Moments of Vulnerability

Bismihi Ta’ala

Zubair

Part 80

The world at large, but more specifically our menial lives, revolve around an information overload where the accounts and stories of awe-inspiring bravery have ceased to feature.

Whilst we get off on dopamine hits induced by arrays of pointless pictures on our Instagram feeds, we are starved of the splendour that once filled the pages of history.

The desire and restlessness that once raged within the hearts of the Sahabah have become text book incidents to us. We are foreign to a concept that entails extinguishing personal desire for lighting a longing for everlasting pleasure.

Martyrdom has, and always will be, the masterpiece of all man’s greatness. Their agonising and heartbreaking stories are a light amidst the darkness of this world. Meeting Hamzah for me, brought this alive. His spirit brought out something in me that stemmed from a selfless courage… something that I had forgotten about over the past few months.

And whilst every martyr attains unmeasurable closeness to Allah Ta’ala, the honourable title of Sayyidus Shuhadaa (RA) was awarded by Nabi (Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam) only to the highest and most honoured of all of them… Sayyidina Hamzah (RA). There was something about meeting my real life Hamzah, that kindled a flame within me once again… a flame that would serve to rage on, to face everything head on, fearlessly, like the men I’d read about and always admired.

Despite the monster I had once been, I knew and lived the rule that nothing is as more important but the pleasure of Allah… and now, I was done with being scared, slinking away and hiding from the past.

I pulled out the dagger I kept with the saying that filled me with vigour and determination, placing it on the bed next to me to remind me that like the blessed heart of Nabi (sallahu alaihi wa Sallam) was uneasy with a desire and craving for martyrdom, so too should mine. Nothing should scare me.

It was a risky step I was scared to take before this, because if my uncle had to get wind of it, it could be dangerous. Yes, I felt scared and vulnerable right then but I needed to overcome it.

How long was I going to continue being scared for? Taking this step with my future wife, going all out to embrace what would be half my Deen, should never make me feel more fearful. In fact, it gave me that much more strength to do the right thing.

“Joe,” I said roughly into the phone, pulling on my best jeans and watching myself in my sisters room mirror cynically as I got ready. I looked so unlike the man I felt like inside. I could practically feel my heart pounding as I thought of what today would hold. “I need your help and you can’t say no.”

I had been at my sisters apartment from the morning because she insisted, and I couldn’t say no when she asked. She wanted to spend my final moments before marriage with me, but she was so busy fussing over wedding things that she was barely present.

”Your uncle says you’re not with him anymore.”

It was a simple sentence from the guy at the end of the line, but just hearing it from him made me angry.

So angry, despite knowing that I would hear that and trying to kill that very anger that would come up every time I heard of of my uncle meddling in my life.

What right did my uncle have to interfere in my relationships? Yes, we used Joe often for his contacts and to sort out paperwork we would need to figure out who the rats in our networks were, but I was the one who introduced Joe to him to do that for us. Joe and I were school friends before we did business together. We go way back.

It wasn’t that I admired my past, but it was what it was and every person I had met along the way had helped shape me into the person I was.

”Does it matter?” I muttered, plopping on the bed as I put the phone on speaker and pulled on the new pair of spotty socks Nusaybah bought me to wear with my new Kurta.

”I’ll call you back,” he said after a few seconds, and I wanted to give him a mouthful about shoving me off, but I knew I shouldn’t.

“You’d better,” I threatened mildly, knowing that Joe didn’t say things that he didn’t usually mean.

And it was just as well that I was in good mood that day, because I might have taken the half hour drive to his place to shake him up instead.

But today… I had more important things to do… and I couldn’t believe that this day had come.

That I was actually marrying her. The girl that I had been trying so hard not to freak out by ogling her as she would be sitting at the garden bench reading, or tending to her new plants, or working diligently in the coffee shop kitchen as if he life actually depended on it. I had spent months pretending to be ignoring her, when all I wanted to do was go up to her and ask her if their was ever a possibility of this day ever coming.

And here it was. I had told her that I was striving to be better, but I was having to dig up pieces of my past to do so.

I breathed in, knowing that I had to be forceful in my tactics now, even when I hated it. I hated this side of me that was all hard and rigid and rooting for a fight, but I hated the other side more. I hated knowing that now, I would have more than just myself at risk. Knowing that I couldn’t always control things and other people close to me made me feel vulnerable like never before.

I splashed the water in my face and made my whudhu, hoping to calm my fiery spirits with it. It went without saying that I was a little edgy. I needed to resort to my Lord… to sit on that Musalla and pray to Him, the Most High, because come what may, He was the only One who held a solution. This was a big step but it was what I wanted.

I prayed with an aching fervency because I wanted this to all be okay. I wanted to tame the wild beast in me, to calm my spirits to someone who could actually be worthy of this new role that I was going to take in life. I wanted the people who were going to become my family to always stay safe and protected form what haunted me.

I wanted to change my old ways, and turn a new page in my life. I wanted to be worthy of a husband. Of a father, hopefully, someday too. A resolution that was way more than I ever imagined, but the aching need in me was persistent.

I wanted to be a sterling example, like Nabi (Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam) was and forever will be. I wanted to be such that even when I face my uncle who had done unmentionable things to me, I wanted to be so good to him that he would be moved by my character alone. This was the journey that I was willing to take for my own betterment.

This family had inspired me. Jameela had made me want to change. She made me want to be better. It was by her acceptance of me that made me want to strive for even more now.

Character. It was the only thing that would define me now, and that’s what had been the trump card in her eyes.

My phone rang at that point, snapping me out of my thoughts and bringing me back to the present.

I needed to leave for the Nikah- my Nikah- in ten minutes, but I knew that every minute was precious.

Hamzah was trying not to disturb me this week but I knew that if I didn’t confirm that final thread of information that had just occurred to me that morning, all that I’ve been helping him with would be futile.

None of it seemed worth it if by the end of this, Hamzah and his wife didn’t work things out. There was no way that I could rest if I knew that there was something I could do to save their marriage, and didn’t.

I breathed our with relief as Joe agreed to my favour, and I tried convincing him that what I was onto was going to change someone’s life. Judging from the first time I saw Faadil, all those months back outside his apartment building, I could tell that he was up to something. The way my uncle spoke to Faadil, made me realise that that Porsche that caused the incident to erupt out of control was going to lead to much more than that.

And despite knowing that Faadil and my uncle had been in contact over the few months, I never really knew what the relationship was. I knew that my uncle worked with him to uncover money. When I cut myself off of him, I didn’t want to find out. But now, from everything I had found out, I had an idea that Faadil had framed himself to get back at Mohsina, and I just needed the final thread to prove it.

“I’ve tried asking around,” I said in a level tone, thinking of the conversation I had with Nusaybah’s best friends brother. “Ahmed can’t help. He would if he could but he doesn’t do this anymore because of his family commitments. I know it’s risky but you’re my last hope, Joe. I need to know how the evidence came to the knowledge of the company. I want to know if Faadil framed himself.”

If was the only thing that made sense. Yes, Faadils reputation would be at stake if he framed himself but if he dragged Mohsina’s name in it with him, it may be a completely different motive. If may either mean that he would try to shove all blame on to her, or it could be that they’ll go down together, which would help him to earn her trust and then rebound again.

The latter seemed more plausible right then and I knew that I had to tell Hamzah but there was barely any time left and I was going to be late for my own Nikah if I didn’t hurry the hell up.

I told Joe that Hamzah would pay anything for clearance of his wife’s name, and money wasn’t an issue. It seemed to do the trick.

We settled on a price and that’s how I found myself walking out to my brother-in-law Faheem’s car, after Nusaybah clung to me for at least 2 entire minutes for dear life, my mind trying to focus on what exactly was going down that day. She finally let me go with tears swimming in her dark eyes, and my niece tugging restlessly on her cloak.

”Smelling good,” Faheem commented in his swanky British accent as I finally entered the car. “You ready?”

Faheems voice was light but clear, almost jolting me out of my train of thought as he watched me from the corner of his eye. Him and my sister being here was more than I could ever ask for. I knew that my father wouldn’t come but I still hoped. I really wanted him to make an appearance. I had stopped by his place in the week and left an invite in the postbox. I knew he got it because I waited behind the next house wall to how long after he would come and take the mail I left every day.

I nodded as I watched him drive on, not really wanting to talk yet. After the Nikah, things would feel more relaxed. It was a low key affair. I asked for it to be as private as possible, because of how many enemies I had made along the way. My uncle had been trying to get hold of me and I knew that he had more work for me with promising financial incentives, but I was refusing to relent.

I wanted to leave that life completely, and start afresh with a purer intent in mind.

More than anything, I wanted this to stay out of my uncles knowledge, so I wouldn’t have to worry about protecting Jameela before we got married.

After marriage, I was sure to do anything to keep her safe from my history.

I breathed in as I looked ahead, drumming my fingers together as I tried to control my nerves. Faheem wasn’t much of a talker, which made sense, because my sister spoke enough for the both of them. I looked out the window, watching the cars pulling up for Asr salaah, feeling a pit in the bottom of my stomach, but not because of what lay ahead. I was worried. Scared that something may go wrong.

“Stop looking so aggro.”

Aggro. It was Nusaybah’s word that I never quite understood the meaning of.

I glanced at Faheem as he turned off the ignition, closing my eyes briefly as I tried to recollect my thoughts. There was so much going on in my mind. I needed to switch it off.

“I’m not,” I said, pushing the door open and meeting my brother-in-laws eye. “I’m just worried that things may not all go that smoothly. I have a reputation for inviting trouble. You know that.”

We were walking toward the mosque, and even with a handgun strapped to my ankle, I knew that I was always at risk.

And don’t get me wrong. It wasn’t that I was afraid of dying. Not in the way most people were.

I had faced it head on, seen it way too many times to be afraid that way. What I was scared of was what would come after. I was scared of how my Lord would deal with me, after everything I had done. I was scared that my repentance wasn’t good enough, or sincere enough. But in the same breath, I lived with the blossoming hope that in death, it was the only place that I would find complete freedom from the life I had lived in this deranged world.

“They’re just people, you know,” Faheem said quietly, his accent a little less pronounced as he lowered his voice. “People who have power in this world maybe, but don’t forget that Allah is in control of everything else and He sees you. He sees you, bro. He sees that you’ve changed and you’re trying to be better. You think he’s not going to take care of you when you’re taking one of the biggest steps to make it all right?”

I glanced at him as we entered the building, emotion welling up in my eyes as I shook my head, my heart now beating a little more steadily as I approached the place where I would read Salaah. I didn’t want to believe that I was worthy of anything good. I didn’t want to let myself believe that it would all be okay. For me, I rather expect the worst and then get surprised at the best…

And oh yes, I wished for the best. In every way, and my heart was filled with anticipation for what lay ahead as the Salaah commenced.

The Nikah was scheduled to be after Asr and as crowds came in for the prayer, and then left again, giving me a clear sight of Maulana Khalid as he spoke to someone ahead, I knew that the time for me to pull up my socks and get to the front was right then. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion. People were mulling out steadily, and as I gazed at my shaky hands, I felt as if time had stood still.

And though I knew Maulana from when I was younger, he was well aware of my past and where it had led me, and now, he accepted me wholeheartedly without any judgement.

I could see Muhammed Husayn around the outskirts, and Jameela’s father approaching the front with two other men. Eyes were on me as I slowly walked up to the small crowd, knowing that this was going to be one of the most defining moments of my life.

I breathed in as I offered a greeting to them all, staying silent as Maulana Khalid introduced himself and then looked at me as if to check if I was ready.

And it was one of those moments when I seriously felt like throwing in the towel and running out of there, not because of what lay ahead for me, but because it only then when reality came crashing down on me like never before.

There was no one who deserved this less than I. My father wasn’t there, although I had hoped he would be. It was just a reminder that I would never be good enough. The truth was glaring at me as I watched Maulana hug my brother-in-law, who was also his cousin-in-law, and then turn to my future father-in-law with praises for me.

I couldn’t quite believe that I was hearing all these complimentary things coming from his mouth, where he spoke as if I was someone great. Hamzah was grinning stupidly as he said it, but I believed none of it when he pulled me to him, telling me that I was such an amazing kind of human for changing my life around the way I had.

All I knew was that this was all just for now, and when they found out what I was really like, they would quickly learn the truth about me. I didn’t know that they would look at me, as the Nikah started, with all this joy and expectation, and the only thing that kept me rooted to the spot was the thought of having a wife like Jameela who would somehow make this all make sense once again.

I wasn’t even sure how I got through the proceedings. I mean, I remembered the shivery nerves and the Maulana asking all the relevant questions. I had agreed, and I had said the binding words with a certainty that would define my life, but it didn’t change the fact that throughout it all, I still felt like I was floating.

I could feel my phone buzzing in my pocket as the small crowd came forward to greet me. I forgot about everything else for that time, living in the moment as everyone hugged and congratulated me as if this great achievement was all due to my own doing. The gratitude in my heart at that moment was insurmountable.

All I knew was that Allah Ta’ala had come through for us in a way that I never imagined. I was filled to the brim with amazement and my heart was literally bursting with pride as I found myself being guided out by my new brother-in-law, who was having a field day with Faheem at my expense.

”He’s ours now, bru,” Hamzah said with a smile as he slung his hand over my shoulder. I couldnt help but wonder how he was still smiling, despite knowing what would be the result of his own marriage very soon. “We’ll take over from here.”

Faheem grinned back, slapped my back and nodded his head.

”My wife says you’re welcome to him,” he said with a wink, looking at his phone. “No returns or exchanges.”

I knew they were joking but the tightness in my chest was still very evident. What if Jameela regretted this? What if the family realised that letting me into their little unit was the worst mistake of their lives?

The banter continued as we drove the short distance to the farm, me trying to keep my nerves at bay as we entered the farm driveway that had become home to me.

There were a few cars parked in the driveway, but knowing that this was going to be a small, private affair, I didn’t think too much of it. Winning Jameela’s Nani over was going to be a challenge, but I was going to do what it took. I could already see her from where we parked, and I couldn’t help but feel a wave of uncertainty overcome me as my father in law, Hamzah and Muhammad Husayn hopped off the car, and waited for  me to join. I already felt like part of the family and I didn’t deserve it.

I shook my head as I tried to dispel all negative emotions, doing the usual meeting and greeting with a few other family men who had just come in from the mosque.

Guided by Hamzah, I could feel his hand on my back as we waded through the people, making our way to Jameela’s family for a quick greeting, before Mohsina appeared from the passage behind the kitchen. I could barely remember who I saw, because I could think of nothing else besides the woman who I had been waiting for months to be alone with.

I wasn’t the type to get all flustered and tongue-tied. I’d seen way too much in life to let myself be swayed by such elementary thoughts.

After so long, it felt like my resolve was finally going to be diminished, and I was quite sure that once I saw her, all noble intentions of easing her into this new relationship would be dissolved.

Mohsina had already gestured to us to meet them down the passage, and as Hamzah gave me the go-ahead to pass through, it felt as if my legs were transporting me all by themselves. Somehow, being here, closer to Jameela, was giving me a courage I never knew I had. Without even realising how, I found myself in front of a room door, hearing about three female voices behind it, and knowing that I would probably have to wait a few minutes before they were entirely ready.

I knew women and their obsession with everything being perfect. After all, I had Nusaybah as a sister and semi-mother. I smiled as I heard a few hushed words and then a sudden screech, before muffled voices came closer to the door.

They were still dilly-dallying around the entrance of the room, and as I remembered my phone in my pocket, and the call I had made just before I went to the masjid.

The last thing I wanted right now in this moment was to be worrying, but Hamzah had done so much for me, and I couldn’t let him down. I knew that I had to be less selfish. I’d have to speak to him properly, to let him know about the latest developments, but as I slid my phone out of my pocket, all thoughts about Hamzah were already sidelined.

The messages were just a few, and besides Nusaybah’s emotional words that took me a full thirty seconds to scroll through, and a few other uneventful updates from Joe, my eyes immediately fell on the message from the unknown number.

I didn’t even have to slide it open to see it, and I could already feel my heart rate escalating. It was short, but it had the desired effect.

Congratulations son. 

I always hated when my uncle called me son. I wasn’t his son, and I would never be.
He never treated me like one, and this time, I needed to show him that I wasn’t that young boy that he used to lock up and control, to make himself feel strong.

It was at the point of my increasing fury that the door opened, and light immediately streamed into the passage my senses as I glanced up at the two females with Mohsina who were making their way out, stepping back and looking down again so they could pass.

I slid my phone back into my pocket, in anticipation for who I would be seeing next, but my consumed mind was still on the remainder of the unsettling message that I had glimpsed just moments before.

It was evident that it was a threat.

Heard that you are a married man now.
Enjoy it while it lasts.

---

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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Greener Pastures

Bismihi Ta’ala

Jameela

Part 50

No-one’s life is perfect.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#nofilterneeded

 

Beep.

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

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

Her response was as expected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The horse was not actually giving me any solution.

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

Beep.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I was honestly peeved at her rudeness.

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

Motor-bike food. Guilty as charged.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She had a point there.

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

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

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

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

Source: Sunan al-Tirmidhī 1961

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

My sister smiled, looking genuinely happy.

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

“What’s going on?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

Mission Sunnah Revival

Sunnah of being thankful

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

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

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

Someone asked Ali (RA): 

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

 

The Lion Within

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 37

Hamzah

There’s just something about the great warriors of the past that stand out for me, like nothing else can compare. A task, never for the faint-hearted, for those who die in Allah’s path, the Mujaahid sacrifices pleasures, treasures and every desire he has, for the pleasure of Allah.

In what is known to be a meeting with the true Beloved, a break-free from the shackles of life and an attainment of sublime status… there comes a time where it becomes essential for the the true Lions of Allah to make their show at the forefront.

Now and again, when the state of the world becomes such that corruption is rife, and peace and harmony becomes rare… when truth and integrity are trampled upon… we are reminded that amongst all the modes of death, martyrdom, in the way of Allah, is truly the most excellent and unsurpassed.

And do not say about those who are killed in the way of Allah, “They are dead.” Rather,

“They are alive but you perceive not.” (Surah Baqarah: verse 154) 

And in the verse is just one reminder of the undying status of the Shuhudaa, but others came at me in many forms and shapes over those weeks that I was away, as the pungent smell of gun powder and smoke settled thickly in the air as I trudged up the alley on that day which I hadn’t yet known would be the last.

As a reaction to what had just happened, as a blast hit the centre of Sanaa, many were fleeing upwards in an attempt to move away from the hot spots. The city was divided into two territories, and through the piling up rumble of the red zone, my eyes settled on a fully-clad woman kneeling over an injured man, my heart felt like it had been subjected through way too much over the past two weeks to even feel anything significant.

The truth though, was that this war-stricken reality was really unparalelled. An awakening for the soul in slumber, a means for the lion within to make his show, I turned my gaze as we kept walking, noting the sound of the protests of young warriors, chanting against the continuations of the Saudi-led coalition, where Houthi members were said to dominate the area.

Young soldiers, underage, were loitering around, or moving back to their posts. Education, for them, was a distant dream. To defend their country, their town, their home… was their honour.

And once all the fending off was done, as I looked around me, smiling faces could be seen now.

When all was quiet again, Abdellah, who stood at the gate near our motel would smile and say: “Maafi Mushkila”, meaning no problem, in Arabic- a sentence that Yemenis would repeat constantly, even in the worst situations one could imagine.

And as I reached him, Mohsin too, turned to me with a wink, and a cynical smile on his face as we walked along.

”That one scared you, didn’t it?” He said in his refined South African accent, the movements of his brisk walk creating a swishing sound as we walked through another silent alley.

The drone attack just a few minutes back was sudden and unexpected. It was the second time in the last two weeks and this time, we were out on the open, with nowhere really to take cover.

It was a lucky escape, but it gave me an insight on the reality of life once again, as a resident in a war torn country. Even for the lucky ones, who have access to essentials, life here was quite unbelievable…

I looked around me as sunlight streamed through dusty windows of deserted shops. The warm lighting reminded me of India, where I had been once on a holiday with my parents as a teenager. I remembered places I visited for their light, but the circumstances were worlds apart though and as we trudged along, me checking my phone for the 15th time that hour, signal and the concept of time was still completely non-existentent.

The sound of gunshots had ceased for a few minutes now, and all I heard was the intermittent but undeterred shouts of passers by, as they slipped back into their routine. Passing through a new neighborhood now, my mood instantly lifted as l spotted a dingy store that sold coffee and had a cardboard board written ‘WiFi’ on its window.

I nudged him as we passed, and Mohsin, being Mohsin, immediately saw my need for connection in this war-torn suburb.

Even though he had been out of South Africa for years, he was the kind of guy who, as soon as I met him, just clicked with me. I tried to ignore the fact that his name was one letter short of my ex-fiancé’s, even though it may have had some significance, but as soon as Maulana Umar’s brother Yusuf had introduced us, from the onset, our friendship had already taken off. For almost ten days now, Mohsin and I were already almost inseparable.

And it didn’t matter that he looked like a complete misfit here, with his European skin tone, blonde beard and green eyes. Mohsin was as comfortable as a local, because his passion for journalism, his deep desire to search for truth, had forced him to settle here and live amongst the people that he claimed to be a part of, that nothing stirred him.

After studying Arabic in Jordan and Madinah, he had completed a number of Islamic courses before going into journalism. I would say that he was as learned as many scholars, but he hadn’t yet finished his Aalim course. The amazing part though was that he was in no rush to.  He always said that for him, as a revert, his journey was never enough… and his pursuit would continue until he dies. It was an unusual way to look at life, but it made me see everything around me in a different light too.

And as he spoke to to the guy in Arabic and retrieved the WiFi password in the dingy corner shop, we took a seat on their rusted metal chairs and ordered their pungent local coffee as the sound of men talking jovially around us continued.

For a minute, as I listened to the noises around me, it felt almost as if we were in some other place, where there was peace and joy, and the daily living of these people were barely affected by the bombing and conflict that was always in the backdrop.

For a moment, the atmosphere felt unhindered, almost as if I was in a cheerful suburb back home, as money moved from hand to hand, and people smiled and shared what they had. It felt almost like we were in a place where Shiasm and Sunni-ism didn’t exist as a new dimension that they were now brainwashed over fighting over…

And as usual, as we sat, one could never enjoy food alone, in a place like Yemen. Two men had already come up to the table and Mohsin entertained them unreservedly, offering a genuine smile whilst chatting seriously first about this mornings events before they all broke out into laughter about something I didn’t quite understand… and to tell the truth, would probably never fully get.

How they smiled and laughed amidst all this, was beyond me. How they would welcome, with open arms, anyone who crossed their path, was something I had yet to see in the western world that I had become so accustomed to growing up in..

The thoughts hounded me incessantly as I glanced around, glimpsing the streaky skyline through the obscured window, instantly wondering why I just didn’t stay here forever, before the WiFi finally connected and all else was immediately forgotten. I delved into my phone, seeing iMessage after iMessage come through, now breaking slightly into a sweat as I read the messages that had come through two hours ago . Mohsin and his two newly found friends were drowned out as I flipped through, not believing what I was reading, as I dialled Imraans phone, hoping against hope that he would answer.

It was almost midnight in South Africa and my heart was doing things that I couldn’t quite control. Liyaket had been in a severe accident. Layyanah had passed away just a while after. It was like my entire world was crashing around me, as these people around me tried to rebuild their own…

“I have to go,” I said to Mohsin, getting up suddnely, knowing that I had to try and get myself back on a flight.

”So soon?” The one local guy said in English.

I shook my head, unable to speak.

Mohsin immediately excused us, and I could see him hastily handing over some local currency to the shop owner before we headed out again.

“Something’s happened?” He said, and it was barely even a question.

“My best friends been in an accident,” I managed to get out, as I walked as speedily I could toward the little motel we were all staying at. It was still a ten minute walk away. “I need a flight home as soon as I can…”

“I’ll sort it,” he said, instantly picking up his own locally connected phone and dialling someone who he spoke to with purpose, and then turned back to me.

“Can you get to the airport in an hour?” He asked, as I glanced at them time.

I nodded. The airport wasn’t too far from where were were staying, and if all checkpoints were easily passable, we could be in luck.

I could hear him confirming something as I gave him credit card details and made my way up to my room to hastily pack up whatever was lying around it was a haze of events and a whirlwind of emotion as I greeted Molvi, Yusuf and the two other guys who had joined us, promising them I’d see them at home as they sent me off with the most amazing Duaas…

They still had a few days left before they would leave, and as the flight took off, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of displacement as I left, my heart completely torn now between this amazing place that had stolen my heart and the situation at home that I wasn’t yet quite certain of where it was heading.

And as I eventually touched down in Jo’burg, almost ten hours later, the message about Liyaket’s passing came like a torrent of emotion, almost knocking the wind out of me completely.

إَِّنالَِّلِهَوإَِّناإَِلْيِهَراِجُعْوَنَالَّلُهَّمْأُجْرنِْىِفْىُمِصْيَبتِْىَوَأْخِلْفلِْىَخْيًراِمْنَها

(Innaa lillahi wa innaa ilayhi raaji’oon. Allahumma’jurni fee museebatee wa akhlif lee khayram minha)
Verily we belong to Allah, and to Him will we return. O Allah, reward me for undergoing this difficulty and loss, and grant me something better in replacement for what I have lost.

I sat, in my aeroplane seat, unable to move, as I let it all sink in. How short is this life that we behave like we are living forever?

How foolish was man, that here we were, still unyielding in our pursuit of this world.

And despite it all, I had made it just in time. It was almost as if Allah had kept him back in this world, just a little longer, for me to return in time to see him off. With the hospital protocol and trying to get out of the post-mortem, the Janazah was already set for two hours time and although I knew that it was going to be heart-wrenching, there was a little relief in the fact that I would be there for the final parting.

And yes, life is painful at times. Like a sudden punch in the stomach, losses are devastating, to say the least. Tragedy pulls at our heartstrings even long after the blow has hit. Difficulties and tests and trials are meant to polish us and rebuild our bond with our Creator .. to bring us to the ultimate… because that’s when Allah gives us the reward.

And as the news hit me, I couldn’t help but think of Mohsin’s words. Where we had just been, of course, was somewhere that martyrs were honoured. They had, in essence, given their lives for a cause… for the people… for Allah, and this too.. what Liyaket had endured was very much the same status.

As one of the Shuhadaa… what a way to leave this world. The most honoured, by far, martyrdom was the desire and purpose of a true believer.

And there was my friend, in all his glory, on what I hoped would be his best day yet. He was one of those who left behind this entire world too, as I lowered myself into the six-foot deep hole to assist , holding him close to me for the last time, before he would be left alone forever.

The grief right then was overwhelming, and I felt my shoulders shake almost involuntary as we shovelled the first lot of earth onto his calico-clad body, barely able to hold myself back any longer.

At that point, it was wave after wave when the grief came at me, like never before, as I made my way to my car, doubled over, unable to digest what had just happened, because I just couldn’t believe it all.

It wasn’t that long ago when Liyaket and I, as jovial school boys, bared our souls to each other, pouring out our hearts and shared the greatest dreams of distant futures that had become the recent past way too fast…

There he was, as I pictured him again , like a film rolling through the years where it would feature my best friend with the most memorable times of all. In my minds eye, he was forever full of life. Best academic of the year. Full of charm and optimism.
Sterling cricket player. The greatest personality. Academic Dux award. Superb colleague. Full of sincerity. Most dedicated team mate. Bestest buddy a guy could ever have.

Most of all… the most extraordinary influence that completely changed my life.

Because with all these worldly achievements, which had never come without the most stringent of effort, it still wasn’t the most influential thing I learnt from him.

The greatest thing yet was the eagerness that he possessed to change everything… his entire life, just so that he could have a chance to do it right… and once again, I was so grateful that there was so much I had taken from him, as he grew, and with him, I did too.

I wondered for a moment if the lessons and memories of him would stay that way or if they would fade as the years went by…

The waves of emotion had ceased and I finally breathed in deeply, not even thinking further. Not wondering about what comes after this, or what may lay ahead …

All I knew as I finally reached home after the longest day I ever felt, was to lay my head on my pillow and forget about the events that had literally turned my world upside down that day. I was exhausted, mentally, emotionally and physically… and for those few hours, I sought refuge in the serenity of slumber, as I sunk deeper and deeper into a realm where reality was very, very far from me.

I awakened, drenched in sweat hours later, starving and perplexed by the array of  voices I could hear from down the passage. I threw back the pale grey duvet cover, laying there for a minute as I took me a few moments before everything came back into focus once again… and the truth of this life made its ugly head apparent once again in my mind.

Death was savage. Hardest on the living. It was a reminder for the the most complacent, that everything in this world, one day, will mean nothing.

And yes, it breaks homes, and yes, it shatters souls. It is awful and painful, yet only a reality that we have to face. As if it was ripped apart, my heart will never be the same again.

My heart sunk as I remembered my friend, his wife, and his child whom I still hadn’t gotten news of yet, but knew I had to check on.

It contracted painfully, yet again, as the memory resurfaced, as I pulled myslef up to leave the room, almost still in a daze as I shielded my eyes with my hand, trying to protect it from the offensive burst of daylight that poured through the passage window.

I could hear Imraan and my mother speaking in low tones as I walked down the passage. He had been here for the funeral and had probably stayed over for the night.

Pulling my kurta over, I knew that I also had to make my way back to the funeral house, to see if they needed anything else, and as I walked over to my mother to greet her, she held on tightly to me, obviously knowing the turmoil that I was still feeling as I still struggled to accept Liyaket’s death.

He had, throughout our high school and university careers, been like an additional member of this home. The loss was something that we all felt together, but as I pulled back and breathed in after my mothers and brothers comforting words, there was something about the words they had said that gave me an immense sense of peace.

Allah Ta’ala never takes anything from us without granting us a better substitute. What better substitute can there be than the love of Allah Ta’ala and His togetherness, which  will only be attained with sabr (patience) and expectations of rewards. As for those who have passed on, what could be better for them than to be cared for and pampered by Allah Ta’ala, in the most beautiful of places?

And they were right. Of course, he was in a better place. He was, after all, of the Shuhudaa, the ones whom Allah had favoured immensely with a gift that not many can easily attain. He had changed so much of his life, and reached Allah at a place where there wasn’t much question about how he would reach Him…

Time, right? Time is all it would take. Time heals all wounds. Time eases all pain.

And as I eased myself into the meal, forcing myself to nourish my body after it’s ordeal, I could see my sister hanging around in the background, almost as if she wasn’t quite sure how to strike up conversation. Her expression was morbid, as she sat next to me, offering me a sympathetic hug and a wavering smile as she watched me eating, without saying much else.

My mother had dished out a generous serving of curry and rice that I was unashamedly tucking into when Rabia suddenly looked at me, as if she couldn’t bear keeping silent any longer, because it just wasn’t in her nature to keep things inside, she turned to my mother and said:

“So you didn’t tell him yet, did you?”

And it went without saying that she immediately had my attention, as I swallowed the last bit of rice that was in the front part of my plate, and held it out for another serving.

And for someone who didn’t feel like eating much, I didn’t quite realise how much I had missed home food.

I glimpsed my mother shooting Rabia an unreadable glance as she took my plate. Even Imraan, who was sitting on the couch nearby, waiting for me to finish eating before heading out again, was shifting in his seat slightly uncomfortably.

“Tell me what,” I said, taking a sip of water as I looked at them both.

Rabia obviously wasn’t getting any hints to tone down with her conversation, or frankly didn’t care.

“Let’s not worry about that now,” my mother said. “We can talk about it later in the week.”

”Mum, please,” Rabia said, sounding peeved at the very idea of postponing whatever she was on about. “He has a right to know Mohsina was here.”

Wait. Did she say Mohsina? Or maybe she meant Mohsin?

Was I just too tired to hear properly. Did he call? What was even going on?

I was probably still too tired to even process…

”Who?” I said, as if to clarify. I didn’t know what else to say. The ‘white guy’ sounded a bit offensive.

“Mohsina,” Rabia said, giving me a strange look. “The girl you were supposed to marry. Remember? She came to drop something off. Something to do with Zaid.”

Well, when she put it that way, there couldn’t be a mistake.

Of all the things, she was something that I didn’t exactly want to deal with right now.

But wait, did she say Zaid? After everything that had happened in the last thirty-six hours, regrettably, I hadn’t given him much thought. I remembered someone mentioning that he was still in hospital, but mentally and emotionally, I just couldn’t deal with the possibility that he too, could be gone.

But he wasn’t, it seemed, and my heart lifted as I looked at my mother and my sister, waiting to hear what else they had to say.

”What about Zaid?” I asked, ignoring the fresh plate of lamb curry and rice that my mother had placed in front of me, now consumed with concern for my best friend’s orphaned child.

“She came to ask you to sign his paperwork ” Rabia blurted out.

My mothers eyes widened as she looked from me to her. Rabia was obviously not supposed to know that. For all I knew, she was probably eavesdropping on someone’s conversation.

“You’re the executor to Liyaket’s estate. His mother is incapable. She needs your permission for sole guardianship.”

I turned to look at my brother, glimpsing the look on his face, already knowing that this wasn’t something that he was ready to delve into.

I knew that Liyaket had put me as executor to his estate. He had told me that months ago. But his kid… well, that was something that held much more weight. It was his most prized possession.

And in my heart, I also knew that guardianship rights was something that I wasn’t prepared to give up. It wasn’t about power or pride. This was something that knew that I couldn’t just forsake, for the sake of my life long friend. He entrusted me with this, and there was a reason he did. I couldn’t just give it up.

Never, in a million years.

Which meant I had one question to ask.

I already knew the answer, but I just had to hear it out loud. Somehow, there was a fiercer, more protective part of me that was making it’s way to the shore, and I simply couldn’t ignore it. The lion that I knew within me was about to come to the fore…

I turned to Imraan, swallowing hard as I looked at his worried face, my own expression hardening, before I asked:

”What’s my chances?”

His grim expression was a dead giveaway. He looked at me dismally, and despite my solemn resolutions, my heart sunk for the fiftieth time that day as he said it.

“I hate to say it,” he said quietly, barely meeting my eye. He already knew that I would do what it takes and this was the part that he was dreading.

“I already made some enquiries,” he continued. “It’s a last resort… but if you want to contest it, looks like you’re going to have to take it to court.”

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Dear readers… I’m going to desperately try and tie up loose ends before Ramadhaan… please make maaf if I’m unable to do more than one post. 💕Your questions are welcomed… just so i know I’ll be covering it all…

InshaAlla

Request for duaas

Much love

A x

Mission Sunnah Revival

Revive the Sunnah of Giving Constant Sadaqah.

Sadaqah as a means for cure, a way to cool the anger of Allah and proven to ward away calamity. There are many other benefits, and this great deed was a practise that is not only a reward but a barrier agonist the fire of Jahannam.

Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam), with the commencement of Ramadhaan, would become even more generous. 

It is narrated that he was most generous to the people and even more so in this blessed month that is approaching. Let us try and increase on our Sadaqah, InshaAllah ❤️

Du’aa for Sha’baan 

اَللّهُمَّ بَارِكْ لَنَا فِى شَعْبَانَ وَ بَلِّغْنَا رَمَضَان

Allaahumma Baa’rik La’naa Fee Rajab(a), Wa Sha’baan(a), Wa Bal’ligh’naa Ramadhaan.

“O Allaah! Make the months of Rajab and Sha’baan blessed for us, and let us reach the month of Ramadhaan.”

#ReviverheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

Weapons

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khalid

As a child that was a little bit on the prickly side, I’d always been a little obsessed weapons. Like all boys, whether it was a stick or a hand-made shield, fighting and defense was always a game I’d love to play. My first toy gun was my life. I wouldn’t leave home without it in my pocket. Having that assurance of it right there somehow comforted me. As a kid… well, you just had to take your precautions right?!

And of course, as I grew up, it wasn’t like I suddenly lost that rigidness and learnt what the real weapons were. It took years, patience and many lessons… but if there was one thing I learnt through the years of being away, its that constant and sincere Du’aa can come to save you even when you least expect it. Yes, Du’aa. Prayer. 

The truth is in the profoundness of the concept. The weapon of the believer. The essence of worship. Through constant Du’aa, the fact is that even if it doesn’t get us exactly what we desire, most often it removes for us some obstacle in the road that we don’t covet. 

And from the most beautiful story of the Quran, with the most unparalleled lessons, there is a most extraordinary Du’aa. Some Ulema are even of the opinion that this Du’aa of Yusuf (AS), through its uniqueness, is the most beautiful of all prophets’ Duas. 

فَاطِرَ السَّمَاوَاتِ وَالأَرْضِ أَنتَ وَلِيِّي فِي الدُّنُيَا وَالآخِرَةِ تَوَفَّنِي مُسْلِمًا وَأَلْحِقْنِي بِالصَّالِحِينَ

The Creator of the heavens and the earth! You are my Wali (Protector, Helper, Supporter, Guardian)  in this world and in the Hereafter, cause me to die as a Muslim and join me with the righteous

In the story of Yusuf (AS), he asked for Allah to be with him in this world and in the Aakhirah. He asked Allah to be given the favour of being one of his special servants.
And from the very story, the lesson of Du’aa is undeniable.

The thing is… with all the years being away and not seeing my own parents… I never really thought I was missing out on much until I got shaken up. If I had to pinpoint the exact time when my life changed, I know that I could very easily tell you that it was a moment that I would remember for the rest of my life. Yes, I had every weapon at my disposal, but it didn’t help me one bit. It was not just the most terrifying moment of my life, but it was also the most defining. It was a moment the sky broke loose. When all was revealed. When a window to the other side of life was shown..

And everytime I raised my hands to make Du’aa, I couldn’t help but remember that hat a miracle it was that I was given a chance to be better…

Oh Allah, we are not worthy. This gift of the Quran, we have not even earned. Oh Allah, we have many crimes, Ya Allah. Oh Allah, we have transgressed greatly.
But oh Allah, You are the King of Kings. Oh Allah, make us dependent only on You. Oh Allah make us never ask of anyone but You. Make us Your special people. Make us turn only to You. Make us of the people of Du’aa. Make us of the people of Qur’an. Make us the companions of the Quran. Make our character the character of Quran. Make our hearts attached to the Quran. Oh Allah, make the Quran our day and our night. Oh Allah, make the Quran our entire life. Make us live with the Quran. Make us die with the Quran..
Oh Allah, choose us, Ya Allah. Make us Your special servants. Make us Your stars. Make us shine, Ya Allah. Out of Your kindness, accept us, Ya Allah. Accept this effort as we beg of You and ask out of humility…

Tears momentarily filled my eyes as I ended the Duaa, knowing that it may be a while till I returned to this place that felt so much more like home than any other. To have the privilege of making the Du’aa here and witness a Hafidh of Quran complete now, in time for my leaving was a gift in itself. It was the most apt farewell that came at the most perfect time.

I couldn’t even comprehend the many favors that came along with being here. To see all the people I had yearned to see while I was away was yet a great blessing. My heart had ached to see some of them for years. Old friends, Ustaadh and teachers. Even Maulana Umar had made and appearance today, and as I had watched him retreat I was still in awe of how much of the Sunnah that guy had in him. Through all my years, his walk… his talk., the way he would humour people… just like how Nabi (SAW) would give a person the tile of day, or an attentive ear when they spoke… the man had mastered much more than I had seen in anyone else through all my years.

“You really want to go back?”

I looked up as I turned my face, watching the crowds leaving. He knew just how to appeal to the emotional side of me. The truth was, over the years, the toughness I had as a kid had slowly deteriorated. Yes, some of the experiences had made me hard, but in the same way, a little more in touch with my emotions. I also knew what Yunus was doing. He was the one I had confided in. He was the one that knew the truth of what had happened to me back then… before I had adopted the amazing quality of Shukar and put the past behind me. The dark side of man that had haunted me for years while I was away from home was something I had disclosed to very few people. He was probably wondering why I’d want to go back if there was so much at risk, when I could just stay home… knowing that I’d be safe.

And he knew because Yunus was one of the main people who had helped me get back. After the trouble I had been in and the ridiculous allegations against me… somehow, Yunus had managed to make the arrangements for my return back home. And though I knew at the time I would have to get back to my new life, I just didn’t want to think about it. I just never imagined that it would I be so soon.

”We’re going to miss you here, Maulana.”

”You’ll be okay, bro,” I said placing my arm around his shoulder casually. I felt like I had to explain to him. He looked so lost. “I’ll try and come back soon. It’s just… my life is there now and I have people to see… classes to finish… if Allah wills I’ll meet you again…”

”Ah man,” he said softly, looking genuinely defeated.

Yunus was still the same. Soft, obliging type whose painful expressions punctured my heart. And of course, as we chatted in low tones at the front of the masjid, I felt myself a little more attached to him than I realized. During the past few weeks we had become so close that to leave him now felt like I was losing a bit of myself. I don’t know how he did it but he was the type that was very hard to say no to, and even over the years, nothing had changed.

And I couldn’t help but chuckle as we remembered the one person who could really straighten him out without feeling guilty. Childhood memories were so vivid, and I smiled as I remembered how his sister used to yell at him as kids. There were moments when I often had to stick up for him, because he wouldn’t tell her a thing. The poor guy would simply whimper and turn to get on with his work. It just wasn’t in his nature to put up a fight, and I think that’s what made the guy that much more lovable.

And of course, thinking back was always nostalgic. I couldn’t imagine how empty my childhood would have been had I not had the company of those kids who made it what it was.

“Khawlah says you going to go to your new Madrassa and find new friends and forget about us…”

”What?” I asked, frowning and putting my hand out to block the sun that was in my eyes.

I remembered Yunus clearly asking the question as I sat under the shade of the oak tree, watching a pigeon who had recently built it’s nest fending off another one coming over to try and stake ownership. Being young.. not understanding the harshness of nature at times….it confused me. The pigeon had worked so hard.. and yet another one comes in, thinking that the other one can just yank it’s young out to make room for it to take over. I didn’t understand that maybe the new young were at a greater risk  if their mother didn’t find a home soon…

“You can just tell you Papa that you don’t want to go, you know,” Khawlah chipped in, her hands crossing over her chest bossily.

 I knew that she had set Yunus up to ask me the question. That was just her way, if anything bothered her, she’d get her brother wound up.., and poor Yunus, being the softie he was, wouldn’t be able to contain himself.

I shrugged. As if it was that easy. Papa was set on me being an Aalim for years. To break his heart would have been painful even for me to watch.

”I’ll never forget you guys,” I said softly.

”How do we know?” She pressed. She was inconsolable. “That’s what you say, but how do we know?”

“Ah, Khalwah, don’t be so moody,” Yunus said. He had been watching me carefully. Somehow he just had that way with people… that feeling for someone else. “Everyone has to grow up and leave, You can see he means it. Of course he won’t.”

”Well I’m not going anywhere,” she said stubbornly, sitting on the bench. “I’m going to stay like this forever.”

Yunus chuckled and she broke into a smile as she suddenly got up, continuing with her work as we went on with the game we were playing. The ‘x and o’ on the sandy patch near the jungle gym was a favorite of ours, and I looked up at them both, wondering for that moment how I could ever forget those friends of mine.

In that space… at the time… losing a childhood friendship seemed like the biggest things in the world.

And I suppose it was ironic, and maybe it was wrong of me… but as life took its course, my life would go on without them. 

I missed my mother. My friends. School. Of course, I missed everything familiar. No guy was as great or friendly as Yunus. No girl was as cool or pretty as Khawlah. My heart ached for familiar sights. For the garden. For outdoors. For the moments I’d spend under the sun, with my hands stuck in the soil. I  didn’t understand that my heart was undergoing other changes. I didn’t know that with this reformation, my heart was slowly anchoring itself, and that no matter where I’d drift to or find myself lost after that…  somehow it was that Tarbiyyah and Quran that would bring me back onto my axis.

I didn’t realize that years down the line I might have actually done myself a disservice by not going out of the way to keep in touch. Even after getting caught up, going off track and finding my way again… I still had the notion that I would be able to pick up where I left off at some point. How wrong I was. Hearing about Khawlah’s marriage had been the biggest wake up call for me. It was the moment when I realized that I hadn’t been true to my word and the only person to blame was myself.

And even after all those years of going away, when I thought I’d found myself, sometimes it just takes one incident to change your entire perspective.

And of course, somehow, as I found my way back home for the first time against all odds, I didn’t think that the main feature would be to meet the guy who made that first trip what it was. Honestly, if I had not met him then it’s possible that my whole trip would have been futile, since I didn’t achieve any other aspirations I had. It was a bleak afternoon towards the end of spring. The air was getting palpably warmer and the days getting noticeably longer. I didn’t think that this was the place that I would end up, but there I was, standing in front of a guy that my father had insisted I come see, despite knowing that I had many other places to be right then.

I looked at him as I entered the room, wondering if was in the right place. Yes, he was a good-looking guy, but he looked like he was having a rough time. I didn’t know just how sick he was, but despite that all, I didn’t know that I’d actually live to see such appreciation.

“You’ve been the star of my life.”

I was confused. I wasn’t sure what he meant. Was the guy serious?

“My wife’s Khawlah,” he said, as if it explained everything.

Did he know what happened regarding Khalwah? Maybe he was just trying to make me feel better. 

His breathing was shallow and slightly labored. I looked at him questioningly. 

”Khawlah?” I repeated idiotically, knowing who he meant of course. I just didn’t want to delve further into the topic. My visit wasn’t for that intention. 

“Yeah,” he said with a grin. No, he wasn’t taking the mickey out of me. He was so… genuine. “You’ve featured in so many new discoveries. Whenever I would hear, ‘Khalid used to say’…I know I’m in for something good. I don’t know what brought you here today but I’m so glad you came…”

Ah. Now I got him. As if I was deserving of that role…

“Well, that’s a funny story,” I said softly, trying to lighten the mood. I was a little stunned. The thing was, I was indebted to him. 

After hearing how much he had done for my parents in the period I was away, I couldn’t help but want to meet him. He was the guy who had given my parents so much of hope and strength when they thought I was gone for good.

Only at the time they didn’t tell me who he was. Seeing him brought another dimension to the equation. I felt strangely settled. Uplifted. Completely at peace that Khawlah had got an amazing husband. It was weird and completely unexpected but before even seeing my mother, this was the place I had ended up at and I didn’t regret it. 

“Strange that you’re supposed to be the one dead and I’m the one lying here…”

He chuckled. It was a deep kind of rumble for somewhere with his tummy, and it made me smile, despite the fact that his sickness was barely even humorous.

Of course I didn’t know what to say. 

”Hey,” he said suddenly, licking his dry lips and raising an eyebrow at me. He had a different kind of accent. “You know it was my ultimate dream to meet you. Can I tell her that you’re… okay?”

I gave him a small smile. He didn’t say alive. He said okay. 

”Let me meet my mother first,” I said quietly. “And we’ll let it all unfold from there…”

I just thought I was being streetwise. I didn’t know that Khawlah would be angry that Aadam had met me, and never let her know. All he was doing by not telling her was going with my plan.

He nodded and smiled knowingly. He knew what women were like, of course, and he didn’t want to cause any unnecessary confusion.

And of course,  it was weird for this guy, who was her husband to speak like this. To talk about me, some guy in his wife’s past, being someone who had changed the course of someone’s life. Maybe it was his inherent nature, but he was different.
People are often running others down. Saying bad things. Picking on their faults. It’s seldom that you hear good words. And I supposed I had hoped in a way that Khawlahs husband  wasn’t that amazing… but this was a sure tell-tale sign that Aadam was a genuinely great guy, and of course, I would have never been able to live up to that.

”It feels like,” he said again, a hint of junior in his eye. “Like the story of Yusuf (AS).. coming back after so many years, after his fathers Du’aa… do you know how much of Du’aa they made for you..?”

I smiled. Of course. For Yaqub AS.. the lesson was that despite time, distance and the probability that he will never see his son again… it never stopped him from asking. He never stopped pleading. Even when the people would ask him why he still prayed… after so many years… it was because this prophet understood something that a mere person didn’t. Even if decades pass, and still your Du’aa remains seemingly unanswered… why not continue to ask? The magic of Du’aa is that even if it’s not answered the way you think, it serves as a shield to protect you from something else that may have caused much harm…

”I suppose it is,” I answered. My father who was the only person I’d seen since arrival, had told me that everyone had thought I was dead.

”I never thought I’d meet you,” he said, looking at me like he’d seen a ghost. I mean, I didn’t blame him.

I smiled and read a short Du’aa for him as I saw him closing his eyes tiredly.

I smiled as I saw the humour in his eyes and opened them again. I was about to leave, but he lifted his hand up slightly.

”Is there anything I can do for you?” I said, thinking it was the least I could do. I didn’t want to inconvenience him by staying too long.

He looked at me at that point, and in that one glance it was like millions of veils were lifted  from his eyes and I could see right down to his soul.

”Im the type of guy who had everything I ever wanted,” he said quietly, his eyes telling a tale of untold regret. “The best of cars, houses and clothes. I’ve owned Ferraris and Porsche’s… had them best of them all, yeah… The best of watches, gadgets and shoes. I have money in my account waiting for me to spend…furnished apartments that are all on my name. I thought that was the life, yeah. That I’d found the gold. That this was the be all and end all of life… sounds like it, right?”

I nodded, wondering what it must have been like to be like him. I was never a fan of material things but cars… well, you can’t flash a Ferrari in front of a guy and expect him not to twitch.

”And here I am, yeah,” he said subsequently, his voice dropping. “I probably wouldn’t have realized that those things can do nothing for me. I’m lying here in a queen sized hospital bed, in a private ward. I can take a private jet on any day of the week.. but none of that can do a thing for me. I can’t go back and re-live that time I wasted. I can’t undo the things I’ve done wrong in my past. I can’t even buy more time. I know you know all that but what you don’t know is that if I never met Khawlah… if I never knew any of those promises that she told me about… if I didn’t get to find out that I’m not made of my mistakes and I’m not made of my sins… I’m telling you for sure, my friend…. I would have been a complete goner.”

I had looked at him at that moment, his eyes filled with out gratitude and his expression now completely at peace. I closed my eyes and made a silent Du’aa, willing for Allah to grant him complete relief. I didn’t know him but I felt like I did. He was inspiring. Awesome. A guy whose story made me think about myself and how I took my own situation for granted. I knew I could never be grateful enough…

And yes, I wanted so badly to set everything right but as it happened, as I noticed a car following me back from the hospital that day, I knew that I wouldn’t get to meet my mother that day. Or that year. It was bad luck that I had been traced back home, and going to my house would have put my family at risk. The Egyptian conflict had amplified and I didn’t want to risk it. I headed straight back on a flight, knowing that somehow, if it was meant to be… I would find home someday. 

And here I was, finally. Years down the line, I had been given another chance. As we drove back home that day, Yunus exceptionally silent and me in a world of my own, I couldn’t help but think of how time runs away with us. From those little, daring and somewhat carefree kids, here we were, side by side, out in the big world with so much of hope and aspiration…

And yes, maybe I too had a past that haunted me. I had run away but now I had come home, and done what I need to. I had tied up all loose ends. This time, my mother would come back with me for a while, see her family, and settle some of the fears she had before she had come here years ago. I would fulfill her right.

Once upon a time I tried to escape my past. To forget the pain. Once upon a time, I had lost the innocent that came with youth, when I took a step in the wrong direction. But one lesson I learnt was that when the Quran is in your heart, it will always let you find your way back..

And of course, it was something that stuck with me through the years. It was the sincerity of one guys words that made me think.

Our actions are little. Valueless. Not even worth looking at. We know our condition. We know our deeds. But we ask. We ask our Lord… Oh King of Kings, we ask, Like Yaqoob (AS) asked, and continued to ask… because we hope that hope that one day, maybe Allah will look at us with his look of mercy and give us.. not like how we deserve, but because He knows that if we can’t ask of Him, we really have no where else we can turn to. 

Sometimes I wish that I could have bought more time back then. Set things right. Sometimes I wished that I had taken life a bit more seriously when it mattered. Maybe it was my friends. Maybe it had been my parents. Perhaps it was someone else whose mind I had crossed for some reason or occasion. I don’t know what measure of time or distance or place… I cant comprehend the hours or minutes or seconds… but I do know that it was at the most crucial moment when someone’s Du’aa came to save me from something that would have been a true tragedy. The essence of worship, the answer to every problem. The solution that truly worked. Du’aa was something that I saw the magic of years down the line.

All I knew was that at that point, just before the flaming blaze of the explosion that changed my life, as I bent down to pick up a piece of log that was in the middle of the road… a Sadaqah that showed me the immediate removal of a calamity… those few milliseconds that delayed my re-entry to the car were unbelievably crucial to my survival. Had I got there just 20 seconds earlier, I knew that I too, like my cousins, would have been burnt to smithereens. I too, would have been a complete goner. And I could almost see it… at that very moment, someones heartfelt Du’aa was headed directly at me, intervening just in time and completely shielding me from the disaster that had just unfolded.

And that’s when I learnt about Duaa.

A lesson that stuck for life. As we stopped the car just outside my house now back home, the shadow of my mother sitting on the porch suddenly caught my eye and my heart immediately jumped to my throat.

I knew her tell-tale signs by now. Ah yes, I knew my mother too well. My mothers famous habit was to plant herself outside as a warning to me… generally when she had a bone to pick with my father or when I was in some kind of unprecedented trouble. I didn’t know that she had a visitor. I just knew that when I saw her with her arms crossed and her charcoal eyes slightly narrowed, my only chance at survival was to make a silent Duaa. Today I had to pull out all the weapons I could because there was certainly something unseemly waiting to erupt…

 

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Dearest readers, 

I can’t seem to manage more than one post a week for now, so please forgive the delays. A little bit of revelations in this much longer post… hope most of the questions are being answered…

 

Much Love,

A xx

Lots and lots of Duaas. Let’s focus on trying to bring Du’aa into our daily lives.. that will be the next Sunnah InshaAllah 

Sunnah of Honoring ones elders 

Reviving this Sunnah…
As youth we should remember that how we treat our elders is how we will be treated when we reach old age.
Sayyiduna Anas narrates that Nabi said: “No young person shows respect to an old man on account of his old age without Allah Ta’ala appointing someone to show respect to him when he becomes old.”

Revive the Sunnah of honoring elders.

How easy to practice …

#revivetheSunnahofGiving

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

 

 

Barren Hearts

 

Bismihi Ta’ala

Zuleikha

Everyone has their own struggles in life. Some people are struggling to make ends meet. Some people are struggling in their marriages. Some people have struggles with their kids. Some people are just struggling through the day to day ups and downs that make this thing called life… well, life.

And yes, I had my struggles. With my life. My husband. My past. The things that I thought I had missed out on. The things that I had messed up. But sometimes we have to just say it how it is and move on. Yes, we make mistakes. We gave in to our Nafs. We disobeyed Allah’s commands. We broke His Divine laws. We dated people and made our lives hell. We married someone who wasn’t as he seemed. We cherished people who turned their backs on us. We made bad choices. But we learnt and we found ourselves along the way. We fought. We conquered. We filled our barren hearts and we rose.

And whether I was stuck on a rut or just feeling down, the story of Yusuf (AS) was one that I looked at often for inspiration. This Nabi of Allah was a mere servant who lived for years in the house of Zulekha, a woman of beauty, power and influence. Day in and day out, Zulekha was exposed to his physical allure, a composition so stunning that the Messenger Muhammad [SAW] said:

“Yusuf has been given half of all beauty” [Muslim]. 

Zulekha suppressed her desire for Yusuf until she could no longer control it. She was overwhelmed by the inclinations. She waited until her husband left the home, and alone with Yusuf, she lured him into her room, locked the doors and called him to fulfill her lust.

Imam Muhammad Al Qurtubi, the great Quranic commentator, recounts the story:

[After locking the doors] Zulekha attempts to seduce Yusuf.  She beautifies herself in the most attractive of ways and says:

“Oh Yusuf! You have the most handsome of faces.”  

Yusuf, sensing what Zulekha is attempting to do, replies, “This is how my Lord fashioned me in the womb.”

“Oh Yusuf!”she says, “You have the finest of hair!”  

“It will be the first portion of me to wither in my grave,” he replies.

Undeterred, Zulekha presses on. “Oh Yusuf! Your eyes are so beautiful.”  

“I use them to look at my Lord,” he retorts.

“Yusuf, raise your sight and gaze at my face,” she responds.  

“I fear [if I do so] that I will be resurrected blind in the afterlife,” Yusuf answers.

She tries to press herself close to Yusuf, but he moves away. “I come close to you, yet you distance yourself from me?” she asks.

“ I desire, by that, the closeness of my Lord,” he says.

“Yusuf, I have prepared my bed for you so enter under its sheets with me,” she says.

 Yusuf replies, “Your sheets will not shield me from my Lord.”

“Yusuf, I have prepared the finest of silk covers, so I order you to fulfill my desires!” she exclaims.

 “If I do so,” he says, “My portion of paradise will be lost.”

Her attempt to seduce him was fruitless, and his desire to remind her of Allah was falling on a barren and deaf heart.

And Yusuf [AS] was inclined to her, but he was a prophet of Allah who was in control of his desires.  Zulekha, like you and I, was not. She had an inclination and she went all out for it. She gave in. She allowed her desires to overcome her love for Allah. She found herself to be living with the object of her want…

Her Nafs.  Our Nafs.  A beast inside each and every one of us that we must tame.  An unbridled nafs will lead us to prefer all carnal desires over the love of what Allah and His Messenger Muhammad (SAW) call us to.

“I just can’t believe it…”

I looked at my sister as she said it, a little overwhelmed by everything she had just offloaded onto me. I was in just a little bit of shock. With the constant battle we fight within ourselves sometimes the Nafs can lead even the most unassuming of us into loads of trouble.

”Me neither,” I mumbled to myself as I met her eye. It was a helluva load of information to process  right then and I was a little overwhelmed.

”Do you think he knew that she had a baby?” I asked. I said carefully, watching my sister tie her curly hair back as she looked ahead, almost in a trance. I could imagine that there must be a lot on her mind. “Why would she tell you that she had a ligation and now come back and cause havoc? You think she has an ulterior motive?! Like what if she thinks he will die and then the inheritance…”

Khawlah looked back at me solemnly as I slapped my hand to my mouth. I could barely believe that I had said that. It was a petty thing to worry about but I knew that Aadam was pretty well off and it could be a reason for this whole occurrence. What if this woman was just trying her luck and making my sister miserable in the process..

”It’s okay,” Khawlah said softly, her eyes looking sorrowful. “I had thought the same thing but I don’t think it’s his baby. I mean, maybe it’s wishful thinking… But maybe she wanted me to believe that she couldn’t have kids. I don’t know why…”

Her dark eyes were slightly narrowed, as if she was thinking carefully, and her pale cheeks were looking a little more flushed than usual. I could see that she was a little more stressed about the doctor friends visit than she had let on.

”Are you sure it’s not his baby then?” I said, expecting the worst. What if my brother-in-law did have a child out of wedlock? It would be one of the worst possible things to find out at this stage. It would change everything.

”It doesn’t make sense,” she said softly. “Like the age and the time frames. I really hope that she’s not turning up here to try and unsettle everything. What if his mother finds out?! The baby is only about 14 months. It’s impossible for if to be his child unless…”

Unless he was still seeing her when he had supposedly change his life and was actively becoming interested in Khawlah…

”You should have just asked her,” I said, really hoping that if the kid that pitched up at Aadam’s flat yesterday wasn’t Aadam’s kid. “Just to clarify.”

”I’m seeing her again,” she said. “She didn’t want Aadam to know she was there and wouldn’t stick around in case he saw her. I didn’t argue because I didnt want him to see her either. She thought he would be at hospital or something…”

”Aadam won’t lie to you,” I said confidently. “If he says that it was over then it was over. He’s not the type to drag someone along when he was clearly changing his life. Just don’t ask him as yet. Don’t  jump to conclusions. Remember what happened the last time? You were miserable and so was he. Talk to her first and then see the outcome…”

I was pretty sure about this one. The fact that the doctor who said she was Aadam’s old flame had pitched up out of the blue meant nothing right now. There was definitely something she was hiding but it wasn’t a baby. That much I knew. I would expect something like this to happen to me. Jameel was the type to have messed around and hid it all, until someone randomly showed up to divulge his secrets…  but Aadam…

Khawlah’s relationship with her husband was worlds away from mine. Where I had always had some kind of reservation about Jameel, Khawlah, in the other hand always had full faith in Aadam. It gave me hope and an amazing sense of peace to know that my sister had made a good choice. That Aadam was everything he had seemed and more. That my Duaa for her when she had made Nikah had been answered in so many ways, that it simply blew me away. She was so happy with him and it made me emotional when I thought of it… I just wished that he would feel well and get better soon so everything could go back to normal.

”Zuleikha, can I ask you something?”

I looked at my sister as she looked at me, unsure of where she was headed with the question but nodding anyway. Her pretty face was looking a little slimmer than usual. I wasn’t sure if she was eating properly. I could only assume that all the stress was getting to her. With exams on the way and her husband in a state of uncertainty, I could imagine that having an appetite was not exactly easy…

”How do you hide something from someone you love? Like, how do I be normal with him right now… when this could be so disastrous..?”

I swallowed as I digested the question, pursing my lips slightly as I thought of how to answer her.

“Sabr,” I said softly, meeting her eye. “Lots of Sabr…”

She seemed contented and I wished that I could take my own advice more often. Sabr. Shukar. It seemed so contradictory for me but the sore fact was that my marriage was not exactly a typical one. Jameel and I had had our fair share of gripes and we weren’t completely undamaged due to it. It was just that at certain moments I felt like there was a wall that we couldn’t break down. My thoughts drifted back to this morning’s events, when I walked in to see him with his head in his hands as he stared at the kitchen counter.

”Is everything okay?” I couldn’t help but ask, getting worried.

He looked up at me, giving a small smile as Muhammed ran and climbed up to where his father was and gave him the cutest of hugs.

”Yup, I’m fine,” he said, running his hand through his now prominent beard stressfully and kissing Muhammed’s forehead. “Just family issues. You know how it is.”

I nodded but I didn’t really. It was something we didn’t get into much. I knew that his parents often had marital problems. To put it lightly, if was the cause of my husband’s drug problem and where Jameel had picked up some of his womanising habits too. As a result, his mother was often going on crazy tangents and his sister was always seeking attention in other ways. How parents mess up their kids with their irresponsible behaviour.. sometimes I wanted to bang my head on a wall at their deliberate incompetency as parents. It was Mishka’s first year in university and it seemed like Jameel posed a new issue with her every week.

I could see that he was taking it upon himself and if was stressing him out. Besides the fact that there were different guys bringing her home every day, rumor had it that she was sleeping around. The worst part was that as much as Jameel had changed his life now… there was still little he could do to change the rest of his family. It was something we didn’t talk about because somehow, Jameel just wouldn’t open up about it. It would bring out too many skeletons that he had locked away. Where I wished that we had the kind of relationship that we spoke about anything and everything, the truth was that Jameel and I always had that little avenue where we never ventured. Sometimes it hurt to think that he would close himself up from me about those things, but I had got used to family and his past being no-go zones…

”Did you speak to Khawlah?” He asked suddenly, his brow furrowing as he looked up at me again. He loosened his tie as he waited for my answer, obviously anxious about the news I would have about my brother-in-law. There was a softer side of Jameel that Aadam had somehow appealed to, and from day one, all I’d seen change about him was due to that. Aadam and Khawlah’s union was something that had evolved so much for not just them, but us all…

”I hope he feels well enough tonight,” Jameel said to himself. “He’s been waiting for this for a while. To see everyone settled. That guy’s heart is amazing..”

And so is yours.

I wanted to say it, but somehow, I couldn’t. To compliment Jameel was something I rarely did. I wasn’t sure what it was, but the demons from the past always came back to put a spanner in the works just as I feel I could move past it all…

What was it about us that somehow prevents us from saying things to break the ice? To be nice? Especially to the people we love. And yes, sometimes we think that it’s not a big deal but those little things that remind them about just how special they truly are are sometimes those things that make or break a couple.

“I’ll call her again just now,” was all I said, making an intention to try and be warmer next time. To fill those barren spaces with something that we could hold onto.

I knew that Aadam hadn’t been well after starting treatment but I didn’t want to say it aloud. I didn’t want to mention the fatal and dreaded tumour. My mind was occupied with the possibilities of what could happen if nithing worked and Jameel looked stressed too. Somehow, Aadam had just crept into everyone’s hearts.

Muhammed was busy blabbering away to his father about something I couldn’t quite comprehend as I forced myslef to get ready for the big night ahead and hope for the best…

Of course I had been a little skeptical about Ahmed and Rubeena but since my brother was the surest about anything he had been in his life, I knew that there was little I could truly do to stop him. Part of me was relieved that he had finally come out about his true feelings and there’d be no stress about his erratic mind changes. Part of me was worried that he was taking on more than he could handle. Four boys in your home was a huge lifestyle change.

”I’m so happy for you guys.”

Our conversation about Aadam had been interrupted with their arrival and it was Khawlah who spoke as Ahmed and Rubeena walked into the house, looking completely at ease with each other as they stood there, graciously accepting Du’aas and greeting the few family members who were around. Ahmed looked good in a black kurta that made his eyes look slightly more serious than usual and Rubeena was looking rightfully flushed as she greeted the few aunties of Abba’s who had come from out of town. She was looking beautiful.

Since the Waleemah would be a small and simple affair at a small restaurant later that evening, the guests who had come for the Nikah had already arrived.  The wedding house vibes were very much palpable and I was glad that I had chosen a restaurant for the venue as we simply didn’t have the space at home to accommodate Ahmed’s millions of friends and Jamaat acquaintances. 

I greeted my brother affectionately, making a firm intention to let go of the past tension we had shared. He grinned as I wished him all the best and gave him a playful scolding, hoping that he was following his heart and doing the right thing this time. With Ahmed, unfortunately, we just never know…

I smiled to myself as I watched my brother talking to Rubeena’s boys who were walking ahead of them, a little surprised at how well they actually got along. They were currently dragging him off to play soccer outside and Ahmed shook his head and gave in as he pulled his Kurta off. Right now, it seemed like he had no other worries. Everything else could wait as he just took the tile to enjoy this moment and everything that came with it. He had met Rubeena at her house and brought her here because he wanted everyone to meet her before the Waleema. I really loved that she was so easy-going as she chatted and laughed with even the older ladies who were there.

”Zuleikha.”

I turned slightly to see my new sister-in-law next to me now and I reached out to greet her, feeling slightly awkward that I barely spoke to her before this. Somehow… we had just never made an effort to become friends but I hoped that in time we would.

”I just wanted to say thank you for everything,” she said quietly as we stepped out of view. “For planning the function. Even though Ahmed says you were mad at him and a little upset about the past few months that he made you go crazy….”

She flushed slightly as she said it, probably feeling embarrassed on his account. Or maybe hers too.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I feel responsible too… I’m just so glad that the Nikah is done. I half expected my ex-husband to barge into the mosque screaming for it to all stop…”

I smiled as she rolled her eyes, and I immediately felt at ease, despite her openness. I think one of the things that had made me uneasy was the fact that Rubeena had been married before, and her husband was not exactly an amazing guy. Obviously, it meant that it made her into an even more disagreeable person with different aspirations and hang-ups. Seeing her back then had made me realize how my life could have turned out if I had changed nothing. It reminded me of the mistakes I had made. The struggles that I had faced. But seeing her right now… at this stage was what made me realize that it was only when Allah willed for guidance to come, then it poured like His mercy. She had changed so much.

And of course, it was amazing but speaking to her now got me realizing how wrong I had been. How I had judged her. In plain sight, I could see what it was about her that Ahmed liked in the first place. She had an ease about her that I had heard Jameel mention about Aadam. She was so real and incredibly vocal. I loved the way she had a witty remark about serious things and though she was so different to my brother, I knew that these were the precise things that had attracted him. Ahmed needed someone like her to lighten up his life. He needed a balance. Someone who would give him a little allowance to express himself. Where he barely spoke about feelings, Rubeena was exceptionally expressive. She was amazingly normal, despite me thinking otherwise, and though I had previously written her off as a spoilt woman who neglected her kids… I realized that my opinions were quite widely off-base.

Somehow, after seeing them now … I was absolutely convinced. This was, by far, the most intelligent choice that my brother had ever made.

I really did like her, and as I greeted her mother who had come in wearing an exceptionally fancy dress and high heels, I couldn’t help but grin at how different they were. I could see them arguing about something about the menu that was supposed to be changed, finding their relationship pretty amusing as they went on.

I watched Ahmed as he came up to Rubeena, saying something to her and then watching her expression change as they headed down to the lounge. My heart was kind of breaking for my sister as I watched them, knowing that Aadam was having a bad day and might not make it for the function tonight. I made a silent Du’aa for it to be okay for their sake, and just as they disappeared into the lounge and I busied myself with checking if everything was packed and loaded into Jameel’s car for tonight’s function, I couldn’t help but notice a slight murmur among the outside crowd as I spoke aloud to myself.

“Sweet meats,” I murmured to myself. “Bottled water. Flowers…”

Although Ahmed turned up his nose at my ideas and didn’t seem to keen on my event planning, I had taken it upon myself to see to all the minor aesthetics and I loved doing it. It was my hobby to make things look pretty. I was seriously thinking of taking it up as a small business to keep myself busy. Now that Muhammed was growing and Jameel would never allow me to go back to teaching in a school, to do something like this would be my dream. 

I ticked off the things on the list, not noticing the jolly buzz from outside simmer down as I turned around to call Jameel. Though we didn’t have much family here, Ahmed’s friends were outside and a few of Khawlah’s in laws were also around. I had just spotted Jameel and my son, when an achingly familiar face suddenly came into view. My voice caught in my throat as I opened my mouth, not really believing what I saw as I gaped outside.

”What on earth are you doing here?”

I wasn’t even sure who said it as I looked ahead, blinking idiotically as the woman looked back at us with a certain enmity in her eyes. I didn’t know what it was about this woman, but she always came back with a barren heart, a vengeance and the most putrid timing…

If was like the past was coming back to haunt me. Just when I thought that I had moved past it all, this woman just had a habit of turning up where she was least welcome.

A spanner in the works and a ripple in the tide… Abba was gaping from where he stood, not quite believing that she was actually here. My heart hammered in my chest as I expected the worst.

I already knew that Aunty Nas had come back to stir something up…

---

Bonus post with some awaited revelations… Wonder what Aunty Nas wants now after all this time..?!

 

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

 

 

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…

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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

Moments in History

 

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Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

Change. We don’t like it. Well, I know I don’t. We fear it, but we can’t stop it from coming. The thing is, we can either adapt to change, or we get left behind. By default, our lives are meant to be such that everything around us, within us and ahead of us constantly changes.

And one of the most extraordinary gifts that a person can ever be blessed with is the ability to smile amidst the challenges that they face. To take change in their stride. To make Sabr from the first test. To show forbearance at all times, whenever the burdens of the world that they carry may overwhelm them.

As was the outstanding quality of Nabi (SAW)… despite his trials, his losses and the grief that he endured within his blessed heart, he was always seen with a smile on his Mubarak face. Because he, (SAW), among all people understood that the nature of this Duniyaa is such that trials and tribulations are part and parcel of it’s disposition. He buried every child of his, except for one. He saw the pains of the beloved Sahaabah as they suffered from severe hunger. He experienced hurt and betrayal and abuse from even those whom he loved.

We are meant to learn Sabr. To practice Tawakkul. To build our faith and our belief that Allah does not wish for us difficulty, but only wants to strengthen us, to give us ease in the hereafter. To remind us that this world is not forever.

And along my journey, somehow, I had been fortunate enough to meet a guy who reminded me about this on a constant basis. He was the kind of person that you’d remember for those qualities, because in every situation that tests you, those simple things are lessons that remind you. Those moments are ones that you remember despite the sadness and despair, because they shine out through the darkness. Those moments are moments that not only make history… but moments that you can’t forget.

And though I’ve had my fair share of gripes with my mother-in-law, one thing I couldn’t deny was that someone.. somehow, had raised a great guy. Even if it was by some miracle, my husband had turned out to be an amazing human being.

Our character… the way we are and people see us… well, these are the things that aren’t tangible… yet leave everlasting impressions. Somehow, Aadam had acquired not just a helluva amazing approach to life, but also a conviction in his heart that no trial could shake.

“Are your uncle and them coming back tonight?” I asked, noticing the house suddenly empty as I got back downstairs.

”Uncle Siraj’s temporarily disowned me,” Aadam said with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t think he’ll be back any time soon…”

I glanced at Rubeena but she didn’t meet my eye. Something was up, and I knew that I had to get to the bottom of it.

”What did you do?” I said. Narrowing my eyes at my husband.

“Listen, sweets,” he said casually with one raised eyebrow, getting up and pulling out his crutches to use. “Don’t worry your pretty head about these things. It was some tests that I didn’t want to take… but I’m going to do them now, okay? It’s all under control, right Rubes? There’s a Greater Power here. It’s all under control, yeah?”

It was almost as if he was asking her and reminding her at the same time, and though I frowned and noticed her stagnant expression, with Aadam’s indifferent attitude and carefree approach to life, I obviously didn’t make a big deal of something that didn’t seem like a worry at the time.

The weeks of the second term exams flew by steadily, and being so busy with work and getting dragged into Nikah plans for Ahmed was pretty much consuming. It was the week when exams were due to end when my brother suddenly came to us and have us a considerate heads up about his heading off to Europe for two weeks. I would never forget the look on Zuleikha’s face when he said it. She was utterly peeved.

”Oh my word, Ahmed,” she squealed, looking up from the notebook she was writing in. “You can’t be serious! I’ve already set a date with the caterers.”

”Change it,” Ahmed said simply. “Nothings written in stone. I did tell you not to book anything yet.”

Zuleikha rolled her eyes at him in frustration. I could see through her niqab that she wasn’t impressed. Her amber eyes were narrowed, and I could see Aadam’s mouth lift up at the corners as he watched the two of them. To be fair though, maybe I should stick up for my sister. Ahmed seemed to be a bit softer with me after my teary episode when Aadam’s health had been a great concern. It had been consuming me for weeks, but with Aadam’s reassurance that everything will be okay… I was holding up just fine.

“Ahmed, are you sure you want to go?” I asked, a little disbelievingly. “Don’t you want to make Nikah first and then take your wife with you?”

Ahmed frowned.

”It’s a men’s Jamaat,” he said, as if I was crazy to even suggest it. “And I’ve waited my whole life to get married. I don’t think a few weeks will make a difference. Right Adam?”

Aadam smiled.

”I don’t know about you, bro.. but i couldn’t wait.”

”I’m different,” he said confidently. And with that he shrugged and walked off as Aadam and I made our way out after greeting an annoyed Zuleikha, and dismissing his behavior as typical Ahmed behavior. Besides, I was already preoccupied with psyching myself up for the night ahead. It was family night and supper with my mother-in-law always had it’s fair of drama.

Since Ruby still had a few days to come out of Iddat and supper was at her place … I kind of hoped that things wouldn’t erupt like they usually did. What I didn’t know was that tonight was going to be a moment in history that I didn’t anticipate.

”You guys are all so… unique,” Aadam was saying, almost to himself as we hopped in the car. “Ahmed is so rough and… powerful… And Zuleikha is super sensitive.. and considerate. Yunus is in a world of his own. He’s probably like one of the deepest guys I’ve ever met. As for you…”

I held out my hand to stop him in mid-sentence, already anticipating some quirky dig at me that Aadam was so famous for.

”I’m the most unemotional person you’ve ever known?” I said, shrugging indifferently and focusing on the road. My driving was becoming better and it was just in time because Aadam’s cast was due to come off in a week and he’d be more or less back to his normal self.

Well, I hoped.

“You’re my rock, Khawlah,” he said simply. “You are the way you are, and that’s precisely why I love you. I couldn’t have asked for a better partner… but back to the point..”

”No, no,” I said, waving my hand at him. “Carry on complimenting me please. Let’s not get back to the point.”

Aadam grinned as he leant over and planted a slobbery kiss on my cheek.

”Euw,” I said, wiping it off.

”I can sit here and compliment you all day, beautiful,” he said seriously. “Without having you in my life, I really would have seen none of this. I would have been so lost if Allah hadn’t looked at me with His gaze of mercy and brought me from that pit of revolt that I was sinking in. I used to think that all these worldly things made me a cut above the rest, when in truth, all I have is a dark shadow that follows me wherever I go, reminding me that at one stage of my life, I was worth nothing at all. I had everything going for me, but I was still a lost soul. An unfulfilled being. I knew nothing of what my purpose was and who I was meant to be. That my living and my dying an everything in between is and always will be, only for One Supreme Being…”

I glanced at him and swallowed, pondering on that characteristic of him that never seized to amaze me. He was so humble. It was something that had blown me away from the minute I had gotten to know my husband, and that kind of humility only comes when you truly recognize Allah in everything you do. 

And I would never admit it to anyone, but when he we sat together, some time after the day of his big work function… What I saw in him was something that I didn’t often see in anyone before this. He had made it very well-known that all the glory, attention and awards meant nothing to him. For him, it wasn’t important.  All he knew was that no matter what people payed to him or said about him or spoke of him… he knew that otherwise he would be worth nothing at all. Nothing without Allah.

Ans tears had filled my eyes as I sat there, remembering his past and hurting for every pain that he had ever felt. There’s always a regret over time lost without knowing the Allah who gave you everything that you are. As he spoke about his childhood, his mother… his past… I always sensed a pain there that I wished so badly that I could make go away.

”Do you know what Yunus wants to be?” I asked him softly, with the train of thought still running through my mind as we sat in the car outside, not yet ready to go in until this conversation was over.

”He told me,” Aadam said with a smile. “Amazing guy. An Aalim, huh? I love him to bits.”

”Yunus talks to you?” I asked, wondering when it ever happens. Yunus was always in his own kind of silent zone.

”All the time,” Aadam said. “Sometimes in his mind. But we get each other.”

I grinned.

”Its such a noble thing,” he said as he thought of Yunus. “But not everyone’s destined for that. I know that I’m too rotten, yeah. Allah chooses those who do His work…”

Of course, I couldn’t help but think that growing up with Khalid had a great impact on him too. His influence was so intense that it had carried over so many years…

“And yet,” I said, catching on to my husbands sentiments. “The professionals in our community play an unbelievable role in uplifting this Ummah too. Especially those who do as much work as you do. Allah gives everyone different roles and skills for different reasons.. You’re a genius at what you do and you and you must never underestimate it, Aadam… you do amazing work.”

“Is someone actually complimenting me?” He asked incredulously. “I can’t believe this. Who are you and what have you done with my wife?!”

”I give credit where it’s due,” I said with a smile.

”I think the moment of truth is really close…” he said as I reached for the door handle. “The moment of declaration that I’ve waited for from the time I was married to the girl of my dreams…”

I shook my head as we walked up the steps to the doorway, amused by Aadam as usual. I straightened my face, as we pushed open the door, not wanting to appear too smiley with Aadam’s mother.

Yes, my mother-in-law had simmered down a lot but it was still awkward. The ice was still very much intact. I had no idea when it would be broken… but I didn’t suspect it happening anytime soon.

And as the door opened, my heart immediately lifted to see the boys running towards us in excitement. Since Aadam’s arm was a bit better now, he easily lifted Zaydaan and plopped a kiss on his nose. He was at that cute and podgy stage where his words were all mashed together and incoherence was his cutest attribute. He babbled on about something to Aadam while I hugged Rubeena and the other three, making our way into the house to see where my mother-in-law was.

Of course, she had taken over occupied in the kitchen and didn’t even bat an eyelid as all six of us made a rowdy entrance into her place of magic. I could already smell the yummiest chow mein and sizzling steak that was my all time favorite. My mouth was already watering.

“Howzit Ma,” Aadam said as he went up to her to greet. “Something smells good. New recipe?!”

Somehow Aadam knew just how to put his foot in it with his mother.

“No!” She snapped, her eyes narrowing at him. “Who told you that?! Can you believe that lady, that one that came home the last time to see my kitchen. She phoned last week to ask me for my recipe and I so graciously gave it to her. Little did I know she was planning to make it for the ladies function on Monday… and guess what?”

”Was it horrible?” Aadam asked hopefully.

”It’s not as good as I make it,” she said with a huff. “But everyone was going crazy about it and she never once even mentioned that it was my recipe! The cheek. Plus, I heard her tell her whole table about how Rubeena forced her husband to give her a divorce. Then she went on to talk about how my kitchen counters weren’t pure Caesar stone . Can you ever? How can people be so… evil?! Who even uses granite these days? What do they say about people like that? Better be careful… I just read my quls and avoided her for the rest of the night.”

Ah. The cooking drama’s of middle-aged women.

Aadam calmly tried to pacify his mother about how people are not jealous and don’t really wish bad, but are just like that because they admire her. She wasn’t buying it. Poor Aadam always tried to make every situation a positive one.

I glanced humorously at Ruby who was quieter than usual as she raised her eyebrows. Yes, my mother-in-law has been taking it slightly easier with me but it didn’t mean that she was being easy on Ruby. Her side comments were very evident of the fact that Rubeena’s life was far from her idea of perfect.

”So Khawlah,” my mother-in-law said, turning to me. I still felt awkward in her presence but at least she was being civil. “I hear your brother’s getting married.”

It wasn’t a question. She wanted more details. Ahmed wasn’t joking when he said that Aadam’s mother had taken a liking to him. He really had made an impression.

”I heard the girl is divorced with a child?” She pressed on, raising her eyebrows.

”Ma, can we stop doing the 411 on Khawlah?” Adam asked innocently.

I knew he was avoiding greater problems here but my mother-in-law shrugged it off as she continued to look at me.

”Jhee,” I said, a little unsure. How could I be rude? I had to answer her.

“Ahmed’s quite mature for his age… he feels it’s better to have a wife that will be more on his line of thinking…”

”Thats a lucky girl to bag an unmarried guy,” she said, raising her eyebrows. On the contrary, I thought Ahmed was lucky to find someone who tolerated his moods.

“But at least there’s hope for Ruby,” she continued casually. “I was worried that no man will ever be prepared to take on someone else’s kids, but this gives us both some assurance, doesn’t it, Rubeena?”

”Ooh, this food is too good to eat cold,” Aadam cut in to no-one in particular. He was looking at his mother, but the fact that she hadn’t eaten a bite didn’t faze her.

Rubeenas eyes were narrowing and my mother-in-laws voice was getting more high-pitched by the second. I had a feeling that Rubeena was really fighting her urges to say something that would put her in the ugly spotlight. Aadam’s father was watching the scene silently as my mother-in-law just went on and on…

And then of course, not unlike what I’ve seen before… almost as if she couldn’t tolerate it anymore… the expression on Rubeena’s face suddenly altered, and all of a sudden, almost as if she couldn’t help herself, she just erupted.

”Mum, please stop!” she snapped. “There’s more to life than bagging an idiotic guy.”

”Rubeena,” my father-in-law said meekly, his eyes widening in worry. “How’s about you show me where’s the dessert?”

“I wish I could,” she retorted. “But I cant even taste my food anymore! Ma, can you just give me a break? After you and Shabeer, and all your constant mental battering, don’t you think I’m already damaged enough? I definitely don’t need another man to come and mess up my life..!”

“You need a husband to be accepted in the community,” my mother-in-law said, and I honestly wished I could kick her under table. Only I knew that would go down well. My mother-in-law just didn’t get it.

”Mum, it’s not the end all and be all of life!” Rubeena said now, obviously a little fed-up. “Life is not only about extravagant houses and world-class kitchens and good-looking husbands. Ma, there’s a whole world out there that we know nothing about! There’s so much that Allah has promised us that we ignore and forget about just because we don’t see it right now. There’s a bigger picture, Mum… and there are so many more important things in life that when you realize them… it makes everything else that you thought was so huge look so amazingly insignificant.”

”Oh gosh, Ruby,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “You’re behaving like Ma now with your Bayaans. All I’m saying is you need to be more forward in your thinking…”

“I really don’t care about that right now!” Ruby snapped. “Sometimes things happen, and they open your eyes in a way you’ve never seen before. Sometimes life has many more lessons for us than we are willing to learn. Sometimes we get so caught up that we don’t realize that one day, we’re going to have to leave this world… and everything we have here behind us…. am I right, Adam?”

Adam was looking at Rubeena with his lips pursed and a stagnant expression on his face. I almost expected him to have something quirky to say back, but all he did was shrug as he glided his long fingers through his beard, and then glance at me a little warily.

”Ruby, don’t do this,” he said softly, and I could see him swallowing hard as she looked back at him… with a single tear rolling down her cheek.  “Not now…”

“Are you going to tell them or must I?” Rubeena said, her voice strained from emotion.

I watched them both in utter confusion as they looked at each other, speaking words through the silence that no-one but them could understand…

“Aadam, what’s going on?” I couldn’t help but ask, as he they sat there, just staring at each other.

”Sweets, I wanted to wait until you finished writing…” Aadam started, as he looked from me to my mother-in-law.

”Wait for what?” My mother-in-law asked with her brow furrowed and her attention immediately diverted as we watched them both.

And like a wave that came and knocked us completely off our feet, the news that they delivered was one of the most severest of blows.

“It’s Myeloma. A type of cancer that affects the bone, among other things… I suppose it explains his clumsiness…”

My mother-in-law was looking at him in utter shock. My father-in-law was stunned. I was completely speechless.

Inna lillahi wa Inna Ilaihi Rahioon. 

Oh yes. Sabr at the first test was so much easier said than done. I felt like I couldn’t breathe as I watched my husband, thinking how everything could suddenly be turned upside down in such a little time. Here I was, thinking we were living a comfortable little life, and out of the blue… a bomb just falls from nowhere at all. And what a bomb too…

“We were waiting for the final test results… and they’ve just come in today…” he started, trying to explain.

”Adam, is this a joke?” My mother-in-law asked, her eyes widened. “Because Siraj didn’t say a thing… if this is a joke I promise I’m going to whack you-“

”I told Uncle Siraj not to,” he said simply. “It’s not a joke, mum.. although I wish it was. I think the main thing is to be positive here… can we talk properly after we eat?”

“This can’t be happening,” she said with tears in her eyes. “You’re only twenty two… I don’t understand…”

”I’m still twenty-one, Mum,” Aadam said with a shadow of a smile. “For two more months. Don’t make me older than I am…”

“I have to go,” she said, her voice shaking as she shifted on her chair. “How can you expect me to eat? You acting like it’s so normal. I can’t do this, Adam …“

And with that she pushed her chair back noisily and stood up, walking to the kitchen almost in slow motion as all of us sat in semi-silence at the dining table.

My father-in-law was just staring into space, shocked out of his senses. Ruby was sobbing her eyes out in despair. Aadam was in no state to comfort anyone as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and refused to meet my eye.

Of course, I swallowed hard and said nothing as I got up… making my way out to where my mother-in-law was, not really planning how I was going to deal with this all of what I would say.. but knowing that someone had to keep this thing together… to remind them about the purpose of life… to renew their trust in Allah and in Qadr and whatever He wills…

And sometimes it takes a harsh situation to bring out the best in people. Sometimes it takes something bad to bring out the good. Sometimes we don’t know what Allah has in store for us until in time, we see the fruits that can come even from a once barren tree.

”Mummy,” I said, as I entered the kitchen and walked up to my mother-in-law who was standing with her back to me. I placed my hand on her shoulder as I drew nearer, not knowing what to say but feeling her pain all the same.

It was a moment in history that changed everything.

And just as I reached her and she turned to face me with emotion overflowing from her eyes, she couldn’t hold it together even a moment longer. It was as if everything within her was falling apart as she gripped me helplessly and burst into tears.

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Sunnah of Drinking water

Drink water while taking three breathing pauses. It is prohibited to drink water in a single gulp as our beloved Prophet Muhammad (SAW) said: “Do not drink water only in one breath, but drink it in two or three breaths.”

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When things get Complicated…

Bismihi Ta’ala

Rubeena

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

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

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

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

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

[Aal ‘Imraan 3:142] 

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

Well, that’s something like a superpower.

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

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

I could practically see her smiling through the receiver.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

P.S. I’m sorry…

A xx

Sunnah of Drinking water

Drink water while taking three breathing pauses. It is prohibited to drink water in a single gulp as our beloved Prophet Muhammad (SAW) said: “Do not drink water only in one breath, but drink it in two or three breaths.”

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When Mistakes Happen

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Rubeena

Nobody is perfect. We’re all trying to attain this thing… this thing called ‘perfection’. We live in a society that teaches us that our worth is based on how we look. On how attractive we can be. We strive for perfection. This unattainable state that we strive for … it has to be known that… its not natural.

I mean, why do you think lipo-suction was invented? Botox? Plastic surgery? This facade that runs in this world, like a 24-hour screenplay, is just that… Its not real. The pursuit of perfection limits our ability to be present and literally robs us of the vitality of life. It is unachievable, unimaginable, and frankly undesirable, so why pursue it? This idea that we are supposed to be perfect, is a huge lie. Because this world was not meant to be perfect. Everyone has flaws. Scars. Things that take away from that thing we call perfection.. and make it.. real.

And I think I need to emphasize it. Even when it comes to our character. Our deeds. Our misdeeds. What we achieve, and what we don’t achieve.

Yes, we strive for our best but being perfect does not mean that we are religious. Being on the perfect faith, despite its beauty, does not mean that we have to be perfect.

And this is the trap of Shaytaan. He tries convincing us that if we’re not worshipping Allah in a perfect way, then we might as well not bother trying at all. So if someone isn’t praying all thier prayers or isn’t praying at all, when they finally do stand up to offer a prayer, he will make them think, “Who am I kidding? Why should I even bother? Why would God accept my prayer now?”

Or if a woman is thinking of wearing the hijab but doesn’t cover up perfectly… or sins in certain ways, he will make her feel, “What’s the point in wearing it now?”

And it has to be said. We are not perfect. We make mistakes. A lot of them. Sometimes, we make the same ones, over and over. But this is, precisely, the characteristic that what makes become so beloved to our Creator. Allah does not say that His most beloved are those who don’t make any mistakes. The ones with that honor, are those who make the mistakes, and then turn to Allah in repentance.

Anas ibn Malik reported: The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “All of the children of Adam are sinners, and the best sinners are those who repent.”

Source: Sunan al-Tirmidhī 2499

And yeah, I’ve made my fair share of mistakes right? I mean, I’ve done some stupid things. I’ve made irresponsible choices. I let my heart rule my decisions. I’ve messed up some of my life because of it. But everyone makes mistakes. I just had a helluva lot to learn. 

“Where are they?”

My mother stood in front of me with her hands on her hips and a look of annoyance on her flawless face. I put my phone down for a minute as I looked at her, knowing Shabeer’s new message could wait. The only thing was with my mother, mistakes were unacceptable.

“Mum, they’ll be here just now,” I said, in the calmest and most composed voice that I could.

Gosh, sometimes my mother was a living test of patience.

“How inconsiderate,” she said now, opening the pot to check on the curry that was simmering.

The smell of prawns was making me feel a bit queasy, but I breathed out and rolled my eyes, hoping my mother wouldn’t see me.

“Mum, they’re newly married,” I said slowly, hoping she would get it this time. “They need to spend time together too. Adam did say not to wait for him.”

I knew that Adam had left early the morning after the function for business, and having only returned earlier today, I could imagine he wanted to spend some time with his new wife. Obviously, I didn’t ask him any of the details but I knew that they had spent their first night apart and their little time that had together was interrupted by Hannah’s gatecrashing.. which I felt immensely guilty about.

I sighed as I noted my mothers pout.

”Mum,” I said, my patience dwindling. “Just dish out.”

”No,” she said stubbornly, pursing her lips in that irate way that she usually did. “We will eat together.”

I gave up. Like really. What else did she expect of me?

Instead of opening my mouth and causing a scene, I took a walk to the calendar on the fridge, with Zaydaan planted on my hip, because that was precisely his sole aim for the past few weeks, because even two meters distance from me was too much for him.

I didn’t understand it. Boys. The entire male species were so needy.

I ignored mother’a muttering from behind me, turning a deaf ear and counting the days on the calendar.

One… two…. three…

I paused, breathing in.

No. It couldn’t be right.

I sucked in my breath as I counted again. And again. And a fourth time too.

And oh my goodness, I was absolutely appalled .

Twelve days. I was a whole 12 days late and I didn’t even know. What on earth was going on…?

I sucked in my breath as I tried to drown out my mothers voice,that was still going on about children and how overrated they are. She was kind of adding fuel to the fire.

I was panicking. Really panicking. I felt like something toxic was was rising up my chest, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Bloody Hell. 

Again, I had forgotten my reminders to myself. Yes, I had slipped a bit. Yes, I had been a bit negligent. Obviously, letting Shabeer back into my home and life was probably not such a great idea after all.

Patience. Gratitude.

Tawakkul, right? Or Was I just abusing the entire concept?

I sighed. And of course, I felt terrible.

I mean, there were people in the world who were struggling to fall pregnant, and here I was, on the brink of tears because I was almost certain that there was another baby on the way. How on earth was I going to manage? How could I be so stupid?

“Aaah,” my mother’s voice suddenly said as she glanced at the camera, and it was like I was hearing a completely different woman now. I actually had to turn and look, to see if it was really her speaking. “They’re here!”

I took a deep breath and exhaled, hoping that some of the anxiety would escape in the process. I honestly did not know how I was going to go through this. I felt like I was going to burst into tears at any second.

I pulled myslef together as I heard the pitter patter of bare feet running from the porch, simply because my boys knew the sound of Adam’s sports car from roads away.

“Heyyyy! As-salaamu-Alaykum..!”

I heard Adam’s voice almost immediately as the door was yanked open by my older two. I forgot my own drama for a moment and made my way to the entrance hall as their voices rose. Of course, they were ecstatic.

“How are my two giant monkeys?”

The boys giggled as Adam placed the box he was carrying down with a huge grin, and they immediately attacked it, like wild animals. Oh my goodness, boys were so uncultured. 

“Hey!” I couldn’t help but scream, as Khawlah came into view and greeted them affectionately, from somewhere behind Adam.

I smiled as I saw her, simply amazed at how beautiful she looked today.

Obviously, meeting my mother was not an event to be taken lightly, and I could see that she had made an extra effort. She wore slightly more attractive colours than usual, and the silk scarf draped around her head was gorgeous. With Khawlah though, as I could see was the case  with the rest of her family, no matter what they wore, they always looked stunning. I wished I had met Khawlah’s mother though… All of her siblings had amazing genes… anf amazing qualities too. And yes, being superficial was a streak I got from my mother. Of course, it was a major downfall, but for my mother, I knew the whole striving to impress would be necessary.

The boys were excitedly obsessing over the toys that Adam and Khawlah had brought for them, and I went forward to greet them too, hoping to ease some of her nerves. Although it wasn’t the first time she was meeting my parents, I could immediately tell that Khawlah was anxious. Of course, I also still felt bad about letting Shabeer to her home and causing havoc… and I knew I needed to apologise to her in person as well.

“How are you?” I asked her, holding her hand tightly as I greeted. I could hear my father coming up behind us too, ad I moved aside as he nodded greeted the two of them affectionately and smiled at the kids.

Of course, my mother was no-where to be seen. All that ranting and raving and now… no sign at all. Typical.

“Howzit Rubes?” Adam said to me, and as he came forward, I almost wanted to cry on his shoulder. Adam just had that intimate way of asking a regular question, that made me want to pour my heart out.

Not now, I reminded myself, trying to keep it together. Don’t spoil today for them.

I had a feeling my mother was already onto the spoiling mission.

If only I had just listened. After all, besides his texts, I hadn’t heard seen in two days. He had made an appearance in the week, convincing me that things with Hannah will be sorted and settled once and for all… and then he disappeared again. I had a feeling she was milking him for cash. Money was always really important to her, and I was actually becoming really annoyed that she was not just backing off and leaving him alone. He had made it clear that it was over…

Stupid, I berated myself. Stupid, stupid girl.

I sighed. I didn’t understand why he was acting like such a doormat. I wasn’t even sure if he was telling me the truth when he said that Hannah’s baby wasn’t his. He had said it was a mistake. I actually didn’t even know what the truth was any more. I wasn’t even sure if I had cared… until about ten minutes ago. My heart thudded uncontrollably as I thought of it. I. Could. Not. Deal.

“Where’s mum?”

Adam’s voice cut through my panicky thoughts as they both looked at me expectantly.

I let out an exasperated sigh.

Now, since you do know a little about my mother already, let me tell you the rest. While my father was easy-going and mostly a pleasure being around, my mother… well, lets just say… wasn’t.  She made things difficult. Incredibly difficult. If she didn’t like someone, she didn’t hide it. If she wasn’t happy with something, she’d make sure you know it. My mother, was, in short… an incredibly outspoken, short-fused and expressive person. In short, her staying away from them was already a signal that she wasn’t very happy.

“Err…” I said, scrunching my face slightly as I tried to explain.

“She’s upset, yeah?”

Adam was spot on. She was upset. About what exactly, I honestly didn’t know.

“Let me go and talk to her,” he said, turning to Khawlah and squeezing her shoulder assuringly, before he walked off. I could see that he had a small gift bag in his hand, and I was so glad that he did. A little bribery never hurt anyone.

Khawlah looked at me with a worried look on her face, and I smiled apologetically, asking her how her week was, hoping to kill the tension that was increasing as my mother failed to make an appearance. And then of course, at long last, I heard a shockingly perky voice from the dining hall, calling us to eat.

I seated the kids quickly on the kitchen table, grateful to have Khawlah’s help as they obliged with no fuss at all, loving that she was here. She read their Duaa’ for them, and as I watched her, honestly, I wasn’t sure how she had so much of patience with them. She had an amazing nature. Her ability to just cajole and console them was completely out of this world. Instead of screaming and going crazy on them, like I would never hesitate to do, she instantly turned the entire thing into a game that not only intrigued them, but also got them to eat their entire contents of their plate in no time at all. Maybe it was just easier when the kids weren’t your own.

We took a seat in the next room as my mother and Adam insisted we do so, because well, he needed to make up for being ‘late’. He also said that it was a an etiquette that he learnt from his Molvi for the people to be seated first, before the food was on the table. Despite my father saying he would help my mother, Adam insisted that he would be the one to bring the dishes to the table. That was my brother.  Where I couldn’t care less if my mother was upset about stupid things, Adam had always gone out of his way to ensure that everyone was content. He had an amazing quality that obviously made him a favourite in everyone’s books. I had a lot to learn… a lot that I could rectify.

And of course, the chatter continued as Adam spoke about his trip to a company in Mozambique that he was doing work for, and though I could see that Khawlah and my mother didn’t speak much, it didn’t strike a chord with me. To be honest, even I barely spoke to my mother… so, to put it lightly, it didn’t faze me at all.

Maybe I should have took her prior annoyance as a sign of possible break-down. I don’t know. My mother was usually so “together”. Besides, I was, understandably, a little bit too caught up in my own thoughts to actually pay attention to anything, leave alone the socialising, and leaving my mother’s helper to see to the kids for a bit, I concentrated on trying to put as many nutrients down my throat as possible. I silently willed for it to stay down. I’ve always heard that eating prawns in early pregnancy was not a wise idea… I just didn’t realise exactly why. The fishy smell was unsettling my already queasy tummy.

“So where’s next?” My father asked, always interested in Adam’s visits to especially the more rural countries. It was such an eye-opener when I heard of how basic things were. We were so accustomed to luxury, that we forgot how lucky we were. I wasn’t sure if my mother even listened, because for her, no luxury she had was enough.

Although Adam often went for business only, I know that he recently also hooked up with some people that his Molvi knew, that did work in those countries,  and went out for distribution of packages as well. I admired the fact that he took out time to do it himself. To help people in need. I knew many people who sent money for charitable aid, but to do it yourself was so much more effective. I could only imagine how it changed your heart… made you see things in a completely different light.

“I hope you taking Khawlah with next,” I piped up, and almost wished that I had just sat in my little corner of nausea and just shut my big mouth, because my mother gave me such a death stare that I  swallowed my next words.

I inhaled deeply, fighting the urge to explode on her.

“Well, actually,” Adam said, thankfully not noticing my mothers glare and glancing at me as he spoke. “I have some big news.”

“News?” my mother said, looking from Adam to my father, with a distinct look of unhappiness on her face.

I too, was curious.

“Well, I just got the text when I came back,” he said, his facing kind of glowing. “I’ve told Khawlah that it’s something I’ve really wanted to do and I’d really -”

“You told her?” My mother said, cutting him off and glancing at Khawlah with such venom that I literally wanted to crawl under the table.

“Yeah, mum,” Adam said steadily as he continued. “She’s my wife.”

I was glad that Adam had made it clear but my mother was hearing none of it. There was pin-drop silence before my mother spoke again. Even my father didn’t dare say a word.

“You told her before you told me?”

Okay, this was getting embarrassing. Maybe even a little worse than when Hannah had turned up at the wedding house.

My father had kind of zoned out, in shock. I closed my eyes, wondering if this was actually real. I didn’t even want to look at Khawlah. I almost had to pinch myslef, to check if I was dreaming. Well, rather, nightmare-ing. 

Adam spoke to  my mother steadily.

“Yes, I did,” he said, obviously wondering what the big deal was. “And now, I’d love to tell you, Mum.”

I opened one eye. Now you have to understand, for my mother to appear even in a slight state of discomposure, was a really huge deal. You had to be perfect. On your best behaviour. Right now, my mother’s face looked like she had bitten into a sour lemon.

“Well,” she said in an acid voice, not even giving him a chance to continue. “It’s obvious whose most important now. You can tell your father. I don’t want to know!”

And with that she pushed her chair back with a noisy screech, tossed her hair back as she got up, and simply walked out.

Uh-oh. I cringed, knowing that we’d all have a lot of clearing up to do… and it wasn’t just about the table.

To start off on the wrong footing with my mother was like a death sentence.

Adam had made the hugest mistake ever.

---

Dearest Readers,

Despite the reality of what happens sometimes when a couple is married.. and the issues that can arise with controlling and difficult mothers, I know everyone is probably wondering whats Adam’s big news.. Any ideas?!

Please note that posts may be a bit slower as we approach the days of Dhul Hijjah. Allah has created some months and days and nights better than others, when rewards are multiplied many times, as a mercy towards His slaves. This encourages them to do more righteous deeds and makes them more eager to worship Him. We make special Du’aa for our Haajis and try to spend these days effectively. 

Allah Swears an oath by 10 days of Dhul-Hijjah, and swearing an oath by something is indicative of its importance and great benefit. Allah says (what means): “By the dawn and by the 10 nights (i.e. the first 10 days of the month of Dhul-Hijjah)…” [Qur’an 89: 1-2]
Ibn ‘Abbaas, Ibn Az-Zubayr, Mujaahid and others of the earlier and later generations, may Allah have mercy upon them, said that this refers to the first 10 days of Dhul-Hijjah. Ibn Katheer, may Allah have mercy upon him, said: “This is the correct opinion.” [Tafseer Ibn Katheer, 8/413]
The Prophet, sallallaahu ‘alaihi wa sallam, encouraged people to do righteous deeds because of the virtue of this season for people throughout the world, and also because of the virtue of the place – for the pilgrims to the Sacred House of Allah.

May Allah make it easy for us to benefit! Do remember me in your Du’aas!

 

phet :

“He used to sleep early at night, and get up in its last part to pray, and then return to his bed.”

When we have a million things to do, it is easy to fall into a horrible cycle of sleeping late and waking up late.

Break that cycle today! Wake up early and sleep early to be the strong, successful and all that you want to be, In sha Allah.

Let’s revive this Sunnah InshaAllah!

How easy to practise!

#revivetheSunnahof Sleepingearly

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq

 

#missionsunnahrevival 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#revivetheSunnahofeating

Twitter @ajourneyjournal

IG: @thejourneyingmuslimah

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Broken

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem 

Zuleikha

“I feel like I’ve seen you before.”

Yousuf’s pale face immediately reddened as he said it, and he looked away, slightly embarrassed.

Wasn’t that like the cheesiest line, like ever?

“Shucks,” he muttered, obviously realizing what he said. And of course, what I was thinking.

“I’m sorry,” he said, all flustered. “I don’t know why I would say something so stupid.”

I wanted to laugh, but I didn’t. I was actually kind of glad he said that. It was a good ice breaker.

I finally got the guts to look up at him, swallowing nervously as I did so.

My worst fears dissolved. He wasn’t ugly. Thank goodness. He was far from it. Somehow I was glad I had made a little effort. Maybe Foi Nani wasn’t that old after all. She kind of knew her stuff when it came to impressing people.

What was most intriguing thing about him though, wasn’t his dazzling smile or his perfect nose.

It was the fact that he was just focusing on me. And okay, maybe I was the only other person on this partition of the dining area, but I had met boys before who would be trying to talk to me, but trying to suss out what venture is next at the same time. As I looked back at him, albeit a little shyly. I wanted to kick myself too, because I had judged him because he said it.

I felt like I knew him too.

Corny, yes. But I’d definitely seen him before.

“Did you go to tuition?” I asked him spontaneously. I wasn’t even thinking.

All I was thinking was; that was probably the place I had seen him. I didn’t want to think further than that because it was also the place where I had done a lot of unmentionable things.

I didn’t want to even go there. I flushed as I thought about it, wishing I didn’t mention it.

He shook his head. He didn’t look like the type that went for mass tuition. He was probably really intelligent too . He had passed his final year and was doing his boards. He said that he wanted to go back to madrassa. We had stopped there when he realized that he knew me from somewhere.

Why must I always open my big mouth?

It was a typical example of the past coming back to haunt me. I’ve heard people talk about it happening before but I never believed it. When you did things in jest, just for the fun of it, you only think about it with remorse when it’s too late.

I shivered, remebering those winter afternoons after Mama passed away… feeling that sinking feeling all over again. The coldness had sunken into my thoughts and bones… and darkness had engulfed from all angles. How great was Allah that he had brought me out of it?

The greatest part was that he made me come out of my sinful ways.

“Are you okay?”

He could see that faraway look on my face and Yousuf was concerned. He sounded so … caring. Concerned. Was it for real or was he just playing the part? My life had made me so skeptical of everyone around me.

This boy was just the perfect balance. He wasn’t an overly ambitious charmer or smooth talker. He looked genuinely concerned. My whole life had gone chasing the things that I had always been lacking. My pursuits were always to try and fill that gaping hole that lay within.  I wasn’t sure what it was about me.

I wasn’t strong like Khawlah. Although she fully understood, she had barely shed a tear when Mama died. Every day for me was a reminder of that gap Mama had left when she had gone. My heart grieved her loss in a way that was terminal… The pain didn’t go away. I was broken.

But even with that, I knew, within the cravices of my  very soul, I truly believed that a strong person could lift me up again. That a solid heart that was filled with the love of the One who Created it, could heal. It’s what I needed to make myself stronger… and to build my faith up once again. Yes, I had been weak at one point, but I was on the road to recovery once again. Some people could do it on their own… but some people, like me, needed help to get themselves to be the best believers. To get themselves thriving spiritually, once again.

Suhaib RadhiAllahu Anhu narrated : Allah’s Nabi Sal Allahu ‘Alayhi wa Sallam said. “Strange is the case of a believer, there is good for him in everything, and this is only for the believer. If a blessing reaches him, he is grateful to Allah which is good for him, and if an adversity reaches him, he is patient which is good for him.”

[Muslim]

I wished that I could achieve that, and truly understand the gift of being a true believer. As I looked at Yousuf, I could see he showed signs of someone who was Islamic. Not just there, at the borderline, like Abba had become now, but completely devoted.

He wore a traditional kurta with no distinct branding, and his beard seemed to be grown freely with no fashionable adjustments. I knew about these things because Mama used to always tell Abba about them. After Mama died, Abba’s beard had diminished to close to nothing. I just knew Mama would like Yousuf too.

A large noise that sounded like it was just outside the house caught us both off guard, and Yousuf glanced at me, looking really worried.

“Is this area safe?” He asked, immediately getting up and going towards the passage door. He looked slightly anxious. Maybe he had a bad experience in the past.

I wasn’t scared. It was probably nothing. This area wasn’t the safest but we were so used to those noises that it didn’t even faze us anymore.

I took the opportunity to grab a samoosa that was lying on the table nearby, just because my tummy was virtually empty since the morning. With my nerves the way they had been, and Foi Nani making it worse, I had barely been able to put a thing into my mouth.

I walked toward the passage too, seeing Khawlah and Yunus peeping out of the lounge door.

At that moment, the spicy samoosa caught in my throat, and it wasn’t just because of the ambitious flavoring.

It was Aunty Nas, who literally kicked open our front door, and stood there with a vengeance.

Aunty Nas wore purple wedged boots, grey tights and a pink floral sleeveless top. Her hair was it’s usual blonde colour, and it stuck out on the top of her head, almost as if she had gotten shocked.

I wondered what happened to her. Her clothes were way to young for her age. I knew the latest fashion trends, and this was far from it. She had looked so much better on those days when she would adorn the abaya and hijab. This was a cheap alternative.

”My goodness,” she said sarcastically as she spotted Yousuf and Abba coming to the front to see what the din was about. “I heard what’s going on here. Aren’t we just a happy little family today?!”

She said the last few words in a mocking tone, raised her eyebrow and glared at Abba. Abba shifted uncomfortably. Aunty Nas seemed upset.

I looked around me and could see Yousuf’s father there too.

He was staring in shock. Yousuf too was in shock, but he calmly backed away. I could see him headed back to the couch to sit, ready to continue our conversation. The only problem was that now my head was completely out of it. There was no way I could form any audible words with this woman in our home.

”Let’s go to the other room,” Abba said to Aunty Nas, making his way out of the room. He gestured for her to follow but she didn’t. She stared at us all scornfully, with her hands on her hips.

Her face was scrunched up and her expression was tired. She looked like she was charged up for something, but Abba’s reaction to her didn’t allow her to vent. He had forced her to apply brakes and her fuel was running low.

“I’m not going anywhere!” She shouted, and my father turned and raised his eyebrows at her.

All of us four siblings were now gathered in the entrance hall, half awaiting the common hissing and unfiltered arguments that would usually come. We  looked at each other with hesitation, unsure of what to make of the whole thing.

Why was she here now? What was really going on?

I just wanted her to go away.

“I think they’re going to kill each other,” Ahmed said under his breath, watching them from where we stood.

The four of us clung together like our lives depended on it. It was one thing we held onto always, no matter who was the target. From the day this woman had become an additional limb of our home, we were in this together and always would be.

That would never change.

Just when I thought Aunty Nas was going to turn back, it seemed like her reserve kicked in, and much to our shock and dismay, she started screaming in utter dementia. She sounded like a lunatic.

It was one grievance after another, about how my father emotionally abused her, and how disobedient his children were. She had to add in how corrupt our minds are and how we have thieves that live here. It was like she was possessed by some kind of demonic force, and she didn’t move or stop as she accused us all of the worst of things.

It seemed like she was nearly done, and although she had caused a lot of damage, all was not yet lost.

Aunty Nas had gathered an audience now, and even if she didn’t, everyone in the house had probably heard her.

“Must we leave?”

A voice whispered from behind us, and I could see Yusrah giving me a polite smile as she spoke. Yousuf’s sister seemed really pleasant and quite amusing too. We chatted about quite a few things, and we got along really well. I just hated that they were witnessing all of this. Aunty Nas at her worst tantrum.

“We can come back,” she said when I didn’t answer.

She wasn’t so convincing. If they left now, they would probably never come back to this crazy house. We would have to do something to redeem ourselves. We would have to do something now, before this gets any worse.

Foi Nani was now in the front of the house where all the commotion was going on. Her walking stick in hand, she was trying to appear threatening without actually attacking. Her face dark with anger and her no-nonsense voice was on. Vexation was settling in, and her patience was at it’s wits end.

How dare this woman cause such a scene at this important event? 

“Nasreen,” she was saying firmly. “You need to leave or we will call the cops. You have other problems you must deal with. This is not the time for all of this.”

Foi Nani was right. She knew it. We knew it too. We could work on this at another time. Abba was trying to tell her too. I could hear him saying something else, but I didn’t understand what he meant. Problem? What problem did she have? 

She understood that now it was a threat and she knew that we meant serious business. And just when I thought she was about to relent and leave, her gaze shifted around for a few seconds. It darted back and forward, and she ran her hands anxiously through her frazzled hair as she did so. Within a few second, it settled, and almost as if I expected it, I felt it on  none other than myself.

She stared straight into me, for a few seconds, and I could literally feel the hairs at the back of my neck start to stand. It was almost as if she was seeing beyond me. She looked broken.

Her body was shaky, and her finger trembled as she pointed. She didn’t look okay.

A small, evil smile crept onto her face and to my utter horror, she let out a final blow.

“If only they knew what you are really like,” she said to me with a slight tremble, but a steady gaze. “That rich boy in the red BMW that used to pick you up every Friday… a tramp like you doesn’t even deserve that.”

And with that she turned and tossed her hair back as she walked out through the broken door, leaving a family that was broken once, broken once again.