When Doorways are Brightened

Bismihi Ta’ala

Jameela

Part 55

When the light of Islam started spreading to people during the lifetime of our beloved Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam), if there is one outstanding lesson that stayed with me… it is that every change, every stage where conditions are altered, has only benefit for the believer.

And that was why this particular Hadith rang so true:

“Amazing is the affair of the believer, verily all of his affair is good and this is not for no one except the believer. If something of good/happiness befalls him he is grateful and that is good for him. If something of harm befalls him he is patient and that is good for him”

(Saheeh Muslim #2999)

And as I glanced out at the beauty of the skies on that particular afternoon, nothing was clearer to me than the fact that like everything thing else, even the constant change of affairs for the believer, only comes with great goodness.

Because often we become blind to the fact, that if only we look at the life of our blessed Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam), even during the most turbulent times… there was so much to be learnt. So much to note… that when the elation of victory came to his ears, he taught us to smile with appreciation… and at the most gut-wrenching experiences, even he (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) didn’t hold back his tears. In every avenue, our beloved Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) taught us, through his life and his Seerah, that throughout every stage Allah puts us through, throughout every test, there is a beautiful result that not only moulds us, but polishes us to such an extent that we are the ones that shine eternally.

And in the books of Seerah, we understand the truth of these conditions that are so graciously taught. We are shown that after the tragic death of his beloveds, Allah Ta’ala brought our Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam)on a spectacular journey to the heavens. After the aching torture of Ta’if, awaited for him melodious songs of the joyous Ansaar as he entered their city. After the heart-wrenching brutality of Uhud and the heartbreaking loss of his beloved uncle, would be a glorious victory at the conquest of Makkah, that sent hearts soaring infinitely…

After every season, every drought, every difficulty… Allah Azza Wa Jal brings forth something so much more splendid… sometimes even beyond what one can ever encompass.

And I was all caught up in my amazement, revelling in the blooming beauties after the winter chills. Spotting the first rose bud of the new season through the front doorway had already brightened my entire day.

I could barely digest the sight of the gorgeously promising stems and shoots, which were boasting their fervour, full of purply-red potential, and as I breathed in the crisp air letting its freshness fill my lungs until I could breathe in no more, I couldn’t help but let my eyes devour their glorious beauty. I wasn’t even sure how we had gotten to this point.

Ah, life. Once again. After the crop has dried and reduced to something that seems irretrievable, Allah’s promise is that He puts His magic into it, and once again, it gets you inundated with splendour over it.

A new change. A new chance. For us, as human beings, it had become such a strange thing. As our lives morphed and changed into captures and content creation, I sometimes wondered if we were even living, or just pretending to.

Turning my face toward the sun, I wondered how humans had been so deluded. I wondered how we willingly traded those real moments for fake ones. How we traded the feeling of being in a moment, to just capturing it. How we compete, in every sense of the word, for virtual lives.

But now… as I savoured the feeling of wet soil, my hands giving into the sensorial experience, after what felt like months…  I felt completely awakened. Inspired. Hopeful. The potential that new opportunities had brought… the medicine that nature had brought in its indulgence, well, I almost couldn’t believe that it was already a whole year since I started and all my plants were still pretty much surviving. Well, most of them anyway…

One, two, three…. well… all the way to sixteen, I had counted.

Though I loved the beauty and grandeur they brought, I wasn’t exactly the dedicated type. I often got caught up in parellel universes and forgot when next I was supposed to be planting but if I wasn’t completely deluded, it seemed like there were actually a few more rose plants than I original had.

I wasn’t sure how that had happened but I did know that Papa had seen to the garden once or twice or at least facilitated it. I just didn’t know who had manicured them so expertly that they looked like they were living an entirely new life.

They were extremely thirsty, but it had not gone without any noticeable advantages. The shoots had appeared almost overnight, with two tiny buds visible, and I knew that the efforts were surely not wasted.

The blazing sun had been tormenting me that day as I squatted next to the flower bed with my gardening set, feeling like I had probably gone fifty shades of sunburnt in that short space of time. Sweat trickled down my chest, but I really didn’t even bother.
I had pulled the bucket out once again with the wheel barrow, making my way to the front of the garden to fill up for the third time now, not realizing what a racquet I was making in the process until I heard the voice of the outdoor worker that Papa used.

“He is asking if we must do it for you?” A voice called out from behind me, in his Zimbabwean accent. “We will water here later.”

I turned slightly, feeling a little awkward.

Firstly, who was the he in question? And secondly, well, how did they even know I was here.

Being a Monday afternoon, when the coffee shop closed, I really expected I had no idea that the noisy wheelbarrow that was passing by the front house every ten minutes had caused a little more of a stir than intended.

“Sorry,” I called, looking at the guy briefly, trying to see if the ‘he’ in question was really him, and wondering if he was watching me.  I mean, was dressed decently but I looked like a hobo, but that was the least of my worries right then. “Who will water them?”

“Zubair say it is better to water them later.”

I nodded. So it was him.

Zubair says. I glanced backwards, glimpsing only the shadow of a figure in the window of the front house. How long he may have been standing there, I wasn’t sure.

But anyway. He was right. I had forgotten. And I was busy with them so I thought I might as well do it. I was lazy to come back later when the sun was a little less severe, and I had no idea he did it personally  every day. In fact, I had a strong feeling that he was probably responsible for its survival.

“Okay,” I said bluntly, closing the water and hoping he would go back inside. “Later is fine.”

After all, it was my home. I just didn’t realise that Zubair had no life outside work and that he did nothing on his day off but watch all the crazy things I got up to. I mean, where was his family? I was itching to ask Papa why he never visited them. It was just so strange.

And as I lowered my head and moved toward the house, taking my personal tools with me, I couldn’t help but feel a little inadequate.

He probably thought I was this silly airhead just interfering with the roses. It was obvious that he had probably been taking care of them all this time, but it didn’t mean that I couldn’t play my part.

And that too, I knew I had to avoid trying to see him now, because well, I knew I had to watch myself. Lower my gaze. Lower my gaze. Lower my gaze.

I mean, I couldn’t stop reminding myself enough but it was really hard. Plus, I wasn’t there for any sinister intentions so I would make more effort to prove my dedication, and ask Papa to drop me off at the nursery that week where I had bought the potted roses from.

Although it wasn’t a fully fledged nursery, I loved what they had done with the place and every time I went there, I just couldn’t help but feel so much at ease.

The thing was, The Rose Lady with the cute little girl, whose name I had come to learn to learn was Khawlah, actually owned the entire place and opened her wonderful garden up to disadvantaged children. She had the most amazing plants and set-up, and the tree! There was nothing more I wanted to do than just sit there with a book and dose off while I listened to the sound of birds teetering above me. And not only did she open it up as a play area… but she had also mentioned that her husband also did Hifdh classes there… which made the place even more amazing.

And of course, my heart was completely melted because the last time I went, there were a whole bus of underprivileged smaller kids who had come to make use of the facilities, while she taught them how to plant seedlings, and they were just so amazing to watch.

I wasn’t sure what her story was, but I remembered her daughter telling me once that her Abba had passed away before she was born and he had cancer. I wanted to cry when she had said it, ok such a indifferent way, almost as if it was a very natural thing to happen. And though I didn’t know any more than that, every time I met the lady, she was so sincere in whatever she did and always gave me extra seedlings to plant and so much of advice, that I kept wanting to go back to support her…

And as I entered the house, still lost in my thoughts, I sincerely hoped that one day,l I could hear and learn from her story. My mind was still stuck on that gorgeous garden, when my sisters voice rang out next to me, making me jump with shock.

“There you are!”

I looked up as I heard her voice, a smile creeping on my face because this was one of the best surprises today. I didn’t even know that Mohsina was back from the farm and the fact that she was here was an immediate anti-depressant.

“Tell me Zaid is here?” I said, hugging her tightly and  looking hopeful, but also knowing that he sometimes went to Liyakets mother when they were

Mohsina’s bright smile was even more promising.

”He is,” she said, as my mother came in with my little sweetheart, and honestly, seeing him made me feel as if my heart was going to burst. I had missed him so, so much.

”Did you tell Nani you are coming?” I said, taking Zaid from my mother whilst she dialled someone on the landline and went out again.

“Ma just did,” she said with a sheepish grin. “And Maahira is also popping in. She’s going back next week after the last Samoosa run. Really waiting to hear about that one! Anyway, I desperately needed to get away from the house. Rabia is driving me bonkers and Hamzah is completely oblivious. He’s not even in a rush to move. I feel like I need to run away.”

Uh oh. I knew that Mohsina’s sister-in-law was a bit of a nosy one, but I didn’t quite understand that she could be so manipulative. At least it was a temporary arrangement that they were all together till their place was ready. But if Hamzah wasn’t ready to move, well….

“Soon you’ll have your space,” I said soothingly, as she rolled her eyes, looking outside as the men left for salaah and Zaid gurgled into my neck.

“If she doesn’t decide she’s moving in with us,” Mohsina retorted, making her way to the three seater couch in the interleading room, and plugged something into the wall. She looked exhausted as she rolled her eyes.

I looked at it, a little confused at first as I saw her opening her cloak, when realisation dawned. I could not believe that I had forgotten!

“Oh my word, Mos,” I squealed, widening my eyes and looking at her as she narrowed her eyes at me. “I completely forgot. How’s the whole dudu-thing going?”

She flushed slightly as she fiddled with her shawl, trying to adjust herslef so she didn’t expose anything unsightly, and then smiled. It really was a tricky thing, this breastfeeding thing, wasn’t it?

“The Dudu thing is making me feel like a cow,” she said, not looking impressed.

I tried not to pay too much attention as the low hum of the pump sounded; playing with Zaid as he cooed and blubbered obliviously.

”Sorry about the noise,” she said, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “Trying to increase supply. It’s like a mission to pump, and you don’t understand how sore it is. It’s just as well that Zaid doesn’t have teeth.”

I grinned.

Now, that, would definitely be funny.

“Hey,” she squealed, not impressed by my concealed giggles as I turned my face away. “Not you too. Hamzah finds the entire thing very amusing. Calls me Cow in the City. Just rude, if you ask me. You guys don’t understand how much of pressure it is. Wanting to succeed. Why don’t you guys try and see how this feels?”

”No way!” I said, looking at her squarely, and then cracking a smile. “Did you offer Hamzah to try too?”

I laughed at the thought while Mohsina just shook her head and gave a small smile as Zaid rolled over and got into crawling position on the carpet. I couldn’t believe he was already so big. It was only a few weeks and he was already like a little man.

“Hamzah just has a big mouth,” she said after a few seconds, rolling her eyes again. “But shame, he helps a lot. I’m quite surprised. Although he is regretting being my Hifdh teacher. It’s the only time I actually see him looking like he may lose his cool. He says he needs more cheesecake supply as payment…”

Mohsina was grinning as she said it, but I was honestly so happy that she actually started with this part of her journey. I knew that she really wanted to start with classes or something else worthwhile.

Honestly, it was the most romantic that the Qur’ān had actually brought them together…

That was like Muslim couple goals.

“You’re lucky he has the patience for it,” I said, thinking how sweet it was. I mean, that was what I wanted. The romantic kind of Muslim love story that couples used each other to get to Jannah together with…

She shrugged, obviously not realising how lucky she really was to find such a good guy after everything, as we heard voices entering the entrance hall. I realised that Maahira or Nani had probably arrived, and Mohsina looked at me, as she answered.

“I know,” she said solemnly, almost as if she read my mind, with a small smile, as Maahira entered. “He’s a great teacher.”

Maahira had literally entered the room, looking af Mohsina with a sly smile as she heard what she just said.

”Who’s a good teacher, eh?” She said with a smirk. “And what exactly is he teaching?”

Mohsina laughed and got up to hug her friend, eager to catch up with all the lost time in between the wedding and Maahira leaving for London again. Since Maahira had been down, it had only been a few times that they had seen each other before Mos made Nikah and then everything just got even more crazy after.

I sat quietly in the corner with Zaid, while I listened to  her talking about the Samoosa run escapades that made her lose hope in ever being married. Now she was ready to go back and hope for better luck next time.

“Or you might find someone in London?” I piped up hopefully, seeing how much Maahira wanted to settle down. And I got it. She wasn’t getting younger. But also, I knew Allah would reveal the right person to get at the right time…

“Yup, but in my circles they won’t exactly do the Samoosa run Halaal kind of way,” she said simply, looking deflated.

“I got a plan though,” Mohsina said, looking at Maahira with a cheeky grin. “Maybe Hamzah and I can come visit and we can make our own kind of Samoosa runs. You know? Hamzah can pick a guy from one of those Turkish places and bam. Why can’t the guys family do all the Samoosa frying for a change?”

Maahira laughed, while they chatted about what the outcomes there would be, while I found my mind actually musing over it too. I mean, okay, maybe not exactly the Samoosa thing, but if a women had to put forward proposals more often and it was actually not looked down as being immodest or forward….

“But why not?” I said, just voicing my thoughts and shrugging just shoulders. “After all, Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) accepted a proposal from Khadijah (RA) and it wasn’t frowned upon at all. She saw him, she admired him, and she put forward her proposal. She was wealthier and shared everything with him thereafter.. What’s wrong with it?”

Maahira agreed, and winked at me.

“You’re right, Jamz,” she said with a grin. “The next guy that I fancy, I’m definitely going to talk to his mother. And you should do it too.”

And while she laughed it off, I couldn’t help but notice Mohsina sneak a sideways glance at me, while I remained silent. For a moment, I was sure that there was a flicker of something in Mohsina’s eye but she didn’t say anything, until Maahira left the seating area to take Zaid to look out the window, while he cooed noisily.

”Jameela,” she said quietly, her brown eyes narrowing slightly as she watched me. “Are you still entertaining thoughts about that guy?”

Oh gosh. Why did I have to put my foot in it.

“What guy?” I said innocently, pulling at a thread on the carpet. I didn’t meet her eye.

“You know who I’m talking about,” she muttered quietly. “You’re still young for marriage. Why don’t you study or something? Get something to secure you. Anything.”

I shrugged. I wasn’t interested in studying, especially not as a security. While Mohsina still believed that a degree was essential, I was pretty content doing a small business or something creative if ever I needed to. I loved to draw, had learned to sew that year … and I really enjoyed designing things too.

After all, I had designed the rooms that were being put up for the glamping site. I was sewing the aprons that the cashier and coffee shop workers used too. I loved using my hands and working with them. It was a constant thing that kept me busy.

The corporate world though, was most definitely not for me, because I had seen first hand how it sucked every ounce out of my sister. I had hated it. If I had to study, an Islamic course, or something at the local madrassa would be better for me. Just not right then.

“I’m happy where I am,” I said. “I help daddy with the coffee shop and the new project. I can bake. Sew. Or do other stuff to earn money. Whatever. And I’m going to be 19 soon…”

Mohsina wasn’t quite impressed though.

”Still too young,” she snapped. “And you know you shouldn’t even think of him. He’s not  an option. He’s got no proper job. No money. No degree. He’s dangerous, in every sense of the word, and I don’t want to see my sister getting hurt.”

Dangerous.

Was he really? I mean, I had believed he was but for the past few months, there was nothing further from danger that I saw. He was kind and polite, went to the mosque for every salaah, plus he was modest and extremely well- mannered. Everyone who met him spoke well of his demeanor. I’d never spoken to him unnecessarily or directly, but everything I saw about him wasn’t what she made it out to be.

Mohsina was just forming her own invalid opinions in her head and I didn’t think it was fair. Not fair at all actually.

“I’m not going to get hurt,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s not like that.”

I wasn’t sure how to tell her. Like when you like someone, well… why couldn’t I ask my father for advice? Papa seemed to love him to bits. Maybe he didn’t have money or status, but all that wasn’t important to me. All I wanted was someone who was good and kind and looked after me.

“Just stay away from him,” Mohsina whispered, as Ma and Nani walked into the room now. “Else you know what will happen.”

I sighed, looking at my sister, feeling a little down as I watched Nani go all gaga over her and Zaid, before Hamzah made his appearance after Salaah, and the attention would probably be diverted. I couldn’t even argue my point with her now. Since Mos had mentioned it, I really wondered if she was right. Perhaps I was being a bit too hasty.

And as the rest of them got busy yapping about nothing in particular, and Hamzah and my brother entered on the other side of the lounge, the noise levels were just a little overbearing. And I knew I was being a little grumpy because of what Mohsina had just told me, but I couldn’t help how I felt.

I had made my way to the kitchen to grab a few drinks and clear my head, and just as I opened the fridge, the sound of our house bell had already sounded. And of course, with me being closest to the door, it only made sense that I should be the one to get it. With all the excitement (mostly Nani’s, when she saw Hamzah), who knew if they even heard the bell?

And so, tucking three drinks under my arm, and two in my one hand, so I could free up the other hand to answer the door, I peeped through the window to the right of the door, seeing a Muslim girl at the front patio.

And yes, I was a little paranoid since the last time when our doorway was darkened by Zubair and his uncle, but looking out to see a hijaabi girl with a pretty smile on her face… my heart was already settled.

Pulling the door open, I had plastered a pleasant smile on my face. I had assumed that maybe it was someone who just came to the house instead of the coffee shop, or someone who probably needed directions…

And as I greeted, she hastily replied to my greeting, and while doing so, something in her expression just made me feel at ease with her. For some reason, it felt like I met her before, but I knew I didn’t…

”I’m so sorry,” she breathed, her face all exasperated and full of expression, as she spoke again. “You must be wondering who I am and why on Earth I’m here… my name is Nusaybah…”

”It’s okay,” I said, wanting to explain that we were used to it. But she was already explaining.

“My friend Khawlah… you know… she sells all the amazing garden stuff a few roads away. She says that my brother once had some rose plants delivered to your address. I figured that maybe he may know you guys… Or you may know him?”

And I was a little stunned as I began to process it, because without even knowing, someone had obviously been adding to my rose garden.

“I’m sorry,” I said shaking my head, still a bit confused. “Who is your brother?”

She immediately slapped her palm in her forehead comically, looking ridiculously humoured by her own demeanour. I didn’t realise that just like our doorway was darkened with her brother a few months back, after the doom that came with that… now, with her eccentrically bubbly approach, it was to be most certainly brightened by this very boisterous character…

“I’m sorry,” she blubbered apologetically, her mouth opening comically and her eyes still wide. “Silly me! His name is Zubair. Tall, dark and handsome, you know?! My father is being stubborn, and refuses to even check on him or track him down. I’m only down for one week more and I had to literally do an investigation to find this address. This is my absolute last resort. Please, please, tell me… Do you have any idea where he is?”

---

Sunnah of Forgiveness:

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

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

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

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

Aaameen.

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

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The Greatest Gift

Bismihi Ta’ala

Jameela

Part 45

And all of a sudden, it was June, and as the morning sun broke over the tips of the mountain edges, the sunshine appeared like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.

It’s silhouette boasted its sublime beauty as I cast my gaze over it, I couldn’t help but sniff the the scent of roses in the air and hold out a hope that it was surely a promising sign. And as nature showed off it’s best winter bits, I wanted to sink myself into the realm of abandonment that it promised, but it was just that, with Faadils arrival that morning… I was starting to doubt my own optimism.

And as I hastily made my way to the kitchen window, sneaking past Nani and Ma, who, along with one of my aunties, seemed to be very absorbed in their meal preparation, each allocated a task that looked particularly tedious, I kind of hoped that they wouldn’t notice me there.

I had strategically positioned myself in the the corner of the kitchen that that had the most extensive view of the yard, purely because it was the only perfect  spot for me to spy on my sister and her boss, just to ascertain if things were really as dandy as she had pretended they were.

And with the backdrop of Quránic recital and slight chatter in the background, my sole intent at that point was to locate them and attempt to figure out his intention too.

And as I watched the from afar, clapping my eyes on  Mohsina, in her black cloak and scarf, talking somewhat civilly to her boss, a fear had gripped me as I realised that this wasn’t just a normal conversation.

I mean, why would he come all the way here just to talk about some audit? Besides….The look on his face, when he said he wanted to meet with Mohsina… there was something that I couldn’t mistake. It was obvious that he had feelings for my sister… and the worst part was, I think that my sister wasn’t completely unaware.

And as I processed and sighed, as I watched them in the distance, almost as if they were talking about something intimate, I literally wanted to run out and scream at my sister, like a policewoman, to tell her to keep her hands above her head and just take a step back. But of course I couldn’t. After all, she wasn’t a baby. I was supposed to be the smaller sister, who needed the taking care of.

And as if it was a final straw, I just sucked in my breath as I saw him pulling something out from inside his coat, and then, as they both stepped out of my view, I was literally at my wits end.

Oh gosh, no, he musnt. He must not spoil this. he must not try to bribe or threaten her with materialistic things, he must not, he cann-

“Jameela!”

I jumped as I heard Nani’s voice right next to me, widening my eyes as I realised that she had caught me red-handed, my eyes fixed outside like an obsessed crazy woman.

“Who you looking at like that?” She asked, her eyes narrowing over her spectacles as she looked at me accusingly.

“Nothing Nani,” I said, swallowing nervously.

Oh goodness. If she had to see Mohsina and Faadil, Nani would probably lose her mind. I could not imagine all the things she would say if she had to know the very obvious truth. How could my sister ever be so stupid?

And of course, I had to think of something really fast because Nani was still looking at me suspiciously and trying to figure out exactly what I had been up to. She knew that something was up but from where she stood, she couldn’t see them. All she could see was the gorgeous morning sun that had settled so easily over the veld that was displayed before us, and it was a breathtaking sight.

What Nani didn’t know that my breath was kind of punched out of me for completely different reasons.

She hovered for a minute, before looking at me – and then suddenly, tapped my arm almost aggressively.

“Ouch,” I said, rubbing my arm.

Mohsina and Faadil were no longer in view and although I wondered exactly where they had gone to, I was quite grateful that it meant that Nani wouldn’t spot them, but she still wasn’t looking happy.

She was shaking her head at me disappointingly.

“You looking at that boy isn’t it?” She said accusingly. “That fella’ your father got for the shop. I saw him here earlier.”

Oh gosh. Nani. Only she would call him a ‘fella’.

“Erm…” I started, not really sure if I should really allow her think that I was being like one beh-sharam who couldn’t control her gaze and was checking out boys so candidly.

But Nani wasn’t hearing any of it. She was already on her own roll, and Ma and my Aunty’s ears had also perked up.

“Don’t you go getting any ideas!” She continued, giving me a death glare, with her eyes widened. “Jameeela, you are a good girl, you don’t go doing all funny things like your sister. We’ll find you one nice boy from in the family and get you married there. You must remember that your Nana’s father came here in 1915 as a trader. Not as sugar cane worker. We can’t get all mixed up with lower class people.”

I widened my eyes, a little shocked at this onslaught. Haai, I didn’t even know about all these things. Did Nani even know that we lived in the 21st century?

“Mummy,” my mother said, clearing her throat, and obviously feeling a need to step in. “You know we don’t worry about all these things. As long as he is a namaazi (prays regularly) and comes from a good family, we will accept whatever Jameela chooses.”

“No such thing,” Nani insisted, looking appalled, and raising her rolling pin in warning. “If he’s not aapra wala (our people), how he will provide for her? How will they get along?”

She shrugged her shoulders and then turned to the counter, hastily pulling out a container from the cupboard to add more flour to the dough she had just made.

I glanced at my mother, noticing her silence for a few seconds, as she probably gathered what next to say.

I didn’t quite understand. Growing up, my parents never made much mention about such things like sugar cane workers and different castes. All I knew was that we were Muslim and we had to strive to be the best Muslims we can be. Ma often told us that we could never judge anyone, no matter what they were, what they looked like or where they came from. I also understood that everyone had their differences but if there is love and understanding between families then anything can be easily conquered.

“Mummy, don’t teach her all these funny ways,” Ma was saying reproachfully, as she glanced at me. “She mustn’t worry about material things so much. Nowadays girls have too many lists and criteria that need to be ticked off, that every boy they see is not good enough. If they can’t afford her facial products, he’s not good enough. If they don’t have money in the family, he’s not good enough. It’s not Islamic. Nowadays, we spoil the girls too much and then when the husbands can’t maintain them, they come back home and we cry.”

Now Ma was generalising and putting me down unnecessarily. We weren’t all like that.

I wasn’t quite sure about that. I wasn’t really worried about if the guy could afford me. But I did know that Mohsina had worried about those things at one stage. Money was important. Family was important. Complexion was important.

I just didn’t agree. As far as I was concerned, I just want someone with a mild temper, good manners and who had Deen. I just wished Nani could understand that.

“You saw what happened with Mohsina,” Mummy was saying as Nani looked indignant. “If her situation didn’t change, only Allah knows what kind of home she would have got…”

Ma was right about that. Imagine if, according to by suspicions, Faadil was the next son-in-law. I wasn’t even sure where he fitted in, with regard to all of that traditional hogwash… but I wasn’t exactly sure that he would make the greatest husband. Financially, I knew he might have made up for it though. But at the end of the day, money doesn’t really buy you happiness, does it?

And now that they had moved on to talk about my Bari Foi’s niece in law who had gotten married into a ‘poor’ family and was actually really happy, I decided to make my way out the kitchen since the point of money not buying happiness was proven, and because Mohsina and her boss’s presence was becoming a major concern for me right then.

I only hoped that she wasn’t getting herself deeper and deeper into more sins….

And as I made my way down to the hallway passage, peeping around the corner to see if she was maybe on the patio, it was at that moment that the door opened and my sister walked in, barely even looking up to see if anyone was around.

Her red-rimmed eyes were a dead giveaway, and as she trudged up the stairs, I followed her into the room where Zaid was still napping, careful not to make too much of noise and wake him. I could tell that that was probably the last thing Mohsina needed right then.

She had already delved into her bag-packing, and as much as I didn’t want to to pry, and she had told me to mind my own business, I knew that this was something that I couldn’t just shove under the rug.

”Mos,” I said softly,  sitting on the rug near the bed and grabbing a few vests of Zaid’s to fold and pack. “Is everything okay at work?”

Mohsina glanced at me, and wiped a stray tear from the corner of her eye as she nodded.

“It’s okay,” she said softly, and looked away again.

I had to ask her. There was no two ways about it. I had to.

”Mos, does Hamzah know about him?” I said, my heart beating incessantly as panic filled my gut. Did she know how dangerous this could be? How much of pain and hurt she could cause if she didn’t handle this correctly?

She shook her head and looked at me, tears filling her eyes once again, as she looked away. She was clearly overwhelmed with emotion. What had happened outside was probably more than she bargained for.

And there was no denying that the situation at hand now was completely terrible.

”Ah, Mos,” was all I could say, as she hopelessly covered her face with her hands, looking as if she was completely inconsolable. To tell the truth, so was I. I had no idea what to tell her.

But because my nature was to be a dreamer and full of hope, I knew that I had to be positive and give her some too…

“It’s going to be okay,” was all could say soothingly, getting up to place my arms around her shoulders comfortingly, but if didn’t quite do the trick.

Within her, was already a torrent of emotion that seemed to overcome her as she clutched me and sobbed her heart out for a good few minutes. And as she did so, I could feel the crushing of self-desire, the breaking of her inner-most despair, and the sheer desperation that she clung onto me with. It was like she was searching for something that she hadn’t quite realised that she had lost…. trying to piece all those broken pieces together… but they didn’t quite fit…

And even though it took her a few minutes, eventually, as the tears ceased and her body eventually calmed, as I held onto her tightly, with it, she had released all of the hurt and grievances that were holding her back.

”I just feel so terrible,” she said, pulling back slightly as she looked at me. “I always thought that I loved Faadil. That he was everything I wanted.”

What she had just uttered was way more than I knew, a revelation of something undercover that had transpired, but I held my tongue back from calling her out right then.

“What do you mean?” I asked carefully, feeling a bit worried about her response. “He knows you are marrying Hamzah?”

It was the furtherest I’d ever come to asking her the truth about her boss and the look in her eyes was a dead giveaway.

“He literally begged me not to,” she confessed as she nodded, pulling at a thread on the duvet cover, not meeting my eye. “It was everything I had ever wanted. Most insta-worthy kind of scene. The backdrop, the smooth words, the revealing of the most stunning one carat diamond ring…”

I sucked in my breath as she trailed off, instantly feeling panicked. A one carat engagement ring? She still didn’t meet my eye and my heart contracted painfully. What this world does to us was something I sometimes couldn’t make sense of…

“He promised me the world,” she continued weakly, as she confirmed my suspicions. “Said that Zaid would stay with us. He could employ two nannies- for the day and night, and a helper too, for housework. He said he was looking into it and we could even accommodate him at Hammond’s, by making some adjustments to my schedule and a small nursery with a qualified assistant. He wants to make it more child-friendly. He’s prepared to do whatever it takes.”

”Oh gosh, Mos,” I said, my heart beating crazily as she said it.

She sounded like she was already bought. A night nanny?

My word, that was a luxury. I knew how little sleep Mohsina was getting these days.

And my heart sunk because I already knew that she was going to fall for it, hook, line and sinker. All of these things were what Mohsina  always wanted in a marriage. The stability. The money. The financial security.

After all, Hamzah was only a CA. Fine, he wasn’t exactly incapable of providing, but he was still establishing himself. How could that compare to the associate Director Faadil, who manages a mega-corporation and had millions on his payroll every year? He could probably even hire a helicopter to transport them wherever she wanted. He could give Mohsina the life that she always dreamt of, and she wouldn’t even have to sacrifice Zaid.

Why would she not jump at this opportunity?

“Jameela, he even said I didn’t have to work, if I wanted to be a stay-at-home mother,” she continued quietly, glancing at Zaid who was shifting slightly in his sleep. “It’s not only about Hammond’s. He was sorry he didn’t tell me all this before but when he heard that I was getting married, it made him realise how much I meant to him and he just can’t let me make this mistake…”

I narrowed my eyes, as anger rose in my chest.

I had no words for this… treachery. Whether something went on before this or not… All this time, throughout losing Layyanah and coping with the emotions that had brought, Faadil was nowhere in the picture.

He took her for granted because he thought she would be around, no matter what. When Zaid came into the picture, it probably suited him better, because he assumed that she’d be focused on him and not really on the market anymore. Suddenly… When he heard that Hamzah was prepared to marry her… everything changes?

Why was she so gullible?

I can’t understand. I wanted to cry.

“So you going to believe him?!” I almost cried.

My heart was beating crazily as I said it. My sister was way in over her head.

She looked at me, and tears filled her eyes again.

“It’s everything I ever wanted,” she cried, tears falling freely as she continued. “I would have died for this kind of commitment from him, Jameela. But Jamz… You don’t understand, Jameela. That kind of life he’s offering me.. where I could have anything I wanted at the click of a finger…”

My heart lifted slightly as I waited for her to finish.

”That life means nothing to me anymore,” she finished, and my heart soared as she said the words.

It was inexplicable right then. The relief I felt, was like the warmth of the  sunshine on my face early this morning. The brightness that it brought was not just light alone, but new life, and hope, and soothing to the heart… much needed relief from the torrents of rain that seemed to be the drenching us for weeks on end. Breathing came easily again, and as I filled my lungs with new air, once again, I felt alive and eternally grateful for this great bounty.

Mohsina sniffed and dabbed her eyes.

“I don’t want to go back there,” she whispered, meeting my eye.. “Back to that place where Allah was only a second option for me. Back to that place where I didn’t trust Allah enough to let Him come through for me. And now that He’s come through for me, and He brought amazing things through for me again, am I just going to desert Him and forget everything He granted me in His mercy? Does He not say that when you take one step toward him, He will run to you, so am I going to just turn my back on Him once again?”

Her eyes were brimming with tears as she looked at me, almost as if I was capable of giving her those answers. Only she held the pen to her story. Only she could determine how this was going to end…

“And I know I was wrong, Jamz,” she confessed, as she swallowed back more emotion. “I was wrong with Faadil and I was wrong with Hamzah. I know that before this, I made Allah Ta’ala wait, and everyone else took precedence. The thing is, I realised that you can love someone until you are blue in the face, but you can’t force them to meet you on the bridge. Even those with the most love for you can still leave. Whether it’s a friend or family or a beloved…. whether it was Maahira, my family, Hamzah or even Faadil who was so busy while I went through my own turmoil after losing Layy… everyone takes a step away from you at some point. But not Allah. But not Allah, Jameela…”

She paused, swallowed and looked at me. She was so right.

Not Allah. He stays where He is, waiting for us to come back, even when we’ve forsaken him.

And it was obvious that it hurt her. That’s how it was with Haraam relationships. She had forgot Allah and it pained her and it broke her and sometimes you are reduced to a point when you are not even sure if you could ever be repaired…

“I’m so proud of you, Mos,” I whispered, not able to speak any louder due to the emotion that weighed me down.

This wasn’t easy for her. I could see that. But this wasn’t only about her. There was a greater picture, a bigger story, and a more promising future that she had to make for herself.

“Don’t be,” Mohsina said remorsefully, shaking her head. “I ignored my Creator. I put everyone else first, and I made Him wait. I was sooo terrible. And I know that it may take a while to get to a comfortable place with Hamzah. Old dirt may pop up. The past may haunt us. It may not be easy from day one, but I know that Allah will heal every pain and replace it with something better. And that’s why I know that this … what Allah has allowed and inspired, it’s only through Him. If He has done so much for me, even if this is not perfect, even if it’s not that amazing kind of feeling and the perfect situation… I know that I have reached out for Allah and He is more beautiful than any sin…and all I want now, even if this doesn’t go perfectly, even if Hamzah hears about this and wants to call it off, even if there’s no-one else here for me… even if I have nothing else…. all I want, Jamz, is for Allah to forever hold my hand…. and that will be the Greatest Gift…”

Her voice broke at that point and I understood exactly what she said, as she pulled herself together, trying to stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks as she let loose every emotion that had been consuming her. She had got it spot on, and I couldn’t even believe that she had reached this place where Allah came before everything else. The most beautiful part was that she had no idea about this spectacular sacrifice that she had just made and that had so completely inspired me too…

“Gosh,” she moaned, glancing at herself in the mirror and looking horrified. “I’m going to look like a train-wreck for my Nikah. I’m not sure if Hamzah will even recognise me…”

I smiled as I watched her carefully dab her face with some toner, and apply a little bit of concealer to cover up her puffy eyes.

I didn’t know what else to say. Honestly, my voice was just kind of stuck in my throat because I could not possible even convey the joy that I felt right then.

Soon Zaid would be awake and her time would run out, so I hastily helped her with her packing, silently thanking Allah for making Nani give out that huge sum of Sadaqah that saved us from a very unfortunate plight.

I still could barely believe what had happened, but I knew that she’d made a mistake. I knew that she regretted it. But as I glimpsed her smile that day, I also knew that despite whatever had happened in the past, very clearly, her heart was very much focused on her future.

As the time for the Nikah approached, and she emerged from her room, I noticed that my pretty sisters cheeks were naturally flushed, as a new bride should be, but it wasn’t even that that was making her glow the way she was.

And I didn’t know much about love or soulmates, or any of that stuff, but as I looked at her, knowing that this though this was something she had prayed for fervently,  I could feel that her entire purpose and aim here was for Allah’s pleasure. She had, undoubtedly, sacrificed so much to get here, and I knew that, most definitely, the sacrifice had not gone unnoticed.

And as she focused on her new chapter, the part where she left it to Allah, and surrendered herself in a must sublime way, I could feel my own heart soaring with joy. Zaid was in a particularly good mood after his nap but what her feelings were at the time when she had given her answer to my father and and they had headed off to masjid, I could not imagine. All I knew was that this was, by far, one of the most crucial moments of her life and she would probably never forget it. As the time of the Nikah drew nearer, and the excitement in the house mounted, I could not have imagined a more beautiful transition of woman to wife, than my sister had endured that day.

It was just pure exhilaration as I shifted my gaze to my sister, and I forced myself to hold back. My eyes were filling with tears and the lump in my throat seemed to expand.

The streaming of the live Nikah was transmitted through the link, and the break in transmission got us slightly on edge, but as Mohsina’s phone beeped next to us and she showed me the screen approximately three minutes later, I couldn’t help but chuckle as I saw the simple two sentence congratulatory iMessage.

Hamzah:

Deals all done, wifey. Too late to run. 

I shook my head, knowing that only Hamzah would be daring enough to send a message like that at this moment as she smiled almost in contempt and tapped a reply. No doubt, Mohsina probably had a witty comeback.
She placed her phoned down, knowing that congratulations were in order from everyone else too, and as I took pleasure in her happiness, it was as if this morning’s emotional escapade had never happened.

Gazing at her, her beauty even more apparent on account of her sublime joy, there she was, this new woman, all set for this new journey, with only Allah in mind, as she knocked down all those obstacles that had ever stood in her way.

And yes, it was truly such a momentous occasion, and as I watched her, her recently slender figure draped in a simple but beautiful abaya that she had purchased for the Nikah, with the sun gleaming through the window and highlighting her subtly made up face, an overwhelming feeling of nostalgia had caught me off guard. She had, most certainly, grown into a woman who was so much more worthy of all those mistakes she had made, and I knew that throughout every encounter and trial and setback, she always emerged stronger and more beautiful than she had been before.  Every test purified her and every setback had served to bring her back to her purpose, and I knew that this step was going to be the greatest one yet…

And as I slunk back with Zaid in my arms, waiting for my turn to offer her a proper greeting and goodbye, as Nani gave her Du’aa (prayer) of happiness and many, many pious offspring which made me cringe, I could hear Ma and one of our cousins wishing her with the beautiful words that our Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) had taught us to pray for couple:

Barakallahu lakuma wa baraka alaikuma wa jama’a baynakuma fii khair.
May Allah bless your union, and shower His blessings upon you, and unite you in goodness.

And as I glimpsed her face, all I wanted to do was reach out for her and hold her close to me, not only because she had been through such an enormous change of heart, but also because she was, undoubtedly, doing the most amazing and selfless thing. And I couldn’t believe it, because what I could see before me was the unfolding of the most beautiful kind of love story. It was the most inspiring kind of reformation that I ever had the privilege of witnessing.

And that’s when I realised, that this journey that Mohsina was taking was not about Faadil and breaking free. It wasn’t about Nani or my parents expectations. It wasn’t even about Hamzah or Zaid any more. And that was what got me, because everyone who was so in awe of this amazing match and union, will make you believe that this is the happily ever after, where the shoe fit Cinderella or the frog turned back into a Prince. People will make you believe that this is the once upon a time and then end of the rainbow that we’ve all been searching for, the initiation of them both riding into the sunset to have their very own happy ending.

But it wasn’t.

And when she gave me a small smile, almost as if she herself couldn’t believe that this day had actually come and my sister was no longer just the  accomplished and Instagram-obsessed, self-motivated, career-driven chartered accountant that she had once been, I knew it for sure. In her place, instead, there was a calmer, self-contented girl on a journey of reclaiming her heart, who relied on Allah and Him alone, and I couldn’t quite believe this amazing change in her had actually taken place.

And as I soaked it all in, if there’s one thing I learnt, it’s that when you really want something, always remember that you hold the pen to your story. You can close the pages of chapters and start a brand new one whenever you need. You can walk away from those things that may ruin you or drain your spirit. Learn to embrace that middle road, the middle chapters, after which you are not sure what comes, because this too… are filled with magic and hope.
You can seek those people who you always wanted, and write them in, as you please.  You, and only you, hold the pen to your own beautiful story.

Live a beautiful love. Dream a beautiful dream. Guide your soul, through His guidance.

One day, even if it doesn’t come together right then, it eventually was will see that all that is with Allah, is never lost. In fact the Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam)
has said: “You will never give up a thing for the sake of Allah (swt), but that Allah will replace it for you with something that is better for you than it.” (Ahmad)

Sometimes Allah takes in order to give. His giving is not always in the form we think we want. He knows best, what is best. But still somehow, we will give your whole life, still, to reaching this ‘place’. You do this because in the fairy tale, that’s where the story ends. It ends at the finding, the joining, the wedding. It is found at the oneness of two souls.

What they don’t tell us is that that we will never finally be complete, because we haven’t yet found that source of completion. The final piece that joins it all together. The deal-sealer. The beginning of the path back to Him. That the ‘something better’ or the ‘best’ is the greatest gift: nearness to Him.

Sometimes the greatest gift lies beyond the taking and the returning…  sometimes the greatest gifts, is that something eternal, that never tires, never leaves and never breaks….

And that is the only Greatest Gift that is forever worth waiting for.

---

Authors note: Dear readers, just a quick one to say that this was an extra long post so the next one (or two?) before the break will be a bit shorter, InshaAllah…

Much Love,

A

xx

Mission Sunnah Revival

In line with love for Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Salaam), a narration goes like this:

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…

The Sunnah of Giving up arguing and having good manners…

Whilst we grapple to keep that connection alive out of Ramadhaan, and approach the month of Dhul Hajjiah, let try and increase our Ibaadat.

Abu Umamah Al-Bahili Ra reported Nabi (ﷺ) said,

“I guarantee a house in Jannah for one who gives up arguing, even if he is in the right;

and I guarantee a home in the middle of Jannah for one who abandons lying even for the sake of fun;

and I guarantee a house in the highest part of Jannah for one who has good manners/Akhlaaq.

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aan

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah ­

No Secrets

Bismihi Ta’ala

Saaliha

It’s strange how life works, isn’t it?

One day you’re the happiest person in the world, and the next, it feels like the worries of the entire world have settled on your tiny shoulders.

And as we drove back into it, the city air had been doing its thing with me, unsettling me and making me feel all sorts of uneasy, as I entered our old residence. As much as I tried to shove it away, the prickly feeling in my tummy didn’t yet ease.

It had been a few moments of relief, but the calming effects of the view of the contrasting bougainvillea bushes against the lush greenery of the small town we had just visited had already been lost, as we found ourselves entering the suburbs once again.

For a minute there, I found myself immersed in the vision of the intermittent splash of stunning jacaranda trees visible from the highway, abadoning myself to the feeling of winter in the city too.

Breathing in, letting the relatively denser air fill my lungs, the point was to dispel the less favourable emotions that were coming at me once again. It was owed to the fact that it had been, in my opinion, another fruitless month.

Along with the pulling of my legs and aching tummy as I felt the pain subside momentarily, it was no secret that there was not even a possibility of a positive pregnancy test this month.

And as I sighed and slid open my phone, playing the voice note from my sister, my mood worsened substantially.

“Let me know as soon as you guys are in Johannesburg,” Fareeha said bossily. “We’ll come see you.”

“We’ll come to you,” I typed to her quickly, before she made any plans to visit.

This time, I knew that Rabia was here with us and I didn’t want to risk any clashes. Knowing my sister, as soon as she clapped eyes on her, she would probably dive right into it. Perhaps she would even do a live introduction right there, and risk my entire two month mission of keeping them away from each other being sabotaged.

But I hadn’t yet let Fareeha know that I was in town yet and I had good reasoning for it. Never mind I was being slightly obsessive and unreasonable. I wasn’t going to budge because I knew that if I gave her even a little bit of an advantage, Fareeha was going to completely steal the show with her new and sole ambition in life.

I pulled the bunch of lilies I had bought out the boot, almost with a vengeance as I made my way through the interleading garage door after my mother-in-law, barely even reaching the glass table at the front before the wailing of a baby caught me completely off-guard.

And for a minute, I thought it was my warped mind playing tricks on me.

Or perhaps it was a cat. But there was no cat here. And if it wasn’t a cat… well… That noise could only mean one thing.

My heart lifted as I heard it, and as if the sombreness was immediately eliminated, it was as if my entire existence had suddenly found its purpose once again.

All I knew knew was that as my mother-in-law headed over to where Hamzah was sitting on the couch, it was like some magnetic force that was dragging me over as well.

The precious lilies were abandoned on the glass dining table, and I found myself almost tripping over a baby bag, racing before my mother-in-law to scoop the baby in question up, without even a second thought of who, how and why…

And okay, in retrospect, I knew it was just a little bit of a psychotic reflex but I really couldn’t help it. My heart was already endowed with love for any little human that I saw.

”Oh my, Masha Allah!” My mother-in-law said, glancing at him and smiling widely as I placed him onto my shoulder. “Hamzah, why didn’t you tell us Liyaket was leaving his baby?! We would have left our shopping for tomorrow! I can’t believe you!”

Neither could I.

”Mummy,” he said easily. “Can’t you see how capable I am? Just two hours with me and he’s literally on cloud number nine.”

The baby was already silent and sucking on his fingers.

”Yes, I can see that, but we would have loved to help,” she said easily. “You don’t have to act like superman.”

Or be so selfish, I wanted to add, but I didn’t. After all, it wasn’t quite his fault that I was baby-obsessed.

“Does he need a nappy change?” I asked, glancing at my brother-in-law while I felt the fullness of his diaper.

I could see Hamzah rummaging around in the nappy bag for something, and finally emerging with a nappy and two different wet wipe pouches.

One was some brand hygiene wipes and the other was Huggies sensitive baby wipes. I could see that he had no idea what the difference was so I grabbed the appropriate one, dug for the changing pad in the bag and made my way to the next room to lay the cutie out on the top of the bed and change him.

I would have never guessed that changing a wet diaper would have made me so ecstatic, but it did. It had been so many years since I had done this but it felt like it was just the other day. The years flew by so very fast…

“So how was shopping?” I could hear my brother-in-law asking my mother-in-law in the next room. “What did you buy for me?”

It had been a while since I had met such a friendly baby, and his chuckles resounded through the room as I played a silly little game with his little toes, wiping him carefully and then sealing him up again, before re-buttoning his vest and romper. The smile he gave as he looked up at me felt like the sun had risen in the horizon of my heart.

Warmth oozed within me as I held him close, the feeling his heartbeat next to mine as his fingers gripped around my thumb, almost as if, in their rhythm, the two of us shared a little secret that no one else knew.

I wasn’t sure if anyone else could be as in love with babies as I was right then.

”We brought some food,” my mother-in-law was replying, and I could hear her go silent for a while as she unpacked the packets I had rudely left on the table.

Of course, I knew she wouldn’t mind. It was no secret to her that I would abandon anything for even a few moments with a little human being.

Also, there was inarguably another reason for her silence. Although it had been a highly sensitive topic before, things had kind of simmered down now… but I could tell that she was probably debating whether to tell him that we stopped over at Mohsina’s family’s new coffee shop. We weren’t quite sure how he would take to it.

And though it had been on the trending list for a few months, and I had heard about it a few times because my sister had been there at least half a dozen times and could not stop swooning about it… I figured that since we might be passing through the area, it may be worth a try.

And it just so happened that we were literally starving because we couldn’t find many Halaal places around where the factory shop we went to was, and this was slap-bang, in the middle of our detour. Not only was it conveniently located, but it was also a really aesthetically pleasing location that soothed my heart significantly, even if it was for a little while.

And as we drove up the gravel road leading to the familiar property, I had stepped off the car and breathed in the fresh air, taking in the stunning little rose garden in the front as I walked up the two steps that led to the entrance of the shop. Not only was I already in love with the scenery here, but being there felt almost like being completely out of the city, as I felt myself shedding all the worries that had consumed me earlier on, letting myself get absorbed in the beauty of the beautiful bougainvillea bushes in the distance.

I gazed intently at the carefree collusion of creamy whites that turned almost pearl, pretty pinks that transformed to blood reds … and pinky-peaches that somehow morphed into burnt orange. The contrast against the streaky skies made me stop in my tracks for a minute, as I digested the colours that were very much like the horizon that was spread before us, with its silky smooth skybursts of reds and yellows that found its way into the calmness of the latter afternoon.

When nature painted, with Allah as the artist, truly, no filter was needed…

“You think she will be here?” My mother-in-law had asked quietly as we entered, scanning the room as if she expected Mohsina to pop out from the woodwork.

I knew that she was secretly hoping she would see her but I did think that it was highly unlikely. Even though it was a weekend, with qualified professionals, I knew that there wasn’t always weekend time.

We walked in, immediately noticing that the place was simple and very cottage-inspired. There was nothing fancy about its decor or furniture, but it felt so amazingly homely and comfortable.

And as I took it in, I could see that it’s inspiration was a picture frame of a pretty meadow, and I couldn’t help but glance at if a few times, trying to figure out who had painted it, wondering if it was some coincidence that it looked so strikingly familiar to the farm back home …

A younger boy who stood behind the counter, upon seeing us, quickly went to the back, and in his place out came a girl who at first glance could have been Mohsina, but I already knew wasn’t.

It was her younger sister, and even though I had met her once before, her name had slipped my mind completely.

“Assalamualaikum,” she said kindly, her eyes meeting mine as she flashed one of the rarest smiles I’d seen in months. It was just so sincere and welcoming that it  took me aback.

She had obviously not recognised us, I said to myself. If she did, she would have snubbed us completely. After all, Hamzah was the one who called off the Nikah.

The girls head was covered with a floral hijab that was tied tightly and her striking features were slightly sun kissed, as if she probably spent her glorious days out in the garden most times. The mesmerising rose garden in the front had to be the result of someone’s toil…

“How are you?”

My mother-in-law, seeing no males in the vicinity, and generally unconcerned about any dynamics that may have existed, unlike me, lifted her niqab and gave her a genuine smile.

And the thing was, even if you are in niqab, to reveal your identity was always the right thing to do, by whatever means. Personally, I was just a little worried about how she may take us being here after everything that had happened.

”Wa alaykum Salaam,” Mummy said, looking slightly hesitant as the girls expression changed. “I’m not sure if you remember us, Jameela?”

Ah yes. Jameela. That’s what her name was.

I could tell that she did, but she looked down shyly, almost self-consciously and nodded. So far, so good. I mean, she didn’t chase us out, so that was great.

Instead, she passed us a simple menu and then said:

”I’ll be with you in a minute. My mother would love to see you.”

And with that, I was kind of taken aback. For me, the situation was a little awkward but it seemed as if they were surprisingly elated at our being here, and it took a while for me to wrap my head around it because I really didn’t expect it. What I did expect was an acknowledgement and maybe mere politeness, but I really didn’t think it would go further than that.

And that’s when I realised that maybe there was some hope in this world where everything else seemed to be a dead loss.

And that wasn’t the end of it. And as her mother emerged and a surprisingly pleasant reunion took place, Jameela recommended to us the popular specials they had, served us the best coffee I ever tasted, and packed us off with four extra sandwiches to take home.

Homemade and absolutely delicious, might I add.

And after feeling all satisfied and at peace in my new surroundings, as I soaked up the sun in the outdoor area where the view was nothing short of spectacular, when I went up to the counter, Jameela merely shook her head at me.

“My parents say I can’t charge you ladies,” she said with a sweet smile. “Next time, I promise. Then I know you’ll will come back.”

”That’s not right, Jameela,” I insisted, taking out my purse nonetheless.

I never know what to do in situations like this. And this was awkward. The whole situation was.

“We ordered so much. Let me pay for something at least.”

She shook her head again.

“My Papa will lock me up in the barn if I don’t listen,” she half-whispered, but I could tell she was joking. “You came to our home and after everything that happened… well, it’s the least we could do. It’s Hadiyyah.”

When she put it that way I couldn’t refuse. And they were kind of blowing me away, with all this niceness, even when we barely deserved it.

There was nothing more I could do or say, except thank her appreciately, as I looked around me, taking the place in.

Now that I was here again, I understood again that Mohsina had come from a simple home,  and that they had probably just made ends meet every month, without that much ‘extra’. It made me think about life so differently… because when I thought of it, this is what got me, all the time, and what Allah Ta’ala revealed about those who prefer others above themselves:

“They prefer others above themselves, even though poverty become their lot (Holy Qurān, Surah Baqarah.)”

I just couldn’t get it, and although I had a deep desire to be, I wasn’t like that.

How is it that people that have so much, find it so hard to part with that which they own… yet people who don’t, take in so much in their stride? Was it because they have little and are content with it… so giving even of that little doesn’t make a difference? Or was it because they just possessed an immensely amazing gift that allows them to open their heart so unreservedly, that no matter what they lose in the pursuit of winning over someone’s heart, barely makes a difference…

What I didn’t yet realize is that the money earned by a person, if it is not blessed, will never be enough. The more one earns, the more are his needs. Its like continuing to eat without becoming satisfied.

And as I exited, my heart engulfed all sorts of strange emotions, my eyes fell on a selection of potted flowers for sale on a little stand there, and next to it were a few buckets of lilies that took my breath away. So instead, I looked through the selection of pretty lilies in a bucket in the bucket, who Jameela said she was selling for someone else, and bought two unusually coloured bunches.

“Such a lovely girl,” my mother-in-law was murmuring as we made our way out. “Next time we need to bring something for them. If I had another son I would have already sent a proposal for her.”

She chuckled light-heartedly but there was a hint of sadness in her voice, probably for the would have been daughter-in-law she had missed out on all those months back.

I kept silent, thinking what everyone would think in situations like this. Whatever happened. However Hamzah may have messed it up. Whatever Mohsina might have done.

Allah knows best.

“But it is what it is,” she said, almost to herself as we got in the car. “No use thinking about it. And three is a good number, though, right? Lucky my second pregnancy had turned out to be twins.”

Three is an amazing number. Although I’d be happy with two.

Oh, but I’m happy with one too. Am I?
Of course, I’m grateful, but just one more….

I smiled and shook my head to myself, thinking about how my mother-in-law had once mentioned that she never thought she would have any more kids after Imraan. And then bam… along came two at once, almost ten years later.

And I never did ask her more about it. I always assumed that she had fallen pregnant with twins naturally and there were no treatment options at that time. But now as she said it, the desire the ask her was overwhelming.

“Was it a shock?” I said carefully, putting the car into reverse and glancing at her as we left.

”It could have been one, two or three,” she said with a smile, and left it at that.

”Ah,” I said, as if I wasn’t quite sure.

But of course I understood what that meant. It was the option that Imraan didn’t want to consider as yet, but the one I was trying hard for him to at least think about. IVF, under stipulated conditions, was allowed, but to get Imraan to accept it as a viable option was another task altogether.

I sighed as I picked baby Zaid up now, holding him close as I took in that unique newborn scent, and headed back to the sitting room.

I wasn’t sure if my mother-in-law had told him where we’d been but as I heard more voices in the vicinity, I realised that Zaids parents were already back.

With a slightly heavy heart, I dragged myself to the kitchen, seeing Liyaket’s wife perched on a chair there, looking as calm as ever, as I held her baby in my arms.

“Ah there he is,” she said, smiling as she saw her son. “I really hope he didn’t trouble you.”

And if she wasn’t so lovely I might have resented her for having the cutest baby in the world, but of course I couldn’t.

“Not at all,” I smiled, passing him over to her. He was so sweet-natured, as he literally drifted into lala land again with his dummy in his mouth. “You should have left him longer. We hardly had any time with him. Hamzah was keeping him all to himself.”

Layyanah smiled, shaking her head.

”To tell the truth, I didn’t think he would!” she laughed, genuinely humoured. “Liy and I thought he’d phone after an hour with multiple complaints about how difficult babies are, but when he didn’t, we got even more worried!”

She was giggling as she said it and I smiled.

I too, could barely believe that my otherwise spoilt brother-in-law who could not even make a cup of coffee by himself was actually so handy when it came to babies.

”I hope you guys did what you needed to do?” I asked politely, as I switched the kettle on. “Can I offer you tea or coffee?

“I’m fine with tea,” she said gratefully. “But only if you’re making for yourself. It’s been a pretty hectic morning. The queues at the bank were crazy and I had to urgently sort out a problem with my account. Liyaket keeps telling me not to stress but I can’t help it. I worry, and yet he’s the accountant. Financial security… For Zaid, more than me. He keeps saying that it’s all Duniyaa, but you know..”

She trailed off and I smiled, because I knew. The worry was real and although we were supposed to have Tawakkul, we were so weak. Besides, with our kids, does it ever stop?

”We all worry,” I said knowingly. “We are weak, even though Allah tells us over and over to hand it over to Him…”

And because I knew of Layyanah’s family, who I had recently come to find out was one of the wealthiest families in Johannesburg, it was no secret that I had already had it in my mind that she was pretty materialistic so it didn’t surprise me that she was talking about money.

Liyaket, on the other hand,  was a simple guy who had worked exceptionally hard while he was studying, even doing all-nighters to keep up with work and studies, because for them, nothing ever came easy. The two of them had completely contrasting backgrounds.

And although I had formed my assumptions, the next thing she said caught me completely off guard.

“I suppose at some point, we just have to hand it over, don’t we?” She said quietly. “When we look at the type of life the Sahaaba lived, how can we ever say we are of the same Ummah? Like for example.. the other day I was just reading about Hadhrat Faathima (RA), in a book I found in Liy’s mother bookshelf. How simple her life was, how she worked so hard and how her husband adored her because of it… where are we and where were they? Do you ever wonder?”

She shook her head shamefully while I looked at her in awe, barely believing that this was the same girl I had heard about, who was so spoilt that she had never even had to dish out her own food.

And now, as I tried to process how Allah’s plan works, I was listening to her tell me more about the simplicity of Deen..

This girl was making me review my own intentions in life. It was like I had been missing the point all along.

”Sometimes,” I said, feeling overwhelmed for a minute. “It’s amazing how they endured so much, huh?”

Perhaps it was all the hormonal emotions that were taking it’s toll, but her entire demeanour and beautiful outlook was having such an immense effect on me that I literally just wanted to crumple up and sob my heart out.

“Anyway,” she said, barely noticing, shifting around and moving baby Zaid onto her other arm as she finished feeding him and grabbed two more biscuits. I hastily went up to take him, eager for a little more time. “I’m not sure what time Liy is planning on leaving but I’m just going to carry on eating because this feeding makes us so feel like we’re starved, neh?”

I smiled. I remember how I used to eat about seventeen times a day when I was breastfeeding.

The kettle was already halfway boiled as we chatted easily about babies and their erratic feeding schedules, when I could hear Imraan calling me from the other room.

And since he had just probably arrived, I excused myself to see him, and see to Uthman as well. They were probably a little hungry, since Imraan had gone out to meet a client for the day and Uthman had gone for some additional school tutoring.

“Assalamualaikum,” I said with a smile, peeping out the kitchen door. “How are you? Can I send something for you to eat?”

”Sawls,” Imraan said causally. “I’m fine. Where’s your phone? Fareeha is trying to get hold of you.”

When was the last time I had used it? I had gotten so busy with the baby that I had even forgotten

Oh yes.

“It’s in the car,” I said, smacking my hand on my forehead. “Let me go and fetch it.”

”Don’t stress, love,” he said casually. “Maulana Aadil called to say that they were on the road, so I told them to come here.”

”What?!” I said, widening my eyes at him. “No!”

Imraan frowned.

“Why?” He asked innocently. “Don’t you want to see your sister before we go home? Is everything okay?”

He wouldn’t understand. He was also looking at me like I’d lost my marbles.

“It’s just,” I said slowly, carefully retracting. “I thought we would visit them for a change. I didn’t think you’d go and invite them over without telling me first. It’s so sudden. And I really just wanted to go there and chill while Fareeha did all the tea-making..”

I loved entertaining people, and Imraan knew it. I supposed that’s precisely what made him more suspicious.

”Listen,” Imraan said, his phone and the buzzer going off at the same time, and his voice softened as he said the next sentence, and moved to the corner of the lounge where no-one could see us. “You’re acting crazy and completely unlike yourself. Don’t get offended… but it’s not just now, it’s been for a few weeks now. Do you want to tell me what’s going on?”

I closed my eyes momentarily as Imraan spun around, pressed the button for the top gate, and then turned around again to face me.

”You rather go out and greet them,” I said meekly, as he looked at me and narrowed his eyes.

I could hear my mother-in-law and Layyanah chatting in the next room, feeling like I was missing out on precious moments with the baby.

“They can wait,” he said stubbornly. “You know you can tell me anything. I’m not going until you spill it.”

Breathe, Saaliha, I told myself. Just breathe

It was no big deal. Maybe the two of them wouldn’t clash at all. Perhaps Rabia would be out for a while longer, and Fareeha would be long gone before she even made an appearance.

”Saaliha?”

Imraan only called me by my full name when he was in a no-nonsense mood.

“I can’t,” I finally mumbled. “It’s a secret.”

How would I ever explain this craziness? 

That, I can never mention.

“We never keep secrets,” he said softly, sounding as if I’d knocked the wind out of him, with the words I’d just uttered.

Seconds felt like minutes, as I heard car doors slamming and Fareeha’s voice screaming at her kids as time was running out.

Imraan was inching closer to me, his expression even more disturbed than before.

I swallowed, looking at him, but determined not to breathe a word of my concerns out loud.

“Are you sure absolutely sure?” He said, looking resigned already, as he stepped back, his expression now one of undeniable hurt.

I nodded. I wasn’t thinking further than right then.

“Right,” he said abruptly, turning to leave, and for some reason, there was no other time I remembered that I’d felt more down in the dumps than I did right then.

It didn’t matter though. All I knew was that, come what may, this secret was one that I could never expose…

---

Sunnah of Giving and Receiving gifts. 

In an attempt to create love, especially if they may be rifts or some kind of problem… the Sunnah of giving gifts is always a perfect remedy ❤️

Rasullulah (Sallahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) said: “If anyone receives something from his Muslim brother, without asking for it, he should not reject it but he should accept it is his sustenance (rizq) which has been sent by Allah Taála.”

(Fadhaail e Sadaqah)

Du’aa for Rajab 

اَللّهُمَّ بَارِكْ لَنَا فِى رَجَبَ وَ 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.”

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

The Breaking Point

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 32

Jameela

The truth is, at some point, everyone’s lives have become desperately in need of a cure. I don’t think there has ever been a time or era where we’ve forgotten more the importance of human touch. Of kind and beautiful words. Of shaping the memories that bind us as one body, and build us into the kind of human beings that we really want to be.

And amidst the chaos and worldly pursuits… There comes a point in life where it all becomes too much. When we get too tired to fight anymore. When you have to tread the line between failure and quitting, and then decide which way to go.

Especially when someone you really love is involved, sometimes it’s hard to find hope where there really is none at all.

Every once in a while, when there is no more joy in the continuous pursuit of advice, when inspiration is on the low, there comes a point where you find yourself believing that there’s only so much of watering, pushing and coaxing you can do, before you call it a day and abort an already failing mission.

But as a gardener, I once learnt from the amazing ‘Rose Lady’, who I had recently learnt was named  Khawlah, that pruning away the dead, diseased and overlapping branches of plants is the best way to ignite some hope and to inspire more vibrant, productive growth. Sometimes you have to trim something, to cut something back… to bring it down almost completely… before it flourishes again.

It’s a common rule of gardening, that when I see leaves withering away, and the stems looking a bit drab, most of the time, cutting the plant right to the bottom is the most effective treatment.

And sometimes cutting back, in other senses too… pulling away is the only day to remedy an almost hopeless situation. Stagnant roots are revived, people become more engaged, and new ideas find fertile ground once again. Basically, attitudes that aren’t helping to improve our lives are being pruned away, to the betterment of all of us.

But you just needed to take that plunge, because sometimes, in spiting a plant of its branches, you can even risk its life.

And right then, as I stood in the hallway of my home, faced with a decision that may change our lives for the better or worse, depending on what I did… I felt like I was torn in two.

I’d always been a good judge of character, and I knew that there had to be a reason why this was just giving me a really bad feeling…

Go ahead and stand putting everyone at risk, by calling Mohsina out right here, with our house wide open for them to do anything they can… or stand my ground and tell them to back off.. If only I could gain the courage….

“Please,” I pleaded with the older of two, hoping it would appeal to his fatherly side. If he had one. I had to try and salvage the situation  where I could. “I’m not sure what this this is about and it’s not a good time right now. I can tell my sister come and meet you… She’s already got a lot on her plate and -”

“If you don’t call her, we can just go straight to your father and give the old guy a shake-up,” the older guy cut in, giving a small snicker as he said it. “The last time he got away with a heart attack, and your sister saved him. This time, I’m not too sure.”

My sister saved him? I didn’t understand. My heart was thudding even more in my chest, as I saw the lack of empathy in his eyes.

The younger guy, on the contrary, glanced at me, looking slightly uncomfortable as he watched my eyes fill with unexpected tears. Almost as if he was embarrassed.

“We’ll wait at the garage,” he said decisively, and it was almost an uncertain statement because as the older man looked at him menacingly, I figured who the boss here was.

“But how will we know that she will even show up?” the older man asked, looking agitated.

The younger guy shook his head.

“Like you’ll let this go anyway,” he said bluntly, turning away to go to the car, looking strangely unsettled by the whole situation.

What was even going on? 

All I knew was that one minute I was relaxing comfortably in my home, listening to Nani and Mohsina having it out as usual, and the next, these thug-life people come with sinister intentions and topple my entire mindframe, bringing in the most embarrassing waterworks.

And I know I wasn’t exactly in the most conducive situation, but I really couldn’t help it. The thing was, like any little girl, my father has always been my hero. To think that anyone remotely evil could ever be after him, was a completely foreign and uncomfortable notion. The brave, generous, loving kind of father that I always knew and loved was the one who I would go to any lengths to protect, no matter what the circumstance.

When it came to Papa, I recalled often how he would tell us about how his family never really had time or money for luxuries. Maybe getting through life when you had seven younger siblings’ mouths to feed wasn’t always easy.

And perhaps this was why, Papa’s nature, by default, was always to give. To bring every one of his siblings through school and an opportunity for tertiary education, was his responsibility because his father was very much absent throughout his life, hopping from one second wife to the next while his mother would fill samoosas for a tuppence.

And then my mother came into the picture, understanding where he was coming from, knowing the history, and she didn’t hold him back either.

”It’s his money,” she always said, with a careless wave of her hand. “He works hard. He must do what he wants to with it. He must help people.”

And so he did. To give and give and give, it didn’t even matter if he had nothing left to give. When it came to loving for others what he loved for himself, Papa took it in his stride. Even if he put himself into debt and problems in the process, Papa still continued to do what he loved to.

Amazingly, because of this quality, it turned out that Nani too, had a certain respect for Papa that was unmatched to anyone was else, because Papa was the one who had helped her son, her son-in-law and everyone else in the family who went through any financial difficulties… even when he himself was not in the most amazing of circumstances.

His very nature was oozing with generosity, and I had a very strong feeling that this was the reason that Allah had saved us from many downfalls over the years.

The Prophet Muhammad, Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam, said ‘Give the sadaqah without delay, for it stands in the way of calamity.’ (Tirmidhi)

A Sadaqah, of course, is always a means of cure and a means for avoiding a calamity.

And being all stressed out and emotional beyond consolation, I couldn’t help but be all panicked over my father finding out and risking his health again as I made my way in a frenzy toward the lounge. Calling Mohsina out now would only cause a scene and make Nani more suspicious. It would also put Papa in a bad light, thinking he was involved with all these thuggish people when there was no way I could imagine him to be.

There had to some mistake.

I prayed so hard at that moment, yearning for this all to go away. It was that desperate, aching from the heart, purposeful prayer that you made whet you wanted something really, really badly.

And I wasn’t sure exactly how it all happened, but before I knew it, Ma had intervened between the two of them and somehow convinced Nani to come with her to the nursery down the road, where they left from the other entrance. And then, as I approached Mohsina, panic once again, set in, as I had to recall what these people had just told me.

Ya Allah, my heart was screaming, as I wondered how he knew all this. Please make this turn out okay.

Explaining to Mohsina, it like she immediately knew exactly who the people were. Her expression was ridden with worry, but as always, Mohsina had the amazing ability to remain calm even in the fiercest of storms.

She sighed audibly, her brow furrowed now as she thought.

“Looks like we have no choice,” she murmured as she grabbed her bag and keys. “I’m going to meet them to explain to them that the car isn’t mine. And then take it back…”

“She sighed again as she half-limped over to the Porsche, opening the door to battle he way into the driver’s seat. Her leg was still pretty bashed up but there was no way that I was driving in this state of mind. How she was keeping it together, I wasn’t sure.

I slipped into the passengers seat while she started up the engine, all kinds of scary and unwanted thoughts about murderous thugs going through my head.

My heart was beating rapidly and it felt like the knot in my stomach had become some sort of bouncing soccer ball. We had just pulled up at the garage, and before I even knew what was going on, she was already back in the car.

And it felt like hours, but it was probably only a few minutes that they spoke, but it was very obvious that from her very strangled words of annoyance that they weren’t relenting. She had said that calling the police would just cause more problems for us. She had already phoned and explained to her boss that she needed his help and there had been a misunderstanding.

I wanted to just leave them and save ourselves… but Mohsina was courageous beyond her years.

”Who are they?” I asked, not sure if I really want to know. I could have been mistaken, but it seemed like she knew the one guy.

“Don’t worry,” she said, brushing me off. “I just have to sort this car out. Can’t believe this thing’s caused so much of grief…”

Oh yes, the Porsche had taken the tea that weekend. I was certain that she was never going to set foot in it again. Couldn’t say I was sorry about it either.

“Mohsina, please…” I started, feeling  really uneasy. I looked at her now while I gained a little more courage. “You have to tell me. What do they want from Papa? From you?”

Mohsina swallowed and glanced at me. She opened her mouth and closed it again, almost as if she was hesitant. And then she took a deep breath before she spoke again.

”They’re loan sharks,” she muttered, swallowing hard. “Bloody money-hungry idiots who are looking anywhere and everywhere to pay off a family debt. Can we just drop the topic?”

A family debt? That didn’t make sense. How did this even become a problem, and why hadn’t Mohsina mentioned it before? She knew much more than she was letting on, and one day, I knew I was going to get it out from her.

I just didn’t know that the way that I would eventually learn about it would come in a completely unprecedented form.

And as I sat there, half trembling, all she did was take a deep breath, squeeze my hand assuringly and then push open the door as she psyched herself up for one helluva type of meeting.

And as he stepped out, waltzing out of the building now as if he had no care in the world, was a tall, good-looking but highly manicured looking Muslim guy who I could almost certainly say was her infamous boss.

There was no question about it. It was Faadil, for sure.

I looked away as he came up to us, listening to them from afar, but I couldn’t escape the fact that something about the way he was interacting with her was just giving me a prickly sensation at the back of my neck.

There was a whole lot of backwards and forwards that went on between them and the two thugs that I had come to call them, when finally, I saw their car drive away as Mohsina closed her eyes and let out a huge breath.

”I’m so sorry to drag you into this,” I could hear Mohsina telling Faadil apologetically as he came up to us for the last time, looking like the cat who had caught a mouse. It seemed that something was finally resolved, but Mohsina was shifting uncomfortably due to severe embarrassment.

I wished that I could escape to Mohsina’s car to save myself from it too. Apparently one of her friends had her keys and had brought it over, but it was still locked.

”Don’t worry,” he said casually. “It’s sorted.”

”Alhumdulillah,” Mohsina breathed, and of course, I couldn’t help but say the same.

Maybe Faadil had been a means but Allah Ta’ala was the ultimate saviour.

These people had come, literally out of nowhere, turning our lives upside down and causing so much of mayhem on what was supposed to be a peaceful evening. Also, it was nearly Maghrib and we needed to head back to somewhere we could pray.

The fact that we would be on the road when it set in didn’t even bother Mohsina. What was happening to her? 

Mohsina was worried about other things… and it was making me a teeny bit angry. What happened to ‘But  first, Salaah’? It had been a common saying of hers up to a few months ago.

In fact, her boss’s presence here was unsettling. I needed to be alone with my sister, get down into the middle of it, find out what was going on.

Instead, her voice became fainter as she stepped away, and both of them went out of earshot for a few minutes. What was said, I had no idea, but when she came back, I could see her looking a little less stressed than before.

I, on the other hand, was feeling completely irate.

“He’s so bloody gracious,” she said, blinking back tears, looking back at him as if he was some kind of king. “He won’t tell me what they asked… I’m so embarrassed about the entire situation…”

I instantly felt myself get a more annoyed at her. But also, what did I expect?

I said nothing.

Gracious, but at what cost? She had probably bared her soul about what I was asking her about just an hour ago… while she… well, Mohsina- my very own blood sister – had become like a stranger who told me nothing and you could no longer get through to, no matter how much I spoke.

And of course, I was almost fuming as we walked back to where the entrance of the building was, and Faadil went up the flight of stairs to go back in.

“I needed to go and fetch my spare car keys from the apartment,” she explained as we stood at her car, not meeting my eye. “He’s going to bring it.”

I took a deep breath in, picturing exactly how this was going to happen. I was at that breaking point… the point where I had to say what I needed to or I would forever beat myself up about it.

“Listen Mos,” I said quietly, with great forbearance as we headed to her car together.

I didn’t want to say it, but someone had to, and it rather be me.

“Don’t you think that this too close for comfort?” I asked, trying to maintain my cool. “Office and home doesn’t need to mesh so much. It doesn’t look you are maintaining healthy distances. Maybe Nani has a point…”

She narrowed her eyes at me as I said the last part, obviously trodding on a sore point.

I continued anyway, knowing that I might as well go all out, since I had already started.

”Listen,” I said, appealing to her as she crossed her arms over her chest with an almost arrogant look on her face. “I don’t think that it’s okay to borrow things from him, let him feel as if he has some responsibility over you … and then on top of it, just let him into your flat as if you guys are so close and whadda whadda. You need to-”.

I lacked the charisma to fully explain and I had barely even started but she was already gone into defensive mode and already onto me from the word ‘listen’.

“How the hell do you expect me to go up there with a leg like this?!” She almost shouted, cutting me off and widening her eyes at me. “Not like you guys even care. Even Faadil noticed I was hurt! You made me drive and injure it even more! Of course he would offer to do it for me. It means nothing!  It’s the human thing to do!”

Oh, the pity party. How sweet.

“I would have gone,” I said quietly, ignoring her outburst. “Why didn’t you ask me?”

”Please,” she scoffed. “You can’t go into my place alone.”

I frowned. Yikes.

I can’t? But he can? Woah.

She sighed. She knew exactly what I was thinking.

“They own the place, okay,” she said, rolling her eyes at me. “Let’s just drop it. It’s like, sorted. Stop doing my head in.”

I took a deep breath, trying to dispel my anger and try once last time to knock some sense into her.

“All I’m saying is this,” I said, leaning against the car, still staying calm as I tried to get my point across. What on earth was even going right for her these days?

“Maybe all this is happening for a reason. Maybe Allah is trying to show you something, and maybe you need to listen to whatever that message is.”

And just as I finished, she turned and looked at me, her eyes betraying her words as I literally saw her shutting me off, and placing herself strategically behind that stone wall that she had set up the past few months.

“Maybe you should just mind your own business,” she said steadily, and with that, she grabbed the key that the door man had brought down to her at that point, without even thanking him, opened the car door of her car and then slammed it shut, leaving me wondering why I ever made an effort at all.

I mean, it was like nothing was hitting home anymore. She was losing her family, bit by bit. She had, very clearly, completely lost Hamzah. And I’m not sure at what point, but soon her Hayaa was on the verge on being completely lost too…

She said nothing and turned her face away, and for me… that was the breaking point. The day when. I pulled myself out… The day I decided  that I was no longer going to try.

We drove home in silence, avoiding each other as skillfully as we could for the next few days while she was on leave.

The week passed by and we barely spoke. Mohsina was barely around anyway, because her new infatuation was the baby and every waking moment was spent at Layyanah’s or getting something for Layyanah. By the time she headed back to work, it had been almost two weeks that we hadn’t spoken and I was refusing to make the first move.

In my mind… Mohsina had gone too far this time. She was pushing everyone away, and she had absolutely no regard for anyone’s feelings besides herself. Somewhere along the way, not only had she lost us, but she had lost the kind of person that we had all loved and admired.

I didn’t even stop to wonder if maybe instead of cutting her off, I could have kept her closer, offering her the support she would need to change her life again. I didn’t think further than that, or stop to realise exactly what had happened when Mohsina started slipping out of our reach completely, and that this was probably going to push her into a deeper corner and into a bigger problem than before.

The days were passing by at lightning speed, as we busied ourselves with renovations in the shop, making plans for accommodation that Papa was intent on offering, and basically getting on with life… and before I even knew it, weeks had passed and life went on, almost as if it was normal to be like be like enstranged siblings who barely knew each other at all.

And yes, I missed her, but I couldn’t quite push my pride aside and offer her what she really needed.

I couldn’t even offer her a word of hope. I cut her off, and myself back, pulling away, hoping that maybe to see her come alive again, she needs to lose a little more. That to grow, she needed some kind of hope and watering.

And I suppose that when I looked at my parents or generations before mine, I figured that maybe they took comfort in each  other because they didn’t have the false sense of security that everyone else values their worth by. Maybe they didn’t have 12k followers liking their pictures at their disposal when their real relationships got a little bit hard. Meanwhile, the people who love you without a filter on your face become an option and the rest of the world who sees the illusion becomes the priority.

I had unfollowed Mohsina on Instagram, blocked her on WhatsApp and only messaged her on the odd occasion that my mother needed to check something or my father wanted some business advice. I just didn’t want to see everything she was getting on with, while we were just ‘by the ways’ in her life. Cutting my sister out of my life was not only the worst mistake I had made, but not knowing what her day to day activities were was not only a recipe for disaster, but probably a direct catalyst in the path that she was taking the past few weeks.

And it was on a week day, a few weeks after the Porsche drama, as I perched on one of the wooden bar stools in the empty coffee shop, lost in a the version of only English Qurán translation and Tafsir that I’d been reading on and off for the past few weeks when I wasn’t clean, that it happened. I had made myself a cup of our famous Red cappuccino, barista style, as I lost myself in the stories of the past Prophets,and lessons that served to remind of many of the things we may have forgotten along the way.

It was a healing and soothing, a reminder that was very much needed when we found ourselves sucked in with the distractions of real life…

And as always, reading was my down time, my cooling off activity… the time I took out when I wanted to wind down and forget about everything that usually unsettled me. Sometimes we needed that little something to bring us back down to earth, to help ground us, and to help us to find our base once again. And what better than the reading and healing of the Qurān to relieve the heart that was so immersed in the world at any other given time?

And because it was quiet that particular day, Papa had sauntered off to the back of the shop for a quick stock take. On weekends, it got particularly busy, and with Layyanah being out of action, we had also put an ad out in the front for a manager, since Ma generally didn’t like me being in the serving section.

I glanced out for a moment through the translucent glass doors, only seeing the silhouette of a car in the driveway, thinking it was probably some passer by stopping for a drink as he or she would be on his way again.

The last verse was still floating through my head.. The essence of it was that evil must be removed with kindness:

Good and evil are not equal. Repel (evil) with what is best, and you will see that the one you had mutual enmity with him will turn as if he were a close friend. (Holy Qurān, Surah Fussilāt) 

It was a tough lesson to learn that made me instantly ponder about my behaviour with my sister.  How do you continue to be kind to someone despite them pushing you away? Despite you finding their behaviour repulsive? How are you kind to someone who doesn’t appreciate the effort….

Maybe it wasn’t about that.

I glanced down at the lesson of how the closeness of Allah can inspire not only your goodness, but more good, letting it capture and enlighten me for a few more minutes. And I was all caught up in my own thoughts as I wondered if I should maybe message her or not, opening up the channels of communication … until I heard a voice in front of me, not yet looking up because I was well aware from the voice had come from a male customer.

“Salaam’u’alaykum,” he said, and I could almost swear that the voice was mildly familiar but I wasn’t quite sure.

I closed my book and hopped off the stool, letting my legs touch the ground, telling him to gie me a minute as I glanced up at him, and then literally froze in my tracks.

Gosh, he was even better looking than I remembered, when he had darkened our doorway, just a few weeks back. His eyes, their colour couldn’t quite capture yet, boring into me as I looked away.

And okay. I couldn’t exactly say that I hadn’t thought about this guy a few times before this, but it didn’t make it right.

It was wrong by any standard, but I mean, any insanely handsome guy that asked about my father the first time I had seen them would probably make a lasting impression. It was just that this particular guy was asking to see my father for all the wrong reasons.

Bad news, Jameela , I warned myself. Lower your gaze immediately. This guy is not just bad news. He is dangerously bad news.

I sucked in my breath, frozen again for what seemed like ages, as I swallowed, wondering if I should really call Papa or not.

What if this was some sort of trap?

Oh, how I wished that Mohsina had just told me what was going on the fisrt and last time I had seen him. I wished I knew more. Crazy thoughts were racing through my head as I thought, once again, of all the things that could happen. And then he spoke.

”Listen, I’m not here to scare you,” he said, his voice actually sounding… normal. “I wanted to talk. I see you have an ad in front…”

Oh goodness. Don’t they stop with the chasing? Because we are employing people they probably think we have so much of extra money lying around to pay off stupid debts.

“It’s not what you think,” he said, his voice dropping, almost to a whisper. “I think it’s important that you know… I’m not like my uncle. Nothing like him, in fact.”

He was emphatic about the last part.

So that was his uncle. The scary, beady-eyed looking man who had freaked me out just by his mere presence. How were they even related? 

Anger was rising within me as I thought of how they had come to our home, demanding things that we were impossible at the time and turning our world upside down.

I turned around slowly, swallowing hard as he looked down now, a little bit embarrassed.

Well, he better be. After all the havoc he’d caused, that’s the least he could be.

“I need to speak to your father,” he finally said, still looking at the floor. “There’s something I think he needs to know.”

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A little bit of a twist, but a fun one maybe?! Love to hear your thoughts as always 🤍

Mission Sunnah Revival

In an effort to revive a Sunnah, let’s try and put our family first, instead of friends, followers and anyone else… be the best we can be to those who truly do love us the most ❤️

Sunnah of being best to our family.

Aisha reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “The best of you are the best to their families, and I am the best to my family. When your companion dies, then do not abuse him.”

Source: Sunan al-Tirmidhī 3895

Du’aa for Rajab 

اَللّهُمَّ بَارِكْ لَنَا فِى رَجَبَ وَ 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.”

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

In the Moment

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Khawlah

Roses are Red,

Violets are Blue,

I don’t do poetry,

But I do love you. 

The soft tune of the beautiful Nasheed played as I glanced at my phone, my brow instantly furrowing as the words lit up on my screen.

“What was that..”

I mean, my phone had buzzed and it was there just a second ago, and now… it was gone. It was just a fleeting moment of cuteness, and now…

And wait, did it actually say “I love you“?

“Hey, don’t act like that,” Aadam said loudly, glancing at me and pretending to be hurt. “That was my hard-written poetry. It took me like, a whole day to write.”

”Is it another one of your hidden talents now?” I asked, trying to be light-hearted, despite my hammering chest.

Well, trust Aadam’s to send it to me as a ‘flash message’ which was probably gone somewhere to Jupiter by now. Besides not being the best with gadgets, there was no way I would even know how to get if back… even if I tried.

“How did you do that?” I turned to look at him.

He narrowed his eyes at me, taking them off the road for a second to do so.

”The Freemasons,” he whispered, looking all mysterious, as he quickly fixed his gaze on the road ahead again.

I wanted to giggle. Really? The Freemasons?

“By the way, you look like a million bucks today,” he said suddenly, raising his one eyebrow. Another talent he had. “I think that may be the reason they’re stalking you.”

Despite my mood, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Is that a smile I see?”

I kept silent. My tummy was doing weird things again.

“The least a gal can do is say thank you…” he said, in a cowboy accent.

“Did you copy and paste?” I asked, trying to keep my face straight.

Aadam chuckled, as he drove, moving his free hand toward mine as he grasped it tightly. His warmth was comforting, although it wasn’t yet completely familiar to me.

The late night phone calls were by the way. We had barely spent any time together, well… in person… but it was amazing how we just synced with each other… even when we were still just a little more than strangers. He was an easy person. I felt like a huge chunk within my chest that had already been irrevocably surrendered to this guy, and there was really no going back from here.

“You’re a real toughie, aren’t you?”

I grinned at his statement. I didn’t sway easily. That was right.

The robot was red, and he turned to me for  a second, with that intimate look he usually had when he wanted to say something serious. I knew him that much to understand his words were probably going to be a little more important than usual…

”Listen, Angel,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. He looked a bit hesitant about his next words, though.

“Don’t take it personally, yeah? Mum’s a bit… difficult.”

I breathed out, thinking about earlier that evening. Earlier, when his mother just ignored me as if I was not even there.

”I don’t think she likes me very much,” I said, a little quietly.

Okay, so I kind of guessed it when I didn’t get a huge welcoming smile from her. I knew that Rubeena’s mother would be a challenge though, but I was not going to let her break me. Maybe she just needed some time.

“That’s nuts!” He exclaimed, shaking his head. “Don’t you dare even think that! I still can’t believe that she did that… I mean you’re a guest, and I know what that means now… but Mum… she doesn’t know better.”

Really?

I supposed he was right in a way. That was a bit of the problem these days. I remembered Foi Nani always talking about guests. She used to say Mehmaan.

‘When Mehmaan come, treat them like royalty.’

It sounded so old-fashioned, but I didn’t understand it back then. How important it was to honor your guest.. and how much of reward there is in entertaining them. This is the beauty in knowing our faith… it’s perfection and hospitality knows no bounds.

“I mean, the treatment I receive as a guest when I go anywhere Khawlah… especially when I’m with the guys…. it’s beauty.”

I wanted to ask him more, but I felt like a lump was stuck in my throat.

“It’s okay,” I said, a little shakily. “I’m not really a guest..”

”A new daughter in law should be treated better than a guest,” he said stubbornly, and I kept silent as I saw his jaw clenching tightly, as if he had really taken it personally.

It was the first time I had seen such a adamant side of Aadam and it was a little scary.

My mind was occupied with worries about the time Aadam would be away. He didn’t even get to tell his mother the big news. My heart burned for him, because I could tell that he was so excited, especially about telling her. No matter what she did… Anyone could see his mother was really important to him. It was something that concerned me yet also contented me as well. He was really a good guy.

And talking about honouring guests, Aadam’s big news was precisely that. I couldn’t forget the words he uttered when  he told me as we sat on the handmade swings, swaying side by side.

“Allah’s called me to meet him,” he had finally said. “I’ve just been called for Hajj.”

He looked like he couldn’t believe it himself. Apparently, he had applied the previous year with a few of the guys he had met.

 And of course, I sucked in my breath as he said it, because I was so overwhelmed.

“That’s amazing,” I said, a little dreamily.

He’d been called as a guest… to the best place. And of course, I couldn’t help the tugging feeling at my heart as I felt its throb.

Without me? He was going to the best land in the world… with the best journey of a lifetime… and he was doing it without me?

Oh, my heart.

I could still picture the beauty of the Ka’bah, all those years ago when we had gone with Mama, the year before she got really sick. It was our last trip… her last wish that Abba had fulfilled. My heart yearned to hear the hustle and bustle Makkah again… To breathe in the sweet air of Madinatun Nabi… To walk towards the Haramain.. With that feeling of closeness to the most Beloved of Allah swelling in my heart…

But Allah knew whose call was there… and He knew when our Labbaik will be answered.

And of course I would never stop him from going. His mother though… she still didn’t give him a hearing. She had point blank refused to leave the room that she stayed locked in, and we eventually all left with heavy hearts to follow Rubeena home. She wanted us to come in for tea but I really didn’t feel like it. I just wasn’t in the mood.

I really just wanted to go home. To crawl under my decade-old lilac duvet and live there till morning.

I loved that Aadam was so positive but the reality was that his mother wasn’t going to warm up to me any time soon.

And I was trying to be positive too. I mean, I was trying to understand their mothers point of view. I got that she felt threatened, insecure and all the rest of it… I also got that she really and dearly loved her darling son and I did not want to cause problems between any of them. I just needed us be civil to each other.

Aadam sped up as he took the off-ramp, and I clung onto my seat as he took a turn, glancing at my tightened knuckles in amusement.

“I see you don’t like my car?” he said, with a small smile.

“Well…” I started, not wanting to be rude either. We were brought up differently. Different values.. opinions… different things were important to each of us.

Besides, although Abba had been doing really well at one stage, Foi Nani always gave him a scolding when she saw him getting too flashy. That said, he had owned one really expensive car when Aunty Nas was married to him (it was her request, as you could imagine)…. and I suppose that could kind of explain why I hadn’t ever been a fan of fancy cars.

The thing is, when it came to materialistic things, I think we were just tuned differently. Childhoods, by default, are inherently magical. My parents strongly believe that we didn’t need things to make it that.  With us, Foi Nani and Abba always believed that extra toys, birthday parties and unnecessary outings were just wasn’t what it took to make things amazing. No matter what we had, as a child, everything was still magical.

The thing is that we will keep on filling ourselves with Duniyaa to satisfy our desires. This world and it’s love knows no bound… Whether it be shoes, handbags or holidays to tour the world.. all it is is more extravagance and the greed of more and more. Posting pictures, portraying this kind of lifestyle that we are living for this world … when we have this overwhelming desire to show others what we have… it becomes a disease, and creates a desire in others to have more and more.

And then, man’s greed will have no end, as long as he lives in this world.

He goes on entangling himself in one thing and another for increase in his income, for more luxury, for more pomp and fashion… having no rest to even remember the One who had blessed him with it all. This is why our beloved Prophet (SAW) made the Du’aa:

Allahuma Aj’al Rizqah Aalah Muhammadun Quwtah 

“Oh Lord! Let the provisions of my family be a bare sufficiency” (i.e. just enough for their bare needs, lest they be entangled in the vicious circle of getting more and more.)

That was the Du’aa of the most beloved of Allah (SAW).  I mean, think about it… while he lived, Allah Ta’ala never let that wealth enter his household. He didn’t want the light of Nabi (SAW) to be contaminated with the filth of this world.

And I knew Aadam was young and he had worked hard for his money… but I knew this was also where my test was. This was where our differences lie. I hated being so rigid, but having these opinions were part of who I am. Besides, I wasn’t exactly the type that liked the attention. How did I explain it to him in the best way?

“Well, it’s not exactly my favourite choice,” I said carefully.

And although his face fell, he knew exactly what was on my mind.

“That’s it,” he said immediately, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m selling it. Really. I just needed that push. Just imagine it’s already gone, okay? Anything else? You know I’ll do anything for you, yeah? Just to make you happy. Just to make sure you know that you did make the right choice…”

I grinned. He didn’t have to do anything for me. But yes, It was kind of amazing…

“Nah, thats it for now,” I said, with an hint of feigned fussiness. “Let me sleep over it and I’ll have more requests tomorrow.”

I knew what I really wanted. I just wished that he could change his mother’s heart.

And of course, I knew there was only one thing that could change her heart.

“Okay, whatever you want, I’m ready for it. And if I can’t do whatever it is… I’m going to have to be making a fervent Du’aa…”

I swallowed my emotion as he said it. I wanted to cry on his shoulder. Of course, he was going to the best of places to do it, and he had to plead with Allah to make it happen…

“Just give her a call when I’m gone, yeah?” He suddenly said, looking as if he was thinking really hard about this one.

I wasn’t sure what to say. I felt torn. I really didn’t want to. I supposed that’s what people mean when the say marriage isn’t easy. It’s not always all peachy… barely always rosy. Not always perfect, with that swept me off my feet, cloud-nine kind of feeling.

Yes, those moments are part of it, and they are beautiful and inspiring and oh-so-intoxicating, but there are moments when reality is harsher than we think.

Everyone has their tests. Some people deal with difficult husbands. Some people have difficult wives. Some people have other trials in their lives… in their marriages… infertility, abuse, depression… the list goes on…

I found myself thinking of Zuleikha. Of Rubeena. Life wasn’t easy. Marriage wasn’t smooth-sailing. I just hoped and prayed that I’d make the right choices if I ever got there.

I, on the other hand, just had one woman who seemed like she wanted my blood. She probably wouldn’t even talk to me. I didn’t say anything though because just as  he rounded into Rubeena’s street behind her, the pile-up of cars that seemed like they were stationed around Rubeena’s property caught our eye.

Of course, Aadam sped up as we reached the house, and with a worried look on his face, pushed his door open with such a force that I thought it was going to fall off. All I could see was him sprinting toward the house like an Olympic athlete, Kurta lifted, and panic sleeping through every bone.

There were about seven cars all parked awkwardly around the house, and amongst them was a car with flashing lights that had just arrived on the scene. Of course, my heart was thudding incessantly in my own chest as I fiddled with the finicky handle of the car, anxious to know what was going on too.

Of course, my first thoughts were the kids. The kids. I had to check on them. I didn’t want them to go in, if anything was wrong…

I sprinted over to Rubeena’s car, just as she arrived back there, looking like she was in turmoil . He face was a ghastly white and her eyes were wide with shock. I offered the kids some comforting words just before I rushed over to her, in kind of a panic. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

“Rubeena!” I said, clicking my fingers in front of her face, as she stared into space. She looked like she was in a trance.

Now, I was getting really scared. Not to mention, absolutely distressed. Something was wrong.

“Khaw… lah…” she almost whispered, and just as I was about to get to her, a figure from the inside emerged, their words colliding over each other as I tried to comprehend something from the jumble of sentences they were rattling off…

My heart was bursting with anxiety. The moments seemed to drag as I looked from them to her, and then back as I tried to figure out who this man really was… and then, just as I kind of made sense of it, and all the puzzles pieces started clicking into place… without any warning…

Rubeena’s body just collapsed to the ground.

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A little bit of drama … please do remember this writer in all your special Du’aas

Much love, 

A 🌸

Especially in these Mubarak days, let’s remember to make extra Ibadat.

A tip that’s also a Sunnah:  

Aaisha (RA) said about the Beloved Prophet :

“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

 

 

 

 

 

When Real Roses Win

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Khawlah

You know what it’s like when you’ve waited for something special that you’ve ordered to come in the post… and then, it actually comes…. a day early?!

That feeling…

“Oh my word, Khawlah, it’s snow!”

Yunus was screeching as I still lay in bed one morning, deliberating in my mind whether step out of my comfort zone or not.

Of course, despite the cold, immediately following his outburst, I jumped out of bed in haste, and speedily searched for the warmest items of clothing I could find in the messy pile on my chair. Yanking the curtains open, I peered outside to see if it really was as he said, and the sight that met me… well, it simply took my breath away.

That feeling of unexpected joy. Well, that was exactly it. An overwhelming excitement. I was ecstatic, as my eyes feasted on the splendor that looked, oh-so-inviting.

Who would have ever thought we could have such spectacular snow in the most southern tip of Africa?

I was a boisterous ten-year-old at the time, and I could barely believe that as we slept that winters night, the skies had opened up to a silent downpour. It was like blinding whiteness, that had descended so gracefully during the night, and the most amazing part was- we had no inkling whatsoever.

I breathed in as I stepped outside, the iciness catching slightly at my throat as I rubbed my gloves hands together in glee and followed my brothers into the open and deserted road. Of course, we were thrilled to have a ‘snow day’, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I would last in this cold. We didn’t exactly have the best snow gear.

I trudged along, trying to figure out where exactly it all stopped, and although it wasn’t the thickest layer of icy delight, the whiteness on that morning seemed… endless. It was simply beautiful… but, before I had actually witnessed this, I didn’t realize just how freezing snow really was.

I shuddered as I felt a thud at the back of my scarved neck, instantly moving myself  around as fast as I could, despite the hindering snow.

I scowled, dusting off the moisture that I could feel at my neck. I should have guessed the culprit.

Khalid stood a few meters away, chuckling in delight as he saw the expression of annoyance on my face. Of course he would find it funny.

”It’s only water,” he grinned, thrilled with the snow that had made its appearance after so many years. He was all geared up with a beanie, mittens and a heavy duty rain jacket. I hadn’t seen him since a few days, and secretly, I was happy to see that my friend was okay.

“Frozen water!” I retorted unhappily , blinking at him angrily. Khalid wasn’t fazed.

He was still chuckling away as a voice called my name from the near distance. It sounded like my father.

Khalid busied himself with gathering more snow, almost as if he had been doing that all along and I scowled again, turning on my heel and making my way up to the house before another snowball hit. He could tell I wasn’t happy with him. I would get him back later, when it wasn’t so cold.

“Hey, Khawlah,” he called out from behind, and it was kind of strange because when I looked at him, I could, for the first time ever, see Khalid’s expression change to something of regret. He actually looked… apologetic.

I shivered as I looked down at him from the slope I stood on, my expression immediately softening. Amidst the presence of the snowfield, Khalid’s lively eyes looked almost blue. His gaze shifted off of me as he simply unzipped half his jacket, stuffed his covered hands into his inner pocket and fumbled briefly before he finally pulled it out again to reveal… the most perfectly colored burgundy rose.

”It’s for you,” he said, thrusting it at me consciously, as I stared him down. I wanted to smile but I didn’t want to let him off the hook.

I couldn’t imagine how he had probably hunted in this blizzard to find such a perfect rose. Khalid knew my weakness, and had used it to his advantage.  In our eyes, of course, this beauty of a flower was extremely valuable. The perfect curve of the stem and the natural rose perfume that it emitted was extremely rare indeed. Of all the roses we had picked this winter, despite Aunty Radiyyah’s scolding, it was my favorite one yet.

He took a step forward, prompting me to take it. I shivered again as I stared at the ice that stuck to my furry boots.

“Can you see that, Khawlah..?” He said now, speaking softer, as he watched me, scrutinizing his rose. He pointed to its innermost part with one bare hand. “Papa says that everything that Allah created is with such perfection.. every unique finger  print… each petal on every flower … every flake of falling snow… every thing is so special. Khawlah, can you even imagine how much Allah can really do? ”

I met his icy gaze for a second, narrowing my eyes, just as the bellowing for me from the distance resounded again. I wasn’t prepared to let him off the hook just yet, so I grabbed the rose without another word, because honestly… I didn’t know what to say.

He was right of course. Khalid, courtesy of his father’s inspiration, always spoke about the most unseemly attributes that we forgot about our Creator. Imagine the anti-climax if our Glorious Lord had chosen to make every leaf the same, and every petal look alike..? Life would honestly have no flavor to it at all. Our entire universe would have been so… uniform… so boring. Out of the Almighty’s beautiful mercy… we have been give such variety in every aspect of our lives. In everything, every life, every beauty, there is a sign for us to believe…

“…(Such is) the artistry of Allah, Who disposes of all things in perfect order…” (al-Naml 27:88).

Like the most superb of artists, Allah has fashioned such perfection, and still yet some choose not to believe. Such an array fruit, flowers, foods, and so much more… the uniqueness of everything that we have so bountifully been given adds an entirely different appeal to life that we cannot encompass.

To have a friend who reminded me of this was invaluable, I knew. At times when Khalid spoke, I felt as if I knew nothing at all.

I muttered something about catching him later, making my way back to my brothers. Ahmed acknowledged me with a grunt as he saw the rose. That was the politeness of my elder brother.

“So, did Khalid propose to you again?”

Ugh. Ahmed never ceased to have a go at me. I could feel my cheeks flaming up, despite the severe cold. Ever since I had very openly declared Khalid’s childish proposal to my entire family a few years before, Ahmed never missed an opportunity to make my life miserable.

As I was getting older, of course, mentioning it was just… awkward. I was sure that Khalid had even forgot. And although I knew that Ahmed had always been teasing, somehow, as I finally we got back inside that day, and I carefully placed the rose in a small vase, there was a slightly irate look on his face as he briefly told me that I was getting too old to play with boys.

He was right, of course. It was just as well that I barely saw Khalid those days, so I ignored his comment even as he raised his eyebrows at me, with a look of disdain on his face.

And of course, now as I shivered on the step, and Ahmed’s gaze settled on me steadily again, I couldn’t help but recall those awkward moments that seemed to replaying right at that moment, once again. He wasn’t happy with me, and as his gaze settled on me, I got the feeling that he wanted to let me know it.

Ahmed was definitely not the easiest person to please or even appease, and as I shifted my gaze to Adam, I could tell that he was wary. My gosh, so was I. Why was Ahmed always so scary? 

Danyaal and Dayyaan were sent by their uncle to shower, and I felt even more awkward as the two of them looked at me in semi-silence. I felt like I needed to apologize for something, but the situation was not exactly forthcoming. I could already tell that my brother didn’t want us to talk alone, and he was making no secret of it.

“Just a few minutes?” Adam asked him, looking at me for approval.

I said nothing, looking at Ahmed for some sign of consent, despite the hammering in my chest. It was obvious that after Adam had spoke to my father and Ahmed, he now felt the need to take matters into his hands and sort this out. Well, sort me and my inconclusiveness out. Obviously, we needed to speak… but I just didn’t expect it to be this way. Every time anyone in my family had suggested him coming home, I had conveniently changed the topic. Now, of course, there was no way of avoiding it.

“We’ll be right here,” Adam said, gesturing to the lounge in the next room, and his statement comforted me as well.  Ahmed visibly relaxed, and despite my unseemly appearance, I followed behind Adam carefully, almost as if I was afraid of stepping on something. I knew that Adam had a right to be upset at me. I had left him hanging for so long.

Of course, my heart was beating madly in my chest as we entered the second lounge, and Adam gestured for me to take a seat.

I placed the towel down and gingerly sat at the edge of the suede one-seater, still unable to look at Adam in the eye. Even though I knew what this was going to entail… nothing really prepared you for the actual meeting when you would have to face it all on your own. I wasn’t sure how much longer I was going to last. When I was nervous weird things with my stomach were quite threatening to my general well- being. It was quite embarrassing. I tried to focus on the subtle decor in the room instead. Rubeena had good taste.

“I’m going to get straight to the point,” Adam said, and all I could think to myself was, thank goodness.

I was so worried. Super scared. Not to mention… afraid that he’d be angry at me for being so evasive about his almost confirmed proposal those few weeks ago…

Adam didn’t take a seat. I looked up at him with , but contrary to my expectation, Adam didn’t look angry.

For the first time ever, I noticed something unique about him. Of course, Nusaybah was right. He was very much worth ogling. Aesthetically, of course, he was barely lacking… but as he stood there, I realized that my own inclination wasn’t at all about the superficial aspects. There was just something about him that made people feel comfortable. He was easy… approachable… and something about him told me that there was a story behind his candidness that I didn’t know. A story that, in all its spectacle, I had no idea of as yet.

“I know everything’s been a mess, Khawlah,” he started. He said my name correctly, despite the fact that his accent wasn’t typical. I assumed that Danyaal had probably drilled it into him.

I nodded. That was an understatement.

“There’s so much that’s been going on…”

I held my breath. Now was the moment that he was going to  probably going to burst my bubble. He was probably trying to be tactful all this time.

And somehow, just when you tend to underestimate someone’s good nature, and significantly overlook the possibility of them just opening a door that you thought had been shut all along… they surprise you.

“Hey, don’t look so scared.”

He stopped pacing as he said that and looked straight at me, for the first time that day. I looked back at him too, surprised at his statement.

I swallowed as he said that, because somehow, he had hit the nail on the head. I had been so scared… I had even been avoiding this… because I didn’t want to face what it would bring. The entire facade was such a step back for me, and such an attack at my own self-esteem. It made me question my values, my tolerance, and at times… even my self- worth.

Adam took a step closer as he watched me from afar, and I found myself watching him back as he walked up to me, bending his long legs as he took a seat opposite me.

His expression was serious and slightly disconcerting.

“Khawlah, I’ve had a messy past,” he said now, his voice a bit lower. “I’ve done so many things that I wish I could just… trash. Edit. Erase. But the worst part about my past is that its true, and it won’t go away. I’ve done bad things, and I can’t lie about it. I will never hide the truth from you… .”

I was, somewhat transfixed. Did I want to know? I needed to, but I knew Ahmed was listening to us, and I wasn’t sure if this was the right time. What about his parents? There was still much to be said, but Adam wasn’t done either…

“But today, Khawlah,” he continued, speaking even softer. “It’s not about me. My being here, is because I wanted you to know that you have nothing to worry about. I know you’ve been hurt and you’ve lost people who you love, and had to face a dark side of reality that probably broke you inside. I hate that…”

I was stunned to silence as I  stared at him in bewilderment. How did he know all of these things? 

“But Khawlah, you’re tough and I know that you don’t need saving. I also know I’m no match for you… but because of what I do and want to believe, I’m taking this chance.”

”Aadam,” I finally said, wanting to apologize and feeling terrible. He held his hand up, signaling for me to let him finish.

“The thing is, I live in a virtual world,” he said, his dark eyes boring into mine as he spoke. Like Danyaals, his lashes were so long  and I looked away, feeling so conscious of myself.

“Reality is sometimes far fetched. I spend most of my time living in a place where anything can be corrected with the tap of a few buttons. Comments can be deleted. Mistakes can be undone… things can be fixed. I want to fix everything… or at least try…”

I looked up at him, now hopeful. He sounded so promising.

“And I will. But the thing is Khawlah, although virtual reality is so amazing… What I’ve learnt here, is so… so real. And of course, the boys have this amazing knack of proving to me that the real world wonders still win, hands-down.”

I smiled, somewhat involuntarily. They were right, of course. With their insight, ability to perceive and their amazing device of no-filter, kids can often teach us a thing or two. When you look up from that world of delusion, the amazement that you can discover is simply mind-blowing.

I held my breath.

“Yeah, I could have done this any other way,” he murmured now, a little strangely, and I could tell it was just nerves. This was obviously not easy for him. “A virtual ring…. A personalized video… would have been so much simpler. But I’m so sure of this, that I needed it to be real. I’m taking this plunge because I know that it will change everything…”

He swallowed and looked up at me now, running his fingers through his beard roughly. His beard was now almost full and involuntarily, my mind relapsed to those months ago when I saw his first sign of change…

It was the first sign. The first hope for him… The first mistake I had made had, had turned out completely differently for him, and I had no idea.

I wanted to ask him what had happened. I wanted to ask him how it had all changed. Of course, there was so much I wanted to ask him about himself too.

”I hope this is real enough,” he said, looking up at me briefly.

He shifted as he moved up on the couch, a little closer, and of course I had to look again because almost like a magician, his hand suddenly manifested the deepest and most richly colored rose I had seen in months.

It was perfection. And my goodness, it was so real.

He placed it next to me with a tiny smile, and despite my heart already being a goner, he clasped  his hands together, bit his lip nervously, and spoke.

“Will you give this a chance?”

---

Dearest Readers,

Western ideology portray proposals where there’s no dating or prior exclusive meeting, as outdated and not feasible. I wanted to show the beauty in Deen, modesty, and that discussion to a certain extent is permitted. I’ve also personally heard of some boys who have brought a bunch of flowers or chocolates for a girl who they came to ‘see’, despite not meeting her before. I thought it was a really amazing gesture, because it shows his compassion and appreciation of her time, even if the proposal does not work out.

For those readers who may be having to go through the awkward proposals and checklists for marriage, I found a lovely article with some awesome points. 🌹

https://productivemuslim.com/productive-marriage-proposal/

Nabi (SAW) told a companion who was due to marry, “Go and look at her, for that is more likely to increase love between you two” (Tirmidhi 1087).

With regard to the boy and girl chatting (and looking), we know that this is only allowed under circumstances where there is a Mahram present and the talk will probably decide the outcome of the proposal… and hopefully a quick Nikah. ❤️

May Allah save us from haraam and assist us in doing the right thing, always for His pleasure…

Aameen 🌹

Much Love,

A 🌸

The character of Nabi (SAW).

Nabi (SAW) was the most pleasant person. He would greet everyone with a smile and always spoke to people with gentleness. His companion said about Him:

“I have never seen a man who smiled as much as the Messenger of Allah.” (Tirmidhi)

This shows that the personality of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) was pleasant and gentle.

Let’s revive this Sunnah InshaAllah, because it is through our Akhlaaq that people can see the light of Islam and beauty of Deen.

How easy to practise!

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq

 

#missionsunnahrevival 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#revivetheSunnahofeating

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IG: @thejourneyingmuslimah