings for each other… getting into something that neither of us would have benefited from… but we made a choice for a deeper reason. Yes. We love Him, but we have to ponder and wonder and remind ourselves of what’s in our hearts. How are we going to maintain this relationship with Allah? Are our hearts filled with the reality of Allah? Is it completely trusting in Him? Yes, I’m scared. I have fears too. I worry too. I’m scared that I’ll mess up. I’m scared about my brother. I’m scared about my kids growing up and changing. But I don’t care where we live. I don’t care what we have. We can sell the house. We can live in a one-bedroom apartment. We can do whatever you’re happy with because I don’t care about any of it now. If there’s one thing I realized now after everything… after the hell with Shabeer and now  Adam’s sickness… We hold onto this life and money and cars so tightly even when there’s really no point to it….”

I was a little speechless as I digested her rant. Of course, because it was Rubeena, she obviously wasn’t done yet.

“Yes, we have to plan,” she continued, her voice a little softer. “But we have to plan for what’s eternal. We have to build our hopes and dreams but not for now. We have to focus on what’s coming after. Now can we just go inside and start our life together because I really can’t wait to see what this chapter has in store for us… ”

I stared at my new wife, a little taken aback by her impeccable faith. I’d never met anyone like her before.

I’d never heard anyone talk so trustingly, with conviction… and really mean it. I wanted to leave everything behind me right then and start again. I wanted to live a life of amazing  Tawakkul that she had, because she had somehow mastered it. I wanted to give her more than she had given me. She had opened her heart and her home to me, but for her, it was clear than it was no great sacrifice. It wasn’t about the tangible things. It wasn’t about the temporary perks. She only cared about what was to come. How we would grow. How we would learn to love each other. How we would worship Allah through every moment that we would hopefully earn our Jannah.

She was all pretty and flushed and wide-eyed as she went on, and I couldn’t help but grab the keys and open the door speedily, knowing that there was no other way she would stop talking. 

I had dreamt of traveling the world with her, of seeing Deen through a different eye. I wanted to spread love together. Like the Sahaba had left their comfort, I had hopes of continuing my passions. Of going out for greater causes. Of embarking on trips that would be filled with adventure and hope and guidance for others. Of offering her a different life to what she had known. I had so many ambitions that I wished I could make her a part of but I knew it would all happen in due time.

Maybe the kids would get a bit bigger first. Maybe our family would grow a little more. Maybe eventually, we’d settle down and then think about it properly, before we made any hasty decision. Maybe we didn’t need to have it all penned out… maybe it was better to just take it as it comes. 

Yes, we had worries and trials. We had many things that were in the pipeline that could throw us off track, but that’s the thing with patience.

There was no rush. Maybe it won’t be happily ever after. Maybe it will just be happily right now, but that was enough. Until tomorrow… even if it was just for now…. everything was going to be okay.

---

Dearest Readers

Just on the topic… (I’m sorry if I offend anyone who does this so please don’t hound me 🙈…)

With regard to emotional therapy, there was a recent talk by Ml Ridwana Kajee on how certain therapies like body talk and ‘journey’ have links with books that are completely against Islamic teaching. Many parents take their kids for these kind of healing if they experience any difficulty in school or otherwise.

 The fact that it can allow one to see into another’s life and past is clear that their is association with Jinn and Shaytaan. Let us just be wary of ever consulting with any emotional therapies if this sort. Allah Ta’ala promises us the best of cures in the Hadith and Quran. Just focusing on these can cure depression and many other emotional ailments InshaAllah 

Allah save us, 

#justmyrambles 

Much Love 

A xx

 

 

Sunnah Duaa for Month of Rajab 

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

Oh Allah! Grant us Barakah (Blessing) during (the months of) Rajab and Sha’ban, and allow us to reach Ramadan.
 Dua on the first night of Rajab is readily accepted by Allah.

Imam Shafi’i RA has stated: “I have heard that duaas are accepted
by Almighty Allah on five nights:
The night of Jumu’ah
The nights of the two ‘Eids
The first night of Rajab
The middle (15th) night of Sha’ban

Allah accept our efforts and Duaas. 

A forgotten Sunnah. Eaten fallen particles… Sometimes we forget the Barakah that can be in even a grain of food. To eat what has fallen on the cloth or even the floor… SubhaanAllah.

Anas ibn Maalik narrated that when the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) ate, he would lick his three fingers. Anas said: “And he said, ‘If any one of you drops a piece of food, let him remove any dirt from it and eat it, and not leave it for the Shaytaan.’ And he commanded us to clean the plate, and said, ‘For you do not know where in your food the blessing is.’” (Narrated by Muslim, 2034). 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

Finding Courage

 

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

Life is unpredictable. And then it’s amazing. At times deliberately unbearable. And then it’s amazing again. And in between it all, it’s ordinary and mundane, and all sorts of crazy, but we trudge through it because we know that at some point the moments of amazement will find their way to us once again.

The thing with life is that we always make everything about it super important. Whether it’s our jobs or our work or what we’re cooking for dinner… everything is majorly important until something more important comes to light. And that’s when you realize that it was the only thing that’s really important. Your health. Above all else. When sickness makes a show… that’s when we see how we borrowed from the bank of our health taking loans of stress and sleepless nights to pay for the things that don’t really matter… but when it’s gone, well, it changes everything.

And the thing is, it wasn’t easy when we’re tested. Because that’s exactly what it is. Our health and our wealth and the people that we love. It wasn’t easy to be strong and keep the faith through the tests. It wasn’t easy to keep believing and understanding that whether good or bad, everything only came from Allah Aza Wajal. We needed constant inspiration. Reminders. A continuous flow of unchanging Tawakkul that helped us to get through it.

When I looked back though, I realized that I was truly lucky. Whether it was Aunty Radiyyah, Zuleikha or Nusaybah… whether it was a Bayaan that someone sent me or a Wazifah that I had been told to read… I owed them the world for every piece of advice or motivation then so willingly offer to keep me going. It gave me courage. Hope. Perseverance. Because whether we find ourselves in extreme difficulty of whether we fall into complacency, we all need something to shake us up and remind us about Allah’s grand master plan. We all need to be reminded…

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

And as I looked at my friend with the very strength that I had acquired through her channel of love, she was obviously not buying my assurances.

”I’m perfect,” I responded, not really meaning it. There was just too much that had happened that was playing on my mind and I I knew I couldn’t hide from my friend.

I turned my face away as she narrowed her eyes at me and the smell of her Nik Naks hit my nose. For some reason I was beginning to resent the cheesy smell of  Nusaybah’s favorite chips. The main problem was that my dear friend seemed to be in love with them and overdosing on them during our study sessions.

”Listen Missy,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her eyebrows at me. “There’s only one Mr Perfect and the names not up for grabs… even if you do happen to be married to him. Spill it. Is he okay?”

“He’s perfect,” I said blandly, amused at the irony.

Mr Perfect was no longer perfect.  There might be some adjusting there for my dear friend. I looked back at my her, knowing that she was just concerned about me. To tell the truth, I was a bit concerned too.

I looked at my friend as she watched me, swallowing hard to suppress the tears.

“You have courage, Khawlah,” she whispered. “More than anyone I know. Pour your heart out on that Musallah if you can’t to me, and Allah will surely answer your Du’aa. I know you’re scared but I can almost see that hijabi-warrior mode switched on in your brain and I don’t know how you do it…“

Her eyes searched mine fervently as a single tear rolled down my cheek. I shrugged as I met my friends eyes, not really knowing how to answer.

Tawakkul, right? It was like a superpower. And as I sat and prayed that night, trying my utmost to plead with Allah through prayer and perseverence it was almost like I could feel my Lord reaching out for my hand.

Tawakkul. Sometimes we had to just pull it out and wear it over our clothes, even where we’re burning inside. After a while… the courage from within finds its way to the surface, knowing it has to pull us through.

I sat there, wondering what it was about life that made it all seem so surreal at times. I could barely believe that it had already been just over two weeks that the spinal tumour was confirmed and there were no words to describe the turmoil that had been engulfing me just at the onset of my final period of examination. The timing was completely unprecedented. Aadam’s uncle had explained that the tumour was an aggressive type and surgery wasn’t possible.

Somehow, through all the tests after the fall, they had missed this. This one crucial problem that would cost us so much. Maybe even his life. And yes, we could be angry but it was no-ones fault. How can we question Allah’s will? It was meant to be. The oncologists had been concerned about the Myeloma and it’s revelation had diverted them from the other signs of Aadam’s underlying condition. Usually patients were given time to consider all the pros and cons but Uncle Siraj had briefly and sternly said that he strongly recommended that Aadam start immediately. In a way, I was relieved to find out about it.

As terrible as it was, a certain amount of consolation accompanied the palpable fear. At long last… I was relieved that there was a reason for all the pain and discomfort. Relieved now that it wasn’t undiagnosed. Relieved that Aadam had finally consented to attempt some medical treatment… despite being so stubborn about it in the initial stages.

He would go to the hospital every day for a few hours and come back by the late afternoon, at most times, utterly exhausted. I had asked him multiple times about how he was coping but he never spoke about it and I had realized that it was something that he didn’t want to delve into. Whether he thought of it as tedious information or some kind of shortcoming on his side… I wasn’t sure, but I respected his wishes and let it be. We lived in a world where hope was our weapon and Tawakkul would see us through. My thoughts drifted back to the day before when everything had became starker than we ever wanted to see it…

“Drink this.”

I could see Aadam shifting uncomfortably in his seat as he looked back at my mother-in-law with his one raised eyebrow.

He studied the glass carefully.

”I don’t see anything floating in here,” he said with a tiny grin, despite his apparent weakness on that particular day. “Is it safe?”

”Of course!” She said, hands on her hips. “It’s only water.”

”Water that she’s made ‘phoook’ in about 25 times,” Rubeena mumbled to herself from behind us.

I grinned as I heard my sister-in-law’s voice, not expecting to bump into her here today. She had probably wanted to see Aadam before the big night. I smiled as I remembered how my mother-in-law was going on two weeks back about a lady who she was convinced was after her family, and was now going all out to protect them with her reading of various Amal, thankfully approved by Ma.

I turned slightly to smile at Ruby in mutual understanding, not expecting to almost do a double take as I glimpsed her lightly made-up face that seemed to be glowing from within. I was a little in awe as I looked at here, shocked that she looked so different today. Calm. Composed. Serene.

Being naturally pretty, she never did wear much makeup, but today’s subtle application was done just beautifully, to suit her completely natural demeanor. To accompany it, she had tastefully matched it with a beautiful pastel dress with a simple floral print that suited her perfectly. Of course, her abaya was thrown over the chair to cover the slightly fitted dress, until later on when she would be having her first meeting with her new husband…

”Wow, Rubes,” Aadam said, giving her a raised eyebrow. “You look like you’re going for a wedding or something …”

Never mind it was her own Nikah. That was just by the way…

And as I watched her chatting quietly to my husband, I couldn’t help but think that maybe Ahmed was a luckier guy than he had thought. i just couldn’t help but feel sorry for Rubeena who would have to deal with my clinically unexpressive brother well… for the rest of her life.

Of course, having first found about the Nikah two weeks ago was a bit of a shock for me, but not completely unexpected.

It took some processing but it was amazing to see that as I warmed up to the idea and truly became excited, I realized that this was the happiest I’d seen any of them. Rubeena was glowing. Ahmed was literally on top of the world. The best part was that the boys were equally excited when they realized who their new father figure would be. Surprisingly, Ahmed wasn’t as terrible with boy kids as I thought he’d be. 

And just as I was about to tell her how stunning I thought she looked, before I could get a word in, between us suddenly stepped my mother-in-law who was on a solid mission, relentlessly splashing drops of Aadam’s ‘phook’ water on her from all directions. She looked like some sort of weird sprinkler system.

I could see Rubeena’s expression change from peacefully composed to annoyingly exasperated in literally three seconds. I had a feeling that her serene composure was dangerously close to disintegration and I stifled my grin as I watched them both.

”Ma, please stop,” she said, rolling her eyes as she tried to avoid the droplets splattering her face. I could understand how annoying it must have been, but my mother-in-law was hearing none of it.

”Ma!” She almost yelled now as her mother continued, holding up her hands. “My make up! You’re spoiling it!”

“You rather spoil your make up now than spoil your marriage later!” My mother-in-law almost barked at her. ”If only you know how people can be. Selfish and jealous. Anything they see, they look with bad eyes and then you’ll find yourself falling flat on your face even when you’re sleeping! You have no idea, Rubeena!”

I wanted to giggle, but I pursed my lips to conceal it. I got what she was saying. I knew that there was the evil eye and people who do weird things when they’re jealous and a little bit messed up in their heads… but that being said… like Rubeena, I also shared the notion that she was being a little over the top. Sometimes the bad things that happen to us are tests. Sometimes we needed to understand that Allah places these tests in our way for us to turn to Him…

And as the two of them argued inconclusively and finally left the room to fetch the boys and get them ready for the big night too, I smiled to myself, thinking about how sometimes things just work out so perfectly. I could see the relief on Aadam’s face when everything had fell into place for Rubeena the week before. When I hadn’t put up a fight with him about what I had always thought would be the worst move ever…

Surprisingly, Shabeer too didn’t stand much of a chance with trying to convince Rubeena to reconsider.

I snuck a look at my husband that evening, noticing his eyes serenely closed. I could see that today wasn’t a good day and I missed his usual banter. The thing was, the more serious Aadam’s condition became, the busier the house seemed to be getting. It also meant that he got more tired, and faster. We didn’t have much time alone. There were people who were coming to visit him that I’d never heard of before, apologizing for not coming earlier because they didn’t know. Now that Aadam’s cancer was out in the open, I supposed the reality was also hitting much harder on my heart…

And as I glanced at him, and then busied myself with clearing up some scattered cups that were lying around, I barely even noticed Aadam shifting around uncomfortably behind me and then suddenly sitting up and sprinting to the bathroom in haste, promptly retching his poor guts out as I listened in shock from the outside.

My heart was hammering in my chest as I heard it. It sounded horrific. His breath was raspy and his heavy breathing was audible even from outside. I couldn’t help but shudder at the noise of his gagging as I pushed the door open, then watched him dabbing his mouth with a face towel, not meeting my eye as I witnessed him at his worst state yet. Yes, he was fatally ill but the reality never really hit me because I had never seen him this way. 

”Sweets,” he said softly, not looking up at me yet. There was a slight quiver in his voice as he spoke. “I don’t know if I can do this today. I mean, I can’t. I can’t find the strength… the strength to drag myself out of this room… but I know that I need to…”

He sounded desperate as I watched him, searching for the familiar signs of humour in his eyes as he said it… but today, there was nothing. Today he was hollow. Inside and out. When your body can’t make the cut, there’s really nothing else that can be done. I wasn’t sure if I could even accept what he was saying. Aadam never complained. It was the first time he’d ever showed pain. Weakness. It was the first time he was showing any sign of defeat.

He leaned over the sink and looked at me from the side of his eye, almost as if he was beyond repair.

”I can’t do this,” he said again, his voice dropping as he looked at me. “I can’t.”

If only he could see the sins falling from him for every ache and pain that he had so patiently endured…

I shook my head at him, not knowing what to tell him. Everything that I had known and loved about him had been sucked out of him by this illness. Every hope that he had had was extinguished. I could feel my heart hammering as I watched him, taking a step closer and pulling him toward me as he sunk his head into my shoulder, involuntary heaving as he let it all out, finally realizing that his strength was not meant to bear so many mountains.

I helped him to the couch, sitting next to him as he gained his strength. I ran my fingers over the stubble on his neck, taking in the familiar scent of him as he pulled me towards him. 

It was amazing how Allah put empathy and patience in between hearts to pull us through the most trying times. It wasn’t like this was a a familiar feeling for us. This kind of feeling was foreign. Unexpected. Completely beyond anything I had felt before. This was above the romance and passion and intensity that had engulfed us over the few weeks that Aadam was still ‘okay’. Right then was something beyond superficial. It was when understanding and compassion and love were the founding factors. It was a calling to show him the beauty of the strength that Allah had most definitely given him to get through this. It was when I had to remind him that you can’t throw in the towel on something that Allah had placed in his path, despite how deeply you may be hurting inside.

Sometimes it was in those moments of weakness and vulnerability that we truly seek what we’re looking for. Sometimes when we think we’ve lost it all, it’s the very time that we find our greatest treasure.

”Aadam,” I said to him, holding his hand tighter as I spoke. “Listen to me. This is not forever. You will feel better. You may be hurting… but you will be okay. Yes, you’re allowed to have moments of weakness but let me just remind you that you aren’t defined by this. You are stronger than this and you will find the courage because this is what Allah promises. He promises us that we will never be given more than we can bear and one thing I know and have learnt over the years is that Allah’s promise always holds true…”

His dark eyes were still searching mine for answers as he looked back at me. 

“How is this even fair?” He asked, shaking his head.

I looked at him as he said it, obviously not having any words to answer him. We were never promised that this life would be fair. We were never given a promise of justice and recompense for this temporary abode. If only we could see what awaited us after… when we walk in our eternal home… then we’d truly understand.

“I mean,” he continued, looking up at me with the shadow of a smile. “That I have you. I took a little chance on an investment that I made and look how I’ve been repaid. Overpaid. Like I don’t even understand it… because all I am is a smelly sick guy who married a girl who blew me away and somehow I scored the gold…”

I couldn’t help but grin as I looked at him, glad to see the going of humor in his eye again.

”You’re not smelly,” I said to him. His lashes were darker than ever today for some reason, and his one dimple flashed at me as he smiled. “You always smell amazing…”

“If vomit and dettol is your flavor,” he said wryly. “Maybe I should puke around you more often. Like really go all out. Maybe even puke on you. Might do me wonders, yeah?”

”And yet another talent of yours,” I said, trying not to smile. ”I love that you do everything with so much of passion…. always going the extra mile…”

“Really?!” He said, raising his eyebrow playfully. “You think I have skill?! Wow.”

I nodded.

”You do,” I said with a sweet smile. “But you know which talent I love the most?”

Aadam cocked his head and looked at me pensively.

“Please do go on,” he said innocently.

“Most of all,” I said slowly, building up some momentum as he eyed me out cynically and crossed his arms over his chest.

“Most of all… I love that weird eyebrow of yours,” I said with a giggle. “It’s the cherry on the top!”

And just as I stuck my tongue out at his anti-climatic moan in good humor, it was at that precise moment that the shrill noise of the buzzer erratically sounded.

“My eyebrow?!” He asked, shaking his head. “Come on! This calls for a re-election.”

“I’ll think about it,” I said with a laugh. ”Let me get the door.”

”If it’s my mother, tell her I’m on a hunger strike…” he called after me.

I shook my head at him as I made my way to the door, tightening my hijab and stopping to unlatch it without really thinking about the possibilities of who would be outside.

To tell the truth, I expected one of Aadam’s or my family members. I expected a friend or someone who might have worked with him. What I didn’t expect to see was the striking female doctor that I had met at the hospital those few months back, looking at me with a slightly hopeful expression and a certain reservation in her eyes.

I could already sense her hesitation and as I spotted the little girl on her hip… my mind already racing with all types of possibilities that I had never imagined before.

Yes, life was unpredictable. Amazing. At times, unbearable… but in between it all, it’s all sorts of crazy that bring you back to the reason you were put here in the first place.

Sometimes things are not as they seem. Sometimes life unfolds in sinister ways to show you what the most important things in them really are. And sometimes the worst of situations can be the very instance when we find the greatest treasure of all…

---

Dearest Readers 

Apologies about the delays. I know I’m pushing it but I had a few patients in my house the past week and it still hasn’t ended!   Am aspiring to be more punctual InshaAllah #goals 

Duaas always needed 

Much Love

A xx

Duaa at the onset of Rajab, do recite.

Don’t forget our Sunnah Revival!

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

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

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

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

 

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

The Real Stuff

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

“By the Glorious Morning Light,”

“And by the Night when it is still,

“Your Lord has neither forsaken you,

Nor has He become displeased.”

“And surely the hereafter will be better for you than the present (life).”

“And soon your Lord will grant that with which you shall be well-pleased.”

“Did He not find you an orphan and sheltered (you)?”

“And He found you wandering and guided (you).”

“And He found you in need and made you independent…”

(Surah Duha, The Glorious Qur’an) 

Tranquility descended as the verses played through my mind, again and again, almost as if they were a gentle reminder of everything I had forgotten all along.

There was something strange about a broken heart. There were times when it almost craved the pangs that it felt, in an almost sadistic way. And then there were times when you dreaded the hurt so much, because it felt like your chest would cave in, and the only thing stopping it from doing so are the gasps of air you take in between the tears…

The verses of Surah Duha had come like a breeze of inspiration… bringing with it relief and consolation.. easing the pain that had come from a very palpable loss. As a young girl, I recalled Khalid narrating the detailed events that led up to it’s revelation that was my ultimate refuge. How such a young heart had captured the intricacy of what transpired at the time of revelation of this beautiful Surah, was completely beyond me. At a tender age of seven, Khalid had exhibited such splendid insight, that even my nearly seventeen-year-old self still struggled to grasp.

It had been fifteen days that had passed since the beloved Prophet (SAW) had received any revelation. The disbelievers taunted him. His heart had felt burdened… as if his Lord was not happy with him.  And when the verses descended on him, like refreshing rain after a scorching drought, it gave him a new strength, and brought him immense hope. And of course, it didn’t just come as a ‘proof’ to those at the time, who were too arrogant to see the truth. Till this day it comes with the unchanging message to remind him (SAW)… and us all… that no matter what… our Merciful Lord has never left us alone. 

At the time, it had been two weeks since Mama’s passing and though the chaos at home had died down, the torrent of emotion in my heart was still very palpable.

I missed my Mama. Enormously. It felt like the pain of longing had penetrated to the depths of my soul. But being with Khalid and Aunty Radiyyah helped me forget about the reality back home. I was good at pretending, when I was there. I pretended that nothing had changed.  I had pretended that Mama was still here, like she had always been.. busy in the kitchen.. laughing at something that Abba had said… or getting together our things for school the next day.

Mama was at home, I silently told myself. She wasn’t gone so far away.

And for months, as I escaped through the back door, down the familiar path to Khalid’s gorgeous garden, that would be my life. Day in, day out… I would pretend that home was still the same. That nothing had changed. And through my routine that I had become so accustomed to, somewhere along the way, I had forgotten to pretend. For a boisterous six-year-old, life was too exciting to keep living a facade. Somehow, reality had become bearable again, and I supposed that’s how people heal.  The mind forgets. The soul repairs. Happiness returns, once again…

It doesn’t mean that everything goes away. It just means that the feeling of loss no longer controls our lives.

And as I thought of those days once again, whilst the verses that had comforted my siblings then.. consoled me now, the memories were vivid as I thought back…

I breathed in deeply as the verses played through my mind. No matter how long.. what time.. or what place.. the effect that they brought was never lost.

Ans just as I felt like dwelling in my misery for a few more hours, because I had become so accustomed to it, Nusaybah’s jovial voice came as a piercing reminder that regular life had to go on…

”Nus!” I squealed, pulling the blanket over my head as she inconsiderately yanked open my curtains. “Don’t you have any consideration for people who sleep? I know you barely get any shut-eye, but come on!”

“It’s past 11AM, girl!” She said, appalled at my statement. “Get yourself out of that bed and lets get cracking with some work! Plus, there’s a car stalking your house…”

I groaned as I crawled further under the covers. Why, oh why, didn’t Nusaybah stay away longer?

”Didn’t you miss me?” Nusaybah asked sweetly as she placed her hands on her hips and grinned at me. “Or have you been too busy with Mr Perfect to even notice me gone?”

If only she knew the truth about ‘Mr Perfect’. I had felt like I had unwrapped the most beautiful box of decadent Belgian chocolates, and just found a dead cockroach inside.

“What car are you taking about?“ I said, peeping out from the top of the duvet.

”A black one,” she said obviously. “With tinted windows. And a sinister looking male inside.”

I groaned inwardly again.

“On the other hand,” Nusaybah said, cocking her head to one side thoughtfully. “That car was really shady looking… it may just be a throw off. You never know what extra-terrestrial creatures may be lurking within…”

“It’s Aadam’s car,” I said, knowing what kind of delusional thoughts would be going through my friends mind. Her imagination was way too vivid for my liking.

“Ah,” she said, as if a bulb had been flickered on in her extremely active brain, as she peeped out the window. “But he’s gone now. So what’s going on? Why was he waiting outside like a creep?”

My best friend was an amazing soul, but one talent she didn’t have was the knack of being politely subtle.

“It’s been a bit of a crazy week…” I started, as Nusaybah crawled into bed next to me and listened to my lamenting for almost fifteen minutes. Besides the fact that Aadam and I weren’t on the best of terms right then, the conflict was causing other problems in the family that I didn’t anticipate.

Ahmed’s Samoosa run had gone off well from his side, but the dramatics thereafter were what made him go off on a tangent with me about Aadam. He was convinced that if Aadam was there like he should have been, no issues would have stemmed… And although I honestly was just a naive girl who had no inkling of worldly matters, my difficult brother had no sympathy whatsoever.

And there I was, pouring my heart out to Nusaybah about how genuinely awkward the situation had got at this girl’s house when the aunties started asking me all kind of weird questions, and all Nusaybah could do was sit next to me and crack herself up about my unseemly predicament.

Let me just put it lightly. I was not impressed.

”Oh… my… days!” Nusaybah managed to say between fits of giggles. She was nearly wetting her pants at my expense whilst I stared at her stonily.

“Let me just make sure I haven’t gotten the wrong end of the twisted stick here,” she finally spluttered, almost blue in the face to stop herself from laughing more. “Ahmed went to see a girl… and you ended up being a girl… that someone else wants to see?!”

She burst into fits of giggles as she looked at me, completely oblivious to my annoyance. I couldn’t see the humor here, as yet. I was just appalled at everyone. Including Nusaybah.

”I’m sorry,” she finally said, pursing her lips and looking at me with a faintest of smirks. “You just kill me, girl. Whenever I talk to you, I feel like we’re living in some amazing novella!”

”What on earth is a ‘novella’?”

”Nevermind,” she said, waving her hand. “I think we can deduce that your life will always have more drama than the usual sixteen-year-old, for various reasons that we will no longer mention…“

She glanced at me demurely, and then smiled.

”But honestly, hun,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest and sitting up to look at me. “You’re amazing. I mean, firstly, you’re my best friend, so that already speaks for itself.”

She smiled as she said it, with a humorous glint in her eye.

“You have so much going for you… no wonder those aunties were trying to set you up with their rather unsuitable connections… but you know what..?”

I looked at my friend questioningly, softening a little at the edges as she spoke.

”You’re so hard on yourself,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “Really hard. And I know it’s been tough growing up and things have been difficult… I mean, I can’t imagine how it must have been to have that kind of constant reshuffling in your life… but I suppose that’s what makes you hard. I mean, you lost so many people you loved… And over the years, it wasn’t just about being hard on yourself. You’re scared to let anyone close to you, because you’re hard on everyone else too. It’s almost as if you don’t want anyone to take that special place ever again….”

I blinked as she said it, her words striking a chord that I didn’t expect. Emotion had been evading me, even as I tried to let it all out. Although I was hurt and confused and really quite upset about Aadam… I wasn’t sure how to behave with him after this. How to get back to where we were… or even if we should…

Had I really been just shoving him off? Not wanting to get close… because I didn’t want to open my heart?

“That guy,” Nusaybah said, pointing towards the window. “Is a genius. And I’m not talking about his computer skills here. He’s a genius because not only did he see an opportunity to change his entire life… he’s a genius because he bagged the girl who inspired it. And then of course, he’s something like a wizard, because he made you- the ultimate warrior-hijaabi-princess who can do freaking Kung Fu- go all gaga over him.”

I opened my mouth to protest but Nusaybah held her hand up to stop me.

“Don’t you even try to deny it!” she warned, widening her eyes at me. “Goodness, Khawlah.. which guy in this day and age will build you your own garden on a damn rooftop, with a REAL hand-crafted swing, when you marry him?! Which guy will take you horseback riding into the mountains and quote you higher grade tafseer verses as you watch the dazzling sunrise?! Bloody hell, Khawlah, which guy buys you a hundred red roses to apologise- and I know its a hundred because I counted them before I came down to your room- and still sits and waits for you for days while you decide when you’re ready to talk to him? If I was a guy, especially one that resembles your husband, I’d be gone to find some other fish.. and believe, there are plenty..”

Why did Nusaybah always make me feel so… terrible?!

I breathed in as I looked at her, stunned at her attention to every detail I had told her in passing. How did she even remember all these things? 

“Remember that day when you turned your nose up at him like he wasn’t good enough for you?” she said softly as she met my gaze. “And remember what I told you? That his past is his past. You expected this. Everyone’s got sins.  I said: “Take a chance, ‘coz what Allah has decreed, who are we to challenge?” I don’t know what exactly he’s done, but if he hasn’t murdered anyone, broken your trust in him or sucked your blood as yet.. then believe me, in this day and age, you’re good to go.”

She gave me a small smirk as she said it, contented with her words and leaving me just a little bit speechless. I didn’t tell her what Aadam had done. I didn’t think it was fair to him… but Nusaybah was a child prodigy, the way she put everything into perspective.

It was no wonder that I suddenly had this overwhelming desire in me that some day… One day… I really wished that I’d get a chance to repay Nusaybah for all this jacking up that I constantly needed. One day, I hoped that I’d be the one that would help her through her own battles that she faced too… This friendship was one of those forever ones.

There was no getting rid of her now. Nusaybah knew way too much.

“So what do I do now?” I said, knowing what Nusaybah was trying to say but not knowing how to start. I knew that I had been difficult this week. I had switched my phone off and disconnected myself from everyone. To me, I just needed time to think. A lot of ‘what ifs’ and ‘what nexts’ had been going through my mind, but since Nusaybah had come to make me see the sense that I had been missing all this time…

“Go and have a shower, for starters,” Nusaybah said, scrunching up her face and pinching her nose as if I was a bad stench. “I’ll be back in ten minutes to tell you what to wear, since you look like you forgot what real clothes are. Then we’re going to get your life together so you can stop moping around like a crazy old spinster who lives with cats.”

I rolled my eyes at her and got out of bed, ready to take on the day. Nusaybah had so much of energy that I just couldn’t help but catch some of it from her.

And of course, after a hot shower, I already felt so much more optimistic. I supposed everything had just taken a toll. I sighed as I heard her shuffling outside the door, wondering why she was taking so long. I pulled on my nightgown that I wore the previous day, calling for her while I towel dried my hair and dumped my towel on the chair.

“Nusaybah, what’s the plans for today?” I called, a little annoyed that she wasn’t here as yet. “Will we be indoors or can we get some sunlight? I have no idea…”

There was a tap on the door as I pulled out two more dresses and an abaya dumped them on the bed. I felt like one of those irritating girls who kept on trying on outfits, even though I hadn’t even put one on as yet.

“Come in!” I yelled, frustrated that dressing up was taking so long. “Its way past ten minutes, now, Nus… I cant sit around and wait-”

“I’m sorry.”

I spun around as I heard his voice, my breath catching in my throat as he looked back at me steadily.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait for me,” Aadam continued with a small smile as I gaped at him, and he made his way to the edge of the bed. “All I came to do was claim back my wife..”

Where did he come from?

I stared at his easy posture as he grinned back at me. Trust him to make a joke out of everything. At least he wasn’t angry like Ahmed had been. He hung up my wet towel, pulling up the (embarrassingly damp) chair to sit. I was still in shock that he was actually here… so much so, that I had even forgotten my hurricane-looking room and ghastly appearance… until I looked down at my toes so realise I was still wearing my the dreary grey nightgown that Zuleikha had handed down to me just before she got married, and my hair was not even brushed. It didn’t help that he looked like some kind of Kurta-clad Arab prince and I was Mrs Frump. Aadam really did choose his moments, and Nusaybah was probably going to get a helluva mouthful too. I was quite certain that this was her master-work.

“Um, I..” I swallowed, not really sure how to react. How crazy was it that I couldn’t even talk to my own husband?

“Sorry to barge in like this,” he said apologetically, his one dimple visible as he smiled at me. “I can see you’re not exactly expecting me.”

He glanced around my room, while I tried to keep a straight face. Inwardly, I was horrified.

“I suppose sometimes we just have to take a chance,” Aadam murmured, looking at me as he spoke. Why did I get the feeling he wasn’t only talking about now? “Some things come our way, and sometimes we take the risks and just have to hope for the best.”

I stared at him as he said it, my heart feeling like it was on fire.

“But,” he almost whispered, breaking his gaze away as he continued. “Sometimes we don’t always know what we are setting ourselves up for. The path that we are supposed to tread is not always perfectly paved out for us. We don’t always have a map. Some of us grow up to think that we’re free… like birds just finding a rooftop… living for the moment… To fly as we wish and at liberty to do as we please.. And then, we get overcome by emotion. And emotion is amazing, but it’s also scary and overwhelming… and sometimes… sometimes, these emotions… they make us give into our desires… do things that take us away from the point of life… away from our Loving Creator…”

He swallowed as he said the last part, and I knew that he was reliving those moments in his mind. My own heart was thudding in my chest as I saw the turbulence in his eyes.

“And that’s when we lose ourselves to it, yeah?” he continued softly, his eyes boring into mine. “We give in to temptation. We think it’s really love but it’s not. That’s when we get lost. And when I finally realized it and went looking for me, I found you. Through that chaos, and that disarray, there was a beauty that I found. I found the journey, and the path.. and then I realised that everything amazing that I saw in this life, was what you already had. From your light, the guidance you had… you had shone into our darkness. You had this thing that we needed to nurture within us and I saw it in just one glimpse. You had so much that I had missed out on my whole life and I already knew that you had something different. You have that ability to change people just by being with them… and I promise you, Khawlah, you are my navigation, my anchor and my absolute dream… and I never felt this way about anyone before. I wished with all my heart that I never did the things I did in my past… but what happened was a turning point in my life, and if it didn’t happen then I’m absolutely certain that I wouldn’t have been looking for the gold when I finally found you… ”

And I suppose that you couldn’t blame me when I just stood there and stared at Aadam like a stunned chicken, because there really was nothing that you could say back to someone who tells you crazy stuff like that. Now that, was the stuff. Real stuff that didn’t play.

“I just wanted you to know that,” he said softly, looking down a little shyly, almost as if he had just poured the entire contents of his heart out and had nothing left to leave. “I wished we could go back to five years ago and start all over again…”

I was still feeling a little breathless. I was blown away, amazed at how the promise of Allah worked… when you took that step towards Him…

Of course, my Allah had never abandoned me. No matter what. No matter when. Even in the future, no matter how deeply I would hurt. Soon… sooner than you think…

He grants you those things that will not just please you, but make your heart soar with untold joy…

The real stuff that not only makes the cut now, but is so intensely profound that it carries through to a completely different realm, beyond the present… to a Jannah that knows no pain…

I nodded meekly as Aadam searched my eyes openly, and then smiled as he came forward and planted a tiny kiss on my forehead. He knew me so well by now, that he could tell when he was off the hook.

“I just have one more request,” he said softly, as he stepped back. ”If you can tolerate this unruly husband of yours and you don’t mind giving him a chance to show you who he truly is… Will you come with me? There’s somewhere I really want to take you…”

---

Apologies for the delay. Hope it was a happy read !

(Btw: This was post number 200 on achancetochange.. Alhumdulillah.. Duaas always needed..)

Much Love,

A xx

Sunnah of Drinking Water:

Prophet Muhammad (Sallallaho Alaihi Wasallam) said, “Do not drink water only in one breath, but drink it in two or three breaths.”

Scientific studies show that there are many harmful effects in drinking water in one gulp. It can cause choking of esophagus. It especially weakens the muscles and nerves. It is also detrimental for the liver and stomach. Amazing, SubhaanAllah!

How easy to practise…!

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#revivetheSunnahofDrinkingWater 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

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Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

 

 

When the Tables Turn…

Bismihi Ta’ala

Rubeena

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And make an announcement amongst the inhabitants of the heaven:

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

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

[Al- Bukhari and Muslim].

SubhaanAllah…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course I wasn’t expecting anyone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He shrugged. He definitely was not even remotely himself.

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

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

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

Focus Ruby. Focus on Adam.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Never mind. More for me.

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

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

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

Especially mine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Errrrrr…”

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

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

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

“Mum-“ Adam started.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not as serious-“

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

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

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

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

---

 

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

Much Love,

A xx

 

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

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

 

FB: The Journeying Muslimah

Ig: thejourneyingmuslimah 

#revivetheSunnahofDrinkingWater 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

 

 

When things are not Pretty…

---

Bismihi Ta’ala

Rubeena

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

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

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

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

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

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

I mean, really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All I could think of was some really uncensored words.

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

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

”Yes,” I barked.

Bang went the spice drawer.

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

Clank went the chilli sauce on the counter.

I said nothing as I continued with my task.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shabeer smirked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where is Shabeer?”

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

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

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

It went something like this.

“How was your week, mum?”

Mum: Sulky face.

“Do you need help with anything?”

Mum: Shrugs shoulders.

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

Mum: Stony glare.

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

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

I wished he wasn’t such a suck up.

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

Adam was, to put it lightly, taken aback.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where did you say Shabeer was again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What I didn’t anticipate was what happened next.

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

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

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

Unfortunately, I was the only one that did…

“This is all your fault!”

---

Apologies for the late post 🌸 

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

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

#revivetheSunnahofJumuah

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#revivetheSunnahof Sleepingearly

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq

#missionsunnahrevival 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#revivetheSunnahofeating

Twitter @ajourneyjournal

Chasing History

Bismihi Ta’ala

Rubeena

There’s something that I’ve learnt during the past few months that will probably stick with me for life.

Nothing in this world is worth chasing. We spend our whole lives worrying about the future… planning for the future… trying to predict the future, as if it’s going to solve everything.

But the thing is, nothing is set in stone. The future is the home of our deepest fears and wildest hopes. There are so many possibilities… but one thing I know for sure is what comes with ease, is clearly what was always meant for you.

I had spent a major part of my adulthood chasing happiness. Contentment. Satisfaction. Everything else that I thought that would bring me all of the above and more. I couldn’t find it in my marriage, so I looked to my kids. When I couldn’t find it at home… I looked elsewhere.

And I wasn’t in this struggle alone. What I also knew was that many women in my circles went through the exact same thing. Sometimes we like to stay in the dark, because we feel there is still hope. Sometimes we prefer ignorance. For women like me, infidelity was normal behaviour for a man as ‘good looking and rich’ as my husband. I was made to understand that it was normal for men to do this at that age… To have this type of discontentment and insatiable appetite that their regular lives could never fulfil.

And I know that everything happens for a reason. Despite thinking how things might have been different if I had another baby coming… and how it would have magically fixed everything… I knew that there was so much of goodness in losing my fifth pregnancy and I couldn’t help but be grateful. Indeed, Allah was the greatest of Planners.

The thing is, even in this messed up life of mine… if anyone had to look at my life, I had everything.

We had everything… but we didn’t have true love. The type that truly changes your heart. The real kind. The love that was true and pure and stemmed from the Greatest Love of all. What I didn’t know was that true love was not meant to throw you off balance. It was not meant to make you feel like you couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t supposed to feel as if you were scrounging around for air, just trying to gather enough to fill you in the pursuit of one satisfying breath. I had no idea that when you love deeply enough, you actually had to hold up, because something magical and deeply moving happens inside of you. I didn’t know that when you truly love, you become a better person because of it…

And as I looked at my husband right now, I couldn’t help but wonder where everything had started to fall apart. Since when did I start losing myself in this? When did I start feeling deserted in this union? When did this thing we had once called a marriage… become anything but?

“So what do you have to say for yourself?” I asked Shabeer, tapping my foot on the ground as I awaited the answer he would give me today. I didn’t want to be harsh, but today, I was so done.

Zaydaan was entertaining himself with some junk on my phone. I had phoned Dayyaan and Zia’s school to ask them to keep them in after-care. I had sent my father to watch them, just to make sure that they were safe.

I had already been through the rushing around in a frenzy and figuring out exactly how this situation had come so close to an emergency. I had already called Shabeer and demanded him to find out where Hannah was. I was now past the stage of walking around hopelessly, trying to figure out how else I could protect my sons. The fact that now I processed that Danyaal was here, instead of some shady whereabouts where I would have had no idea about, the emotions were entirely different.

And I could not be grateful enough to Khawlah who had taught my son how to ‘bite’. I know I sound completely crazy, but in these years that Khawlah had spend with my kids, I was completely unaware that she had been teaching them that we do live in a dangerous world. Maybe it was her own upbringing. In my constant need to always ‘protect’ my kids, I never considered the reality. I never thought that this could ever happen. Not to my kids.

I was furious. Anxious. Absolutely crazy with worry. I wanted to get my hands around Hannah’s skinny neck and strangle the life out of her.

Okay, I know I sound psycho too, but you get my drift.

“Honestly, Ruby,” Shabeer said, looking exhausted. He looked like he had aged a hundred years. The bags under his eyes looked almost hollow and his usually attractive hair was looking more dull than ever before. Even his skin wasn’t looking as great as it used to. He probably needed a serious detox. All his dirty secrets were beginning to show on his face, and I’m sure he didn’t like it.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“I thought so,” I shot back, starting to pace.

To tell the truth, things between Shabeer and I were a bit awkward. We had done ‘the talk’. The one about our future and everything that was probably going to go down with us. He had said that he loved me. He had made it no secret that he had divorced Hannah, on my account… despite me not asking for that.

Honestly, all I think I had become was an excuse. He had made it seem as if he wanted to change his entire life to be with me as a family… yet when I looked at him, all I saw was that empty soul that I once knew. I stared at him as he came closer to me. I wasn’t sure how to feel.

Right now, I just couldn’t stomach him. I was so confused. Maybe it was all the hype and emotion, but I really wasn’t sure where to go from here.

And when it came to Hannah, I wished that I could do something about her problems, but I had no idea where to start. I knew she was an addict. Shabeer had let me know that in no uncertain terms. He had tried to play the innocent bystander but I knew he was more guilty than that.

I sighed as I popped in to the sick room to check on Danyaal. His arm was scraped by a bush he had ran into just after he managed to escape. I was so grateful that the school caretaker was just coming on duty at the time and saw him make a run for it, after screaming. The caretaker had tried to get Hannah, but she had escaped in a silver car. That was all we knew.

“Mum, stop looking so worried,” Danyaal said calmly, letting the school nurse bandage his arm carefully. “I’m okay. See, Allah took care of me.”

I nodded and swallowed. My son was so brave. Unimaginably. He had more faith than me.

I could just imagine what I looked like. I was still frantic. The thought of what could have happened was eating me alive.

“You know she looked exactly like Khawlah from the back?”

I turned to Danyaal, narrowing my eyes. That was exactly what Hannah was aiming for. She made me so mad. She was certainly obsessed with Khawlah and I wasn’t even sure why.

The police were already onto her. The security company had patrol cars searching the area. We had every base covered yet there was no word of where she may be. How was I going to sleep tonight? 

“I’ve got people at the flat,” Shabeer said, moving closet to me, sensing my concern. “And at her mums place. They’re looking for clues. We’ll find her, babe. Stop stressing. She can’t go far.”

What’s to stop her from trying again? With one of the other kids? What’s to stop her from coming home? I was beside myself with worry.

And just when I thought that things couldn’t get any worse, the sound of my mothers voice echoed through the foyer in utter despair… and I honestly wished I could crawl under the school bed and hide.

“Shabeer!” She cried, literally collapsing into my husbands arms as she saw us, heaving as she bawled her eyes out in devastation.

She glimpsed Danyaal sitting on the bed, and that was all it took to set her off all over again.

“Look what they did… our poor child..! What are we going to doooo?!”

Of course she would act like she was going through unprecedented agony. No-one else in the world was feeling emotional. Of course she would make this all about her. Typical of my mother. Never mind it was due to Shabeer’s idiotic choices that this had all happened… all my mother knew was to fling herself into the arms of the very man who was partly to blame here and make it all about her. Was I the only one who thought that the whole situation was completely messed up?

Shabeer was looking at me desperately, his eyes pleading with mine as he signalled for help. I turned away on purpose as my mother went on and on about how ‘we’ are going to deal with this, thinking it served him right.

Good, let him deal with her for once. I was tired of making excuses for him. The amazing part was that despite my mother knowing everything of Shabeer’s shenanigans, she still loved him to bits. It was crazy. Even I didn’t get as much affection as my womanising husband.

I ignored them as my phone buzzed with messages from Adam, as he drove back from a nearby riding grounds he used to attend as a kid. I knew he had taken Khawlah there and I did feel bad about dragging him back. I just needed my brother. He always had insight.. some advice to give.. or some amazing thing to say that I never thought of before.

He was still a good ten minutes away, though. He said that there was some way to track the car Hannah had come with, but he needed to be here to do it. He was talking about hacking some app that Hannah had on her phone and checking the last location…

It was all beyond my understanding. I planted a kiss on Danyaal’s forehead and took a seat so I could keep an eye on him. My mother collapsed into the seat opposite me dramatically. Shabeer looked relieved to be free, and I avoided eye contact with both of them as I heard him behind me, probably trying to decide what to say next.

”But how did she even get him outside?” Shabeer asked softly, careful not to let my mother hear. I didn’t tell him the full story. All I had managed to tell him was that Hannah had taken Danyaal and he had somehow managed to escape.

“Well, Khawlah’s name is on the list of people authorized to fetch him,” I said quietly, not needing to explain any more.

The secretary was absolutely distraught about the mistake. They were already putting new policies in place. As it was I could see the staff members milling around, stopping to ask if they found the getaway car as yet. It was a risk to the school as well.

”Oh shit, man,” Shabeer said, looking furious. “She did it again?”

His voice was getting louder and I cringed as he swore. My mothers sniffles were halting as she watched us, and I could already see her looking at us, now super curious.

I had to be careful with my mother. Anything was going to set her off. I could already see her looking around, like she was searching for some clues. Someone to blame. If she knew that it was Khawlah’s name that had been used, I knew it would be used as ammunition against my sister-in-law.

And of course, like Divinely sent, it was precisely at that moment when I glimpsed Adam race through the doorway, with Khawlah in quick pursuit. Shabeer got up as he saw them, and I could sense him getting a little edgy at their entrance.

“Did you call them?” He muttered, looking annoyed. I didn’t really care what he felt. Shabeer had a problem with most people who didn’t fall for his tricks. Of course, Adam headed straight for me, a look of absolute devastation on his face.

“Where’s Danyaal?”

I pointed to the room opposite us, and they both rushed in. It took them a few minutes, but as soon as I heard Danyaal’s laughter, my heart had already eased. Adam was here. He would sort it all out.

“I need a laptop Rubes,” he said, popping his head out and giving my mother a quick peck on the cheek. Of course she had been sitting there, all fussed up, until he acknowledged her.

I really had no words for her.

Khawlah had already taken Zaydaan from next to us, returned my phone and was entertaining him with some story about horses. He was mesmerized by her, and I was honestly not even sure how she did it.

Shabeer mumbled something about getting his PC from his car for Aadam, and I could spot my mother starting to whimper again, in feigned desperation. I could already tell that she was playing up because Adam was here.

”Ma, relax,” he was saying, trying to pry her hands off him. “Just keep reading, yeah? There’s nothing to worry about. We have to be grateful he’s okay.”

Here I was, all this time, sitting almost in limbo when all I had to do was use the sense that I had. Of course, there was no power here beyond Allah’s. Such a potentially dangerous situation had actually turned out to be okay. All we had to do was find Hannah. I was already feeling calmer after Adams words. I wasn’t sure how, but Adam just had an unbelievable knack of breaking down everyone’s issues and taking them on. He wasn’t afraid to get right in there, and he knew exactly how to make it all okay.

I turned to the door to wait for Shabeer, already feeling calmer as I read, hoping for the best of the situation. Shabeer was already rushing back with his laptop and Adam hastily tapped into it, as we waited in anticipation.

Each moment felt like hours. I could see Adam concentrating as he crouched on the low lying couch, frowning as he ferociously typed away. He was exceptionally good with computers and I stood mesmerised as he worked away, as one link lead to the other and another…

Khawlah stood diligently at his side with Zaydaan. He was murmuring something to her as he worked, and now that I was calmer and watched them, I was so much in awe of how the two of them just connected with each other. And as Shabeer nudged me from the side, I followed his gaze to where my mother sat, getting a shock as I glimpsed the look of pure vexation on her face.

I can assure you, if her eyes could narrowed any more, there would have probably been laser beams emitting from them. The fact that the two of them worked so efficiently, almost as if they were one person… so in synch with each other,  was probably what got her most. I was actually beginning to think that she resented seeing my brother happy. My mother was looking crazily scary as she stared Khawlah down, and though Shabeer and I could not miss this obvious insecurity of hers… the disturbing fact was that my poor brother was completely oblivious to it all. Even the school nurse had left the room, making some excuse, but I could tell that she sensed exactly that. The tension was that palpable.

My mother was literally piercing his wife with her eyes and Adam knew nothing. And it wasn’t just because he was concentrating. Adam would never ever assume that my mother had an evil streak that could potentially mess up his entire marriage. He would probably just smile his usual cock-eyed-eyebrow grin and say that she didn’t mean any harm. That was Adam, and sometimes I wanted to twist his ear in a most innocuous way, just so he could wake his damn case up. My mother was trouble.

I watched them, as Adam grinned at something Khawlah had said, I couldn’t help but let it digest. This was precisely what got to my mother. The comfort. The contentment. It was possible that she never felt it before. There’s was a bond that I couldn’t even comprehend… because it was just so easy. Truly happy, God-fearing, faithful couples make each other better people. They overlook faults. They work together through thick and thin.

Hell, they even overlook the very obvious death stares of a completely unreasonable mother-in-law.

I sighed, wishing I could do something to just get her to stop. To ease off. They were so happy.

It took a few minutes of discomfort, and as Adam rubbed his temples and sat back, I had an inkling that he had maybe given up on his task. My heart dropped momentarily.

“Khawlah, please check my phone,” he said eventually, glancing at her. “It should send a location.”

My heart was hammering in my chest now as he said it, realizing what it meant. He had found Hannah. Shabeer had already taken his phone out to call someone. Khawlah obediently looked up, and as she started to call out the address, she suddenly halted in mid-sentence as her voice broke… almost as if she was choking.

She thrust the phone at me, taking a seat as she covered her head in her hands spontaneously. It was really strange to see, because Khawlah was barely the dramatic type. I could hear Adam whispering something to her, and as I watched them, I could already see that something was up.

Shabeer was already on the phone with someone, instructing them to get there ASAP. I was all ready to leave with him as I grabbed my hand bag… before Khawlah’s voice spoke out..

“Wait,” she said suddenly, softly, but loud enough for us to hear.

Everyone in the room turned to her. Adam was sitting next to her with an open laptop and a worried look on his face. Zaydaan was sitting happily on the edge of his upper lap. Shabeer was looking irritated. I was confused.

My mother…well, she was just looking like her usual discontent self, as happened whenever she saw my brother and his wife together.

“Listen, tell them to wait,” she said, closing her eyes momentarily as she said it. “The address… it’s somewhere I know really well. It’s the house that we stayed at as kids. There’s a reason Hannah went there.”

I halted in my tracks as I looked at her, quite perplexed by this revelation. I knew that Hannah and Khawlah had some connection but I never did know that they had stayed together as kids. It was something she never spoke about to me, and neither did Hannah. I never delved into their history. I guess everyone had some skeletons in the closet. Although my mothers eyes were popping out in complete bewilderment, this revelation explained a lot. It might even explain Hannah’s unfailing obsession with Khawlah, that was even beyond human reason.

“I don’t think anyone else should go,” she said carefully, biting her lip and looking at Adam. “I have a feeling this is about me. I need to be the one to do this.”

---

 

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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#missionsunnahrevival 

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Twitter @ajourneyjournal