A Change of Heart

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Bismihi  Ta’ala 

 

Jameela 

Part 39

I once heard a beautiful something that went something like this:

 

The heart is like a mirror. If it is not cleaned properly, it will not properly reflect the recognition of it’s Lord.

 

And it may not seem like a game-changer, but you see, everyone thinks they are fine, until they realise that they’re not.

 

And only once I experienced this for myself, did I realise what it truly meant to have a dead heart. A heart that sees nothing beyond what is layered on top of its dust. A heart that is beating, but has no connection to the one who fashioned it. 

 

Because before this, I was alive in body, but my heart was drenched in ignorance. I was experiencing a spiritual drought. I was desperately in need of some showers of mercy. 

 

But every once in a while, there comes a time in life, a period of intense need, when the thirsty hearts of man are aching for a spiritual change of season, but need a little push to get there. 

 

And as Ramadhaan approached that year, I could already feel my heart yearning for its solace. The souls were stifled. Hearts were undoubtedly ill. The buzz in the air was palpable as Mummy did the usual mundanities of bulk grocery shopping and samoosas galore.

 

And don’t get me wrong, okay. I’m not saying that it was Nani’s samoosas …. but what I did know was that the samoosa filling that happened at the onset of every Ramadhaan did play a really vital role in this particular development, as much as Nani tried to deny it, but that, I’ll come back to later.

What I could say for sure was sometimes when you least expect it, life can do a 360 on you. 

 

A change that can change the hearts, like never before. 

And what changed it, you may ask? 

Well, all I can say is that there’s a time in life when you come to realise that there are certain things that can only come from the wealth of Allah Ta’alas treasures. Through dusting of the layers. Through cleansing the hearts. Through starving the Nafs. Through nourishing the souls… through Dhikr, through Salaah… and most of all, with Quran…  

Quran Shareef was the reason that Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) was able to cope with his life.

 

I mean, who can claim to have a life worse than him? No matter what our beloved Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) experienced, he was never hopeless, because he had the Quran.

 

And the same can ring true for us too. The cure from the Curer. The Healer of Hearts. With Him, with His sublime message, the storm can never be too fierce, and without him, surely we will get knocked by even the slightest of a breeze. 

 

But sometimes we need a little stumble, to seek our Lord again.

It was still the week before Ramadhaan when it all started, when we should have been preparing spiritually but we obviously hadn’t, as I walked into the room, I had no idea whatsoever about what lay ahead, but what I was seeing before me was already giving me a little clue…

 

“Hey pretty mama,” I whispered to my sister as I walked into the spare room of our double story home, which undoubtedly had the best view of the plot that my father had inherited from our late grandparents. 

 

There she was, my gorgeous sister. Even in her frumpy  clothes, she was still a stunner.

Nevermind, she was lounging in her scruffy grey gown and pink fluffy slippers. It didn’t matter that her hair was dishevelled and make up completely trashed, Mohsina was the step-in mother who was just trying to pull through. 

 

She was rocking Zaid vigorously as she tried to settle his squirming body, which seemed to be particularly restless that day. I honestly did not know she had this in her.

I could see her grape-coloured burka I had gifted her for Eid the previous year placed next to her, over the chair, and the Quran she had used since madrassa days lying next to the crib, on a higher shelf. It had probably been a while since she opened it, but I knew that recently, since we had lost Layyanah, she had made it her daily routine to read a few Juz of Quran, and I could literally see the effect on her heart. 

That was the beauty part of reading for the deceased. There’s no one in the equation who does not benefit, and neither does it remove from the reward of the reciter. In fact, it was probably her salvation from the craziness of this new life…

As for Zaid, Mohsina was really trying everything to keep him settled, but it wasn’t easy. Nani was trying too, putting all her past skills to good use, while she embarked on this great role of alleged great-grand parenthood. 

“Did you try the gripe water mixture Nani made?” I asked, looking at the empty bottle next to the bed, and feeling a teeny bit sorry for her.

 

“Yasss,” she said enthusiastically, plopping down on the rocker while she held him tightly. His eyes were still wide open as he looked at her. “Tell her to make more. And then she can maybe massage him like she did last week. And put him on her knee to sleep. He hasn’t made a poo in two days.”

 

Oh gosh, TMI. Like why do mothers say things like that? 

Zaid was sucking on the pacifier in his mouth, but looking far from contented. 

 

And I knew it was the formula battle that was causing it. It was why Layyanah had been breastfeeding so persistently in the first place. I remember her once saying that she found that he twisted and turned in his sleep when he drank huge amounts of formula. 

 

She stifled a yawn as she tried to place him down as gently as she could, but he immediately gave out a moan, making her scoop him up and cradle him once again, pressing his stomach to keep him from squirming.

 

“Where is Nani, by the way?” Mohsina sighed, frowning slightly. She was looking a tad bit frustrated. 

 

I knew she wanted the help but I wasn’t good with Zaid at all. He always bawled in my arms.

 

“Filling samoosas,” I said with a small smirk. “From before Fajr. We’ll have samoosas coming out of our ears by the end of Ramadhaan.”

Mohsina’s eyes widened.

 

“I hope she is not planning on serving Samoosas today,” she said in a warning tone. “I ordered the woolies cookies and cappuccinos and Ma says she baked, and that’s all I was planning on giving them. Samoosas would just give them the wrong idea…”

Samoosas. Well, Nani’s entire life at the moment revolves around samoosas, and about that, there was nothing much I could say.

 

“Talking about woolies,” I replied with a tiny smile. “Nani wasn’t too thrilled about the nappy purchase from there last week. Or the formula. Said you’re wasting your money. She said next time to give you her list and she’ll get you a pensioners discount from the supermarket down the road.”

 

Mohsina grinned. Nani’s reaction to the whole situation was something that was pretty awesome. It was probably due to the fact that my sister was adopting an entirely new kind of role in her new-found life that was very much like the role Nani had always imagined for her… minus the husband. 

And of course, it was a shocker for me too. For the first time in years, Mohsina’s phone was barely in her hand. Work had taken a backseat. Her entire life had changed and Nani was noticing it too. Most of all, despite the heartbreak in the backdrop, it had almost completely healed their rocky relationship.

 

Almost. Except for the unmentionable things that Mohsina or Nani never mentioned. 

 

“Nani,” Mohsina mumbled lovingly with a shake of her head, and a humoured look in her eyes. “How can we explain to her the value of convenience? It’s the click of a button, and everything is here. Now I understand why new mothers always look like they do. Honestly, Jamz, I will never look at a stay-at-home mother the same way ever again. They are the new royalty.”

 

I never thought I’d hear the day that Mohsina would say that. And I was so, so in awe of her too. 

As for Nani, besides being thrilled about everything else, since she had heard about the new development this morning where Hamzah and family were due to come this afternoon to see the baby and discuss options on how to care for him in the best way, Nani’s entire purpose in life seemed to alter.

 

”Ohhh, he’s coming here?!” She had said disbelievingly as she heard my mother talking.

 

She said ‘he’ as if he was some kind of royalty or A-list celebrity. 

 

Her half-filled Samoosa was in mid-air as she stared at my mother inquiringly.

 

She was all anxious and excited as Ma explained to her that he wanted to spend time with the baby and was coming with a Maulana, and some of his family who wanted to talk about guardianship of the baby. Ma had made it clear that it was meant to be very professional and serious and no funny business was possible, and asked Nani to make special Duaas for them to come to an amicable decision. 

“Duaas are always there,” she said with an interesting glint in her eyes, but said no more as she continued stuffing the samoosas with chicken mince once more.

 

I walked toward the window, almost automatically, as she smiled back at me, glimpsing a kurta-clad figure in the yard and knowing exactly who it was. The kurta was uncharacteristic for a normal morning, and as I watched, not realising just how long I was standing and unashamedly staring, her voice sounded behind me.

 

 “Who you looking at like that?“ 

I blushed, knowing she had caught me red-handed as I quickly turned away.

Ah yes, the hearts were certainly ill and needed some intense healing…  

 

Especially mine. Tarnished and blackened by all the sins.

 

We tried, a lot of the time, not to cross paths… but sometimes it was unavoidable. 

 

Also, the way Mohsina was looking at me was even more unavoidable.

 

And as I looked at her too, I could see this changed woman who was nothing like self-centered one I had thought she was all these months. She had gone from someone that I could barely relate to, to an amazing woman who I looked up to and greatly admired .

 

Now, to add fuel to fire, she was mercilessly scrutinising me, with a sly smile as she raised eyebrows. 

“I know that look,” she said, shaking her head. “You like him, don’t you?”

 

I shook my head and she sighed. 

Well, not exactly. His name was Zubair and it was a few things that had come to my knowledge recently that had made me … understand  him a little better.

How he had gotten into trouble with his uncle. Why he had maybe resorted to what he had done. Why he needed to earn extra money in the first place, because he hadn’t finished school and his options were so limited, he just had to do all the dirty work that had got us into so much of trouble too…

 

“He’s not exactly usyaar, is he?” She said with raised eyebrows. “The complete opposite of you. Nani might have a thing to say about that.”

 

I swallowed and looked up at her.

 

Usyaar. The Gujarati equivalent of innocent and sweet-natured. Exactly what every mother-in-law was looking for in a son or daughter-in-law.

 

I knew that. And that was precisely the reason why I wouldn’t ever think of him as anything more than just an employee.

 

If only I could control my unruly heart.

 

“You got that look on your face,” she said with a cock of her head and warning glance. “Don’t get caught in that trap. Of feeling like you need to sneak around because ‘he’ is not what people expect of you…”

I blushed, even though I wasn’t guilty of being in that kind of trouble. I knew the rules. No furtive glances. No unnecessary chit-chat. No passing each other’s paths, even by ‘mistake’. 

 

My traps were only in my mind, but they were just as dangerous. As dangerous as he was, in fact. 

What I didn’t know was the Mohsina was only trying to ensure that I wouldn’t make the same mistakes that she did.

 

“I haven’t ever spoken to him,” I said, not wanting to entertain any further thoughts about the ‘he’ in question. “He keeps his distance even though he stays here.” 

 

The thing is, when we had first met him, in the coffee shop that day, we didn’t know that his mother was late and his father had kicked him out of the house after he started working for his uncle. His sister was married and in the UK for a few months… so he didn’t have much family here for support either. And that’s how he came to stay in the front house. 

 

”Papa seems to like him,” Mohsina conceded, glancing at me as she said it, rocking baby Zaid a little slower as he seemed to be nodding off. “I’m surprised.”

 

“He was the one who told Papa about his uncle and how he fooled you into paying him so much,” I said quietly, purposely changing the topic to slightly safer avenues. “I’m so sorry that you had to dig into all of your savings …”

 

I knew that Papa had finally spoken to her about it yesterday and it wasn’t until now that I felt confident to talk about it openly to her too. They had a long chat and spoke till almost midnight, before Zaid woke up bawling and Mohsina had to abandon the heart-to-heart because she was the only one who could pacify him.

What exactly they spoke about, I wasn’t sure… but from the way Mohsina seemed today, I could see that a lot of baggage was off her shoulders. She looked so much more serene.

“It’s only money,” she said quietly as she held Zaid closer to her. “And Faadil helped me. A lot. I paid him back most but there’s a little outstanding. I suppose it wasn’t the most ideal solution but one good thing is that it left less money available for all of his dodge extra-curricular activities…”

 

A slightly pained expression flashed over her face as she said it, and then she shook her head, swallowing hard as I looked at her inquiringly. 

“Activities?” I asked questioningly. 

“Just a few things I found out about him,” she said with a shrug. “A while back….”

 

I smiled sadly as she looked away, but not wanting to ask anymore questions for fear of the answers. The fact that he had given her so much of money and saved us from a horrible situation did make even me feel indebted to him too…

 

The entire thing was just messed up and it was his fault.

 

My heart sank because she spoke almost as if she liked him, yet my sister was way too good for that self-obsessed twit. What she even saw in him, I had no idea…

 

Mohsina turned to me, her hands tightly wrapped around baby Zaid as she stopped rocking him, a serene smile on her face as she glanced at me victoriously and finally bent to lay him down. 

 

My heart contracted slightly as I could picture Layyanah doing this umpteen times before, biting back tears as I watched as she placed him down in the little cot she had bought from the baby shop yesterday.

I smiled amidst the grief, a little in awe of how Mohsina herself had done this whole new transition. Something in her had shifted.

 

And though I expected Mohsina to be all possessive and impossible, she was actually being pretty level-headed in her approach… and though I could see that it was stressing her out, she had really taken it in her stride. 

 

Well, until now, when she looked at the time and did a double take. 

“Oh my word, I didn’t realise the time!” she squealed, widening her eyes and looking panicked as she realised that she had half an hour till they were scheduled to come.

It was actually what I had come to tell her before I had seen her in her maternal glory and got completely distracted. 

 

“I still have to get dressed and read my Salaah! Jamz, please stick around here and tap him back if he starts to move. Or just call Nani. At least it will stop her from frying any samoosas…”

 

And with that, in true crazy-mum style, my sister had already zoomed off to shower and I hovered around and watched the little sleeping sweetheart, wondering how such a tiny human could bring about such a huge change in so many people’s lives.

 

Change, huh? I never thought I’d see it. Till that point, to be honest, I had really given up on my sister. Despite knowing that I should never give up on anyone… I had shelved the idea of ever trying to see eye-to-eye with her until now. 

Instead of the superficial and selfish sister I had been accustomed to the past few months, and amazing, selfless and maternal side of her was make its way to the shore and it gave me goosebumps to see the potential she had.

 

I was so, so proud of her, for putting this above everything, and not just fitting it in like I thought she would. 

 

After the strange behavior she had exhibited over the past few months, pushing us away and distancing herself further and further… somehow, it was like something had clicked into place when she had lost Layyanah. The arrogance she had previously displayed was no longer a part of her. Instead, there was a simmered down, completely contented version of herself that had come to the fore once this new situation had become apparent.

 

And I didn’t even think of her last words to me as I got busy with Zaid and my babysitting duty. I wasn’t even sure how time ran away with me, because the next thing I knew, car doors were slamming outside and Mohsina was sprinting out of the bathroom, scrounging around in my cupboards for something decent to put on.

 

I couldn’t imagine how she must have been feeling at that point, if I was stuck in my own kind of frenzy about what the outcome of this entire meeting was going to be.

 

No matter what she said or how tough Mos acted… It was obvious that this was important. What was happening right now meant a lot to her. Not only was she dealing with someone who was once quite important to her, but all over again, for other unprecedented reasons, she had to make a good impression and build their trust once again and this was a meeting that would hold so much of weight.

 

And of course, it was precisely at that time when Zaid decided he was hungry again and started bawling his head off. Mohsina was yelling at me to take him when I pulled open the room door to head downstairs and be my best version of politeness, when I caught the whiff of freshly fried samoosas in the air. From Mohsina’s unimpressed expression, I knew she did too. 

 

I also knew that she was probably going to kill me for letting it happen but the truth was that when Nani was set on something, especially when it came to samoosas, there wasn’t much else anyone could say to stop her. 

What we didn’t know was that this whole Samoosa Saga was probably going to bring about a lot more than anticipated.

 

Sometimes, changes are gradual. Steady, slow and easy, sometimes the changes give us time to be accustomed to them and give us some sort of warning.

 

Sometimes the changes need to be within us, and we have to work on our inner selves. Sometimes the changes start directly from our filthy hearts, so we can finally see Allah Ta’alas magic in everything once again. 

 

And yes, we were all waiting for Ramadhan that year, to bring its peace and comfort, but what we didn’t know was that our entire world was already starting to transform before that.

See once in a while, with the realisation of life and death, when the hearts are altered and our souls have been moved through the beautiful sustenance of worship, it’s like the ground beneath has shifted. You see things with a new eyes. It’s like your whole world has changed, and things will never be the same again 

 

See once in a while, once in a blue moon, people can surprise you.

 

And once and a while, the ones you least expect, they may even take your breath away…

 

 

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Assalamualaikum 

 

Dearest Readers 

 

I sincerely hope that everyone had a beautiful Ramadhaan. May Allah accept all our efforts, and grant us istiqaamat. It’s quite a transition, getting back to the old routine.

Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) said: “The most beloved of deeds are those that are performed consistently even though they may be little.”

 

May Allah guide us to maintain our efforts. 

May it be a means of change, not only for now, but also a means of us continuously improving.

One sign of acceptance is to be able to maintain our efforts and do more. InshaAllah. 

Mission Sunnah Revival will continue- let’s try and bring all the past ones back into practise InshaAllah, especially trying to stay off social media and guard our gazes…

 

Please do remember me in your duaas

Much love 

 

A x

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