Shattering Secrets

Bismihi Taala

Mohsina

Part 85

Leaving is hard. Losing is harder.

I once heard someone say that the very same worldly attribute that causes us pain is also what gives us relief: Nothing here lasts.

And while I found myself at war with my heart, I knew that I couldn’t give in, just because it said so. Just like the feeling of being hopelessly in love didn’t last, so too, the feeling of pain and agony also won’t last.

The thing is, we all make mistakes. Yes, we all  need to restart, sometimes over and over again, only to lose ourselves once again. Yes, there are days when we feel consumed by the world and it weighs heavy on our shoulders. There are times when we forget that this life is temporary and fleeting and insignificant in comparison to the next life. Yes, there are days when we feel so distant from Allah. Days when we don’t raise our hands to Him, days when we are ungrateful and thankless and days when we are an embarrassingly bad version of us, that even we can’t quite come to terms with…

But for all those times that we are heedless and complacent and broken by the world, by Allah, we are never forgotten, and Allah always has our back; in whatever means or form He provides.

For me…. there was Hamzah… who was my personal spiritual booster, who was trying his utmost to pull me out of the hole I had crept into and keep me floating.

And it was working. Somehow. It was working.

After Hamzah’s little stint, I couldn’t help but feel all my barriers collapse with no resolve. It was like his sincerity had crept right into the midst of my soul, but yet, when I agreed to his request, I couldn’t help but feel like I was being a little too hopeful that after all this, Hamzah would still want me back.

Though my stance was still neutral and distant, I had a feeling that brick by brick, the wall was coming down, and I didn’t even want to hold it up anymore.

The truth was, I loved this guy. I didn’t want to lose him, and when he dished out words that made me feel so much more, I couldn’t help but cave.

We drove in semi-silence after I had dissolved in his arms, and then quickly recovered, vowing to keep up the facade that I felt nothing for him anymore. The way Hamzah drove, as if he knew what exactly where he was going, made me a feel a little nervous. I didn’t want to get all flustered and overwhelmed by emotion again. I had calmed down, but Hamzah’s request to me still hung over my head like a cloud above my head.

His free hand rested in the middle of us, waiting for me to tangle my fingers with his in a silent truce. But I couldn’t do it.

I knew what he was silently saying. It was time to let this be. To love him unreservedly. To stop holding back just on the off-chance that everything was meant to be perfect.

And though I would never admit it, it felt like my heart had been shifted. I wasn’t even sure what had happened after being at Hamzah’s Madrassa but I knew that Qur’ān had amazing effects. I had once heard that Qur’ān is the cure to any problem and will do miracles to hearts. I honestly felt like my heart had undergone some kind of miracle. I felt like it had been deep cleansed and flushed out, and now all I saw was positivity and everything good that could be.

“Are you ready for our next stop?” Hamzah said quietly, his gaze not leaving the road as he spoke.

I avoided his eyes too as he pulled off the main road, onto a smaller road that took us another minute of driving, the blue skies even more glorious as we got closer to the coast.

The car served slightly to the right as the shoreline came into view, and catching sight of the deepest blue waters contrasting against the light blue of the sky, the beauty of it made me gasp in absolute wonder.

Now, I know that I hadn’t exactly been to Maldives yet, but I knew for sure that there weren’t many places in the world that had such amazingly blue waters. I watched in awe as Hamzah drive along the coastal route, amazed that there was such a stunning view from where we were. The sea seemed so vast and glorious as I watched it, waves crashing along with such ferocity that it made you wonder about the Creator of that kind of power. There was just something about having an ocean view that gave you a soothing within your soul.

The scene was a picture perfect kind. Mountains in the distance. Driving into the horizon, or breaking into the jaw-dropping sunsets. No visible limits to where the oceans ended.

I knew Hamzah had a special affinity to this place where the land met the seas, and this was where he found his base, got his focus and explored his true ambition.

My eyes were fixated on the beauty before me until we pullled off the road and Hamzah killed the engine, and I couldn’t help but feel myself flush under his intense gaze. While I watched the amazing view, Hamzah was gauging my reaction with a certain interest that made me shift under his scrutiny.

“Stop,” I said, shifting uncomfortably as I glanced at him again. “You’re making me nervous.”

He had this disturbing smile on his face, as if he knew was more than he let on, and how his stance remained so positive and unnerving was beyond me. I wished that I could somehow distract him, but before I could think of something, he had pushed open the door and stepped out into the openness, pulling off his kurta as he did so, almost as if he was getting ready for a swim.

I honestly wondered if he was going to take a dip in the waters, and while I was contemplating on whether to reprimand him for his crazy behaviour or not, before I knew it, the passenger door was open and Hamzah was next to me, with an expectant smile on his face.

”You don’t expect to sit in the car with such a beautiful view ahead of you, do you?”

Before I could even begin to argue, he had already extended his arm to lift me out the car, and I could feel my resolve weakening each moment as he did so. And I was already bought by this place that Hamzah loved. The salty air. The view of limitless beauty. The feel of the wind through my scarf was simply gorgeous.

I trudged forward as he pulled me along, not giving me any choice but to enjoy his proximity and the feeling of my hand in his as he edged me along silently.

Hamzah just had a way to snap me out of my stupor, and I knew that I had no chance when it came to him. I never quite admitted if before, but now, I understood how Allah Ta’ala compliments people through their other halves. For me, he was the type of personality who balanced all my inadequacies. While I lay low, Hamzah coaxed my inner adventurer. While I usually preferred isolation, Hamzah pushed me to interact. He was the icing on my cupcake. He brought out the best of me, and when I recalled Layy once saying that he filled in all my blanks, I now understood exactly what she meant.

Hamzah was like a uncontained proton. With him around, life just felt so… charged.

We paused as he stopped to pull off his shoes and socks, me hoping that he wouldn’t pull any drastic moves or throw me in, quickly acceding to his request for me to pull out my own shoes as I stepped onto the sandy part of the beach, enjoying the peace and quiet that existed there. It was very much deserted, but still a sight to behold, as we stood there, hands together, just taking in this moment as the splendour of sky meeting the seas spread before us. It was like it was lit up in some kind of brightly kindled fire as the day was coming to a close, and the sight literally took my breath away.

”Are you reading more Qur’ān for me?” I breathed, my voice hopeful as it cut through the air, and Hamzah turned to look at me.

Him reciting to me was something that made me ache for more. It had brought a sense of tranquility and clarity… a state of mind that I hadn’t had in way too long, but ached to attain once again. Not only had he recited, but the deep knowledge of the Qur’ān he had, about the verses where Allah tells us we will be tested, and our ability to be patient is something that is inherent. Somehow, Allah puts that patience in our hearts and enables us through understanding.

And We will surely test you with something of fear and hunger and a loss of wealth and lives and fruits, but give good tidings to the patient, (Surah 2:155)

It had given me an insight, and a small hope that was at the back of my mind, waiting to be rekindled.

”That’s for special occasions,” he murmured with a slight grin before pulling out a tasbeeh counter from his pocket and handing it to me.

“But when we say SubhanAllah, and that can sometimes feel like we are the kings of the world,” he continued with a one dimpled smile, while I took his counter.

It was one of those larger new ones, black with a pretty pattern, and I kept it in my forefinger as I took his advice and mouthed the words, praising Allah for everything He had so graciously blessed me with.

Just being there, knowing that Hamzah had faith in me… in us… gave me a most amazing sense of renewed hope… and reciting SubhaanAllah made me feel like I was touching base again.

Connecting with my surroundings. Acknowledging that all glory before me, from the bluest waters to the foamy seas, and everything that my eyes feasted on, was only due to the One who Created.

We had moved along to the edge of the seas now, stopping just before the colours of the sand got darker with moistureit, and I couldn’t help but halt to immediately plop myself down on the sand, digging my toes in, thinking about when the last time was that I had enjoyed sitting on the open beach like this.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly, his hand holding the top of my knee while he stopped my foot from wriggling. “You’re hiding your toes.”

I couldn’t help but feel my cheeks heat up, although I barely got frazzled, remembering the first time we had been at a beach together, and recalling how toe obsessed I was. For some reason, right then, the picture gamer, instagram obsessed version of me felt so far away.

It was all purely coincidental that we had ended up being each others company that morning, and even though we were wrong to be so freely mixing, it made me appreciate that we knew so much better now.

“Do you remember the time we were at a beach in the days of Jahelia?” His voice broke out, almost reading my thoughts as he stuffed his hands into his jacket pocket, and sat down next to me.

I grinned and nodded regretfully at his reference to those days when work took preference over everything and Liyaket and Layyanah were still in their romancing phase.

“Do you know how I loathed you?” I said with narrowed eyes, remembering how he used to annoy me about my social media apps.

“Ditto,” he said quietly with a wink. “But after that, something changed. And I felt like irritating you even more. Every day. Till forever.”

I shook my head at him. He was such a kid. Like the old boy likes girl and makes fun at her story.  He acted as if we were in primary school.

“I think I was in denial,” he said softly, and I looked at him with my eyebrows raised.

Ahem. What?

”But why,” I said, not understanding why he would even like the instagram obsessed @mostlymohsina who barely gave time of day to anyone else but her feed.

He grinned as I looked at him, his brown eyes avoiding mine as I wondered if he was going to backtrack on his words.

But no. Hamzah was going for the kill today.

“You were the only girl who had game,” he said with a shrug, as if it was obvious. “And you know why? Girls think that being open and approachable makes them a better catch. But you… Mos, you were hard on yourself in ways you didn’t know. Ways that made you stand out.  You didn’t give a crap about what anyone thought about your hijab. You didn’t entertain the guys or any of the mundane chit chat. Even on the trips… You were always careful about what you ate and how you behaved. You know what I was like. Liyaket would call me out for my ways all the time.”

I snorted, remembering how he was once in a disciplinary hearing for something that had happened with some office girl in the archives room.

I could see the embarrassment on his face as I almost laughed at the recollection.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said cheekily. “I know I was a rotter. And you were like one of those girls who were out of my league and unattainable… until I spoke to you and realised that maybe you were exactly what I needed to keep me grounded. And then, next I knew, there was Liyaket to tell me that he was certain that you were the right girl for me, and I knew I was a goner.”

I shook my head, thinking that hilarious because I had gone so haraami and off track afterwards with all my that he should probably take those words back. And it was so ironic because I felt that he was the one who had gone all Maulana-type and became out of reach for me.

Anyhoo, then the unmentioned stuff happened and we were both stuck in a space where none of us could understand what the other was even thinking…

If only we had known all the things that we hid so well from each other, because we felt too vulnerable to say, but I knew it didn’t matter now because Allah knew where our paths would take us, and I knew now for sure that there was a reason for this.

Even right now, everything that’s happened.. I knew that there was no way that I could deny that some goodness was going to come out of it. I just knew that I had to stick this out and hope that it would come through sooner rather than later.

But in the meantime, I couldn’t help but feel that hole in my gut as I looked at my husband, the mention of the past now bringing hope in his eyes, as I took a deep breath and turned my gaze away to the spectacular seas.

Today, they were steady and relaxed, and my heart immediately felt contented as I watched the ebb and flow of the tide, the sound of swishing waters soothing my soul beautifully.

But all this soothing was making me relax too much, when I shouldn’t be.

“What if you’re making a mistake,” I said to him suddenly, my mind on our conversation back at the madrassa, turning my face to watch his expression change, knowing that he was going to regret putting so much effort into this when it was already doomed to fail. “By having so much of faith in me. You’ve got way too much of hope. It’s not fair on you.”

“It’s not fair on either of us,” he said, his fingers twiddling with each other as I watched him, sitting with his knees up. “And it’s not silly or naive either. It’s because even in the darkness, I see that my Rabb is greater than everything else. Watching this… the sky and the earth holding hands on the horizon… well… doesn’t it fill you with hope?”

The sight ahead felt like stab of love, a blaze of color – oranges, pearly pinks, vibrant purples spread before us, almost like the blended colors of love. I was mesmerised for a second, not realising how quickly the sky had morphed into such glory, taking in every fiery red, bold orange and carnivorous yellow as we watched horizon spread out before us from the sea sand. As I did so, I couldn’t help but feel my soul lighten. My heart was opening in a way it hadn’t before. The sight of that, contrasting with the blissfully blue waters that calmed my soul, was what gifted me with something that I hadn’t realised was creeping up on me, and that’s when I understood what Hamzah had said.

Hope. We find it even in the most unexpected places, and I hadn’t felt it more than I felt it right then, and I wanted to take that moment and pocket it so I could keep it close to my heart forever.

I wanted to remember the moment that things had shifted.

I didn’t need to ask him why anymore. I knew why he had brought me here. It was the beauty of Allahs creation- scenic and gorgeous and I wished that we could stay there, in our happy bubble forever, although I knew that reality was only a road trip away.

And when he said it, I knew exactly what he meant.

“Hope, my love,” he whispered softly, his face next to mine as he spoke close to my ear. “Is never a mistake.”

My tummy flipped as he said it, making me wonder how he still did that to me, even after all this time and the fact that this was supposed to be some kind of farewell journey.

And it made my heart ache. This has been so hard. And I was spent. I had sobbed and cried, I had prayed and tried to come to terms with how I felt, but it felt like I was still where I began…. Still hurting. Still nursing the heart aches. Still trying to pull myself out of the hole of misery I had sunk into.

I was tired of fighting. Tired of having nothing to hold onto… and I couldn’t help but wonder… what if?

So what if I said I’ll come back to him? So what if I put my own fears aside, and let myself believe that this man wanted me more than all my flaws? So what if I gave in and stopped steeling my heart, so that to I could actually feel something for once? So what.

All this had done was reinforce to me that everything he meant was for real and I knew that sooner or later, I’d have no more excuses.

I sighed as he took my hand in his, and wordlessly, he looked up at me, and then at the skies, almost as if he was still awaiting that answer, and the sight before us was just what he needed to get it.

I didn’t want to read what was in his eyes as we got up and started walking back to the car, but his eyes held the message that I couldn’t deny.

If the sun and the sky can meet on the horizon, then so can we.

Of course we could. No matter how long it took. No matter how much was lost in between. At some stage, I would return to him and I know that I would still have as much love as I had for him right then.

”I’ll come back to you,” I said softly, after a few steps, my voice barely audible as I said it, feeling as if my heart would burst from the emotion it brought.

I could already feel the shift in the air as he processed it, and without even a seconds warning, strong arms literally lifted me off the ground and twirled me around, and the only thing I could do was hold onto Hamzah and giggle as his head nuzzled against my neck and he put me down, his breathing emphatic from all that weight lifting he had done a few seconds before.

“I love you, Mos,” he said into my ear, his voice sounding like he couldn’t quite believe what I’d just told him, assuring me that whatever was in store, it will always be me. And just like that, every barrier was broken down as we walked, hand in hand to the car, feeling emotionally exhausted with everything that had happened that day.

Salaah was glorious, under the open skies, with the sound of crashing waves, and I revelled in the feeling before crawling back into the car and smiling sleepily at Hamzah as he started his car.

I knew that I had plenty of messages, from Sawleha and Maahira in particular, but I barely had a chance to catch up with them before my eyelids felt heavy, and with the soothing feel of the car and of everything between us finally settled, sleep overcame me sooner than I thought.

We knew that we would reach late but I was still hoping that we would make it back home to fetch Zaid for the night.

And I barely expected to be so tired, to fall into such a deep sleep, but the next thing I knew,  Hamzah was stroking my arm lightly in an effort to wake me as we entered our apartment block. I felt drained. Almost as if I had been out hiking the entire day, when in actuality, we’d done no real physical activity. I yawned as I looked at my husband, concentrating as he reversed into his parking; remembering that we hadn’t fetched Zaid.

“Where’s my baby?” I asked softly, stifling another yawn.

”Imraan said he will bring him,” he said, switching off the car power. “I think he’s giving Saaliha a hard time to sleep and she wasn’t feeling too great either?”

I sat up, suddenly wide awake.

“What happened?” I asked, already concerned for her wellbeing. “Is she okay?”

Hamzah lifted a shoulder up noncommittally.

“Don’t know,” he said, but I didn’t miss the flicker of concern in his eyes. “He didn’t say. But he’s already left.”

I nodded and opened the car door, stepping out tentatively as I grabbed my bag and the stuff Hamzah had packed to keep us nourished. I was actually starving, and I wondered if I had enough cheese in the fridge to whip up a cheese and tomato sandwich. I usually didn’t enjoy tomatoes in cheese but for some reason, I was completely bought today.

Hamzah had already got into the lift, and I stood next to him as he smiled at me, enjoying the calmness of that moment, where we both understood what it was that we needed to do from here. Even though things may not be perfect, the understanding that we had was something that I knew was only possible because of Hamzah’s insistence to spend this day together.

I couldn’t help but think of how lucky I was to have him, rooting for us the way he did. We had already reached our floor, and as he gestured for me to walk, I fell into step with him as we went toward our home together, talking softly as we passed the neighbours flat, enjoying the ease that we could deal with each other right then.

And I wished I hadn’t done what I did. I wished I hadn’t stopped so that he could walk with me. I wished that I’d gone first, so that when I reached the end of the passage where our door was, I would have been the one to see the box that sat on our step, so I could take it and keep it away, as far as I ever could. I wished that I had been the one to open it and scrutinise its contents before it came to rock our world.

But of course, it didn’t happen that way.

“Hey,” Hamzah smiled, a comical expression on his face as he spotted it. “Someone left us a gift. Bit late for housewarming though.”

My eyes zoned onto the parcel, realising that it was a gift of some sort, but not quite processing the name of the shop that was on the bag. Some jewellery shop in Sandton. People get fancy sometimes.

“Oh,” I said half-heartedly, watching him put down the cooler bag he had with him and picking up the packet. “That’s nice of them.”

It took a few seconds before he opened the packet and took out a box, and I couldn’t help but feel an icky sensation creep over me as I realised that it looked nothing like how a housewarming gift should look. I was a small, long box, with a ribbon around it, and as he pulled it out, and opened it, a little note stuck out of it, that he promptly caught just before his eyes widened at the contents of the actual box.

It took him a few seconds before there was any reaction. It felt like time was frozen for a few seconds as I watched him switch gazes from the now opened note, to the contents of the box, and as I realised exactly what was in the box, my heart did this thing where it felt like it was going to shatter into millions of tiny pieces, just glimpsing the haunted expression on his face.

It was the necklace. The eternal flame necklace, with its one carat diamond, in all its loathsome glory, staring up at me in traitorous glee as I gathered the wits to look up at him once again.

His enraged expression was all it took for me to notice the note still in his hand, and immediately, as I took it from him and read it, I knew that there was something disturbingly coincidental about the way this had all panned out, right then.

I also knew that this was something that I would need an immense amount of intervention to fix, if I ever could.

Hot tears welled up in my eyes as I read it, once again, knowing that there was no way I could ever explain my way out of this one.

I meant to return this to you when I saw you the day of your wedding. It will always belong with you. 

Faadil 

---

Mission Sunnah Revival: Thinking well of others 

Especially as these blessed months dawn upon us, we make extra effort to think good of others and make excuses for them. It’s easier said than done but we make Duaa that in this way, people will also think well of us.

Nabi Muhammad (Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam) said, “Beware of suspicion, for suspicion is the worst of false tales; and do not look for the others’ faults and do not spy, and do not be jealous of one another, and do not desert (cut your relation with) one another, and do not hate one another; and O Allah’s worshipers! Be brothers (as Allah has ordered you!”) (Bukhari)

To put it briefly, having good opinion of people implies:

• Thinking positive of others
• Avoiding suspicion and wrong assumptions of others
• Giving others the benefit of the doubt

Sunnah of the month of Rajab 

Sayyiduna Anas Ibn Malik (radiyallahu’anhu) reports that Rasulullah (sallallahu ‘alayhi wa sallam) would recite the following supplication when the Month of Rajab would commence:

اَللّٰهُمَّ  بَارِكْ لَناَ فِيْ رَجَبٍ وَشَعْبانَ وَبَلّغْنَا رَمَضَانْ

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

Translation: Oh Allah! Grant us Barakah (Blessing) during (the months of) Rajab and Sha’ban, and allow us to reach Ramadan.

(Shu’abul-Iman, Hadith: 3534, Ibnu Sunni, Hadith: 660, Mukhtasar Zawaid Bazzar, Hadith: 662, also see Al-Adhkar, Hadith: 549)

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

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When Hope is Hidden

Bismihi Ta’ala

Jameela

Part 66

Sometimes you just have to be kind.

Treat people the way you want to be treated. Be good to even the nasty people. If serving people is below you, leadership is beyond you.

And honestly speaking, service wasn’t exactly my forté. I would rather be in out in the wilderness, breeze caressing my skin, blinking beneath the cherry blossom trees and basking in the glorious sunshine, than stuck serving stuck-up corporates in a coffee shop.

But such was life at times. Sometimes we just humble ourselves, even when it’s hard.

The thing is, there were just a few valuable lessons I was learning from not being my usual lazy self.

Some people are never happy, no matter what. Some people are grateful, no matter what. There’s no feeling quite like making a someone’s day. Oh, and comfortable work shoes are worth their weight in gold.

“One latte. One carrot muffin. I’m in a hurry.”

I’ve messed up two macchiatos and spilled an entire litre of hazelnut syrup on the ground. The outdoors is looking like an awesome, unfiltered escape and the coffee machine was being an absolute horror this morning. I really could do without the added pressure that this man was persisting on giving me as he watched me nervously fiddle with the gadgets, and looked at his chunky watch again.

“I’m sorry, I’m just…”

It’s already been a few minutes since I swiped his card and I can see his patience dwindling.

Today is definitely not my day. For some reason, I can’t do a single task without messing something up.

He didn’t like to leave me here, but Zubair was apparently gone out for some emergency and Papa said he had some errands to do too. All I knew was that Papa had predicted it to be a pretty uneventful morning but as predictions go, it was anything but.

I filled his coffee just as there is a noise from the back, the sound making me stumble slightly, hoping that Papa had arrived. Before I can turn my head, my foot slips on the little residues of hazelnut sauce from earlier causing me to tip backward, the burn from the sloshing coffee scalding my skin.

In the rush, I had just spilled whatever little coffee I had managed to get out onto my dress.

“Is there anyone here who’s competent enough to get me my order?”

The guy’s haughty tone is unnerving and the sting from the coffee mixes with the tears collecting behind my lids.

What do I tell him? I can’t figure out the machine? Why did it choose now to act up? Of all times.

Why was I so useless? Give me a book under the flawless blue skies and I would sit and read it till night falls, but when asked to do something productive- I was utterly  unproductive.

Everything was going wrong.

“Am I going to get some service today?” He asked, now full on irritated as I pressed another button, water from the machine splurging out, looking up from his device as he watched  the progress with his order.

I hated dealing with male customers, especially these type. The rude type. It wasn’t very often, especially during the day, but well… wasn’t today just my lucky day?

I swallowed back my emotion and pushed up my chin. Customer service. I had to numb my emotions.

“I’m so sorry about that. I’ll make you another one, on the house.”

His lips are pursed together as he glares at me.

“I already paid. Just make the damn drink!”

I flushed. I feel like making the drink and throwing it in his face. But of course I couldn’t.

“I’ll take over,” a deep voice says from behind me, and my body freezes, wet coffee-soaked dress sticking to me as I tried to hide it with my scarf, but I knew it was no use.

I couldn’t help but spin around, watching him avert his gaze as he moved forward gracefully, pulling out another cup as I had no choice but to move aside. His unusually coloured eyes were scanning the machine and expertly I looked away as he tapped something and did some magic with it.

He was wearing his Friday attire, kurta and hat, as if he had just come in, and not the usual uniform I saw him in. Catching a glimpse of the  tasbeeh counter he had just released from his hand that was already showing quadruple digits, and I felt a stab of envy as I realised that I was still sitting in the three hundreds for my Friday Durood counter. Perhaps he went somewhere far? 

I had no idea where he was but he had probably saw the customers car from outside and thought that no-one would be helping him. Except I was. It’s just that I wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

The angry customer scoffed, his gaudy watch counting the seconds.

“I just thought I’d be able to get a cup of coffee without it becoming some kind of circus performance.”

I could see Zubairs jaw tightening as he said it, effortlessly pressing in the tray that wasn’t clicking earlier and watching the steaming water with milk shoot out through the spout.

I moved along near the till to pack the muffin, careful to use the tongs carefully before he gave me scores about that.

”Sir, I’m so sorry about -“ I started, as I placed the muffin on the counter.

”It’s ready,” Zubair cut in abruptly, and I swore I could see him shoot me a glance of annoyance as he passed the cup over, and I hurried to grab a serviette from underneath the counter, packing the muffin into an eco-packet, always aiming to please.

The customer is always right.

And though ‘customers’ can be very difficult and might not respond to you in the way you expect, despite your good attitude, customer service is never about the results or the sales. It was hard being on this side of the counter. Customer service is about the experience you create when that person is with you.

But I tried to keep in mind that every time you meet somebody, you’re selling them yourself – your image, your personality, your goals, your personal brand but most importantly … you’re also selling Deen. You are in a mode of exchange with that person through every interaction.

I just wished that people could treat others, especially in the service industry, with a little more dignity. Sometimes a simple hello and thank you can go a long, long way. Sometimes a little overlooking can also be a saving grace.

Character was gold. Whether the customer or the person who is serving, I do feel like whichever position you find yourselves in… you had to just turn it around to your benefit. It was easy to be good to people who were good to you. But people who tested your patience and gave you uphill were the greatest test. It’s just that even with that, there is a limit to what I could take.

I had to keep telling myself that.

”Thanks,” the guy said to Zubair, not even sparing me a glance as he picked up his wallet from the counter. “Next time I’ll just ask for you.”

“Next time, try and be more polite to the lady,” Zubair said back, without missing a beat, and my eyes widened involuntarily as I wondered if I had really just heard him say that.

He was looking the customer squarely in the face with a fierce look as he said it, and I could see the customers eyes flashing angrily at me before he spun around and walked out.

I took a few steps backward as I watched Zubair’s entire posture morph, almost as as if he had just put on one persona, and was slowly gearing himself to go back to the usual.

I was shocked. And I didn’t even know why I was still even standing there. That was completely unexpected.

I never thought I’d see this side of him. In fact, I didn’t even know that this side of him existed. Up until now, he had been so… passive.

Conservative. Polite. Ihsaan kind of character.

Never had I heard Papa ever mention once about Zubair even raising his voice to a single person. This was completely out of character for him, and as I took a few steps backward to escape to where the single helper was working in the back, I couldn’t help but remember what I had found in that room two weeks ago.

Perhaps now that I knew… and he knew that I knew… he didn’t have to pretend. Maybe this was the real him. Maybe he was a violent and dangerous mafia killer who lost his mind and went off in a tangent. If maybe it was just certain things that ticked him off…

I felt like asking him how and when and why, but of course I couldn’t. I couldn’t get into the nitty gritty of these things. They would just bring up more uncomfortable topics that’s I wasn’t ready to delve into. It was an opening that would lead to other sins, and I was wiser than that. I couldn’t risk more.

I shook my head at my own craziness as I grabbed my phone from next to the till, trying to dispel all the weird thoughts as I glanced to the front to see Zubair was gone, probably to change, but knowing that he would be back soon to take over.

Mohsina had been messaging me from the morning, with something about Hamzah and his strange behaviour.

He had disappeared early that morning and Mohsina couldn’t reach him. She was going crazy with worry, and though I felt for my sister, I honestly didn’t know what to tell her. Hamzah and her had way too many secrets and I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to know them all.

He’s not at work.

It was her latest message, she had sent before the rude man walked in. I tapped quickly, wanting to know if she phoned the office.

Are you sure?

Her reply was quick.

I called. They said he didn’t come in today. He’s hiding something, Jamz. You think it’s someone else? Someone from his past?

I sighed. Of all things.

Hamzah won’t do that. Maybe it’s something else. A family matter? Something to do with Liyakets estate?

Her reply didn’t come fast enough. It was at least a few minutes before she  finally messaged to say:

He just got home. Rabia is with him. Wish me luck.

I instantly wondered if that was the case, why he was being so secretive. Could he have just gone to fetch Rabia?

It was weird… this whole thing that was happening. There was Zubair and his big secret, that I could tell no one because there really was no way that I could tell anyone that Papa’s favourite worker is an arms dealer or mafia member.

Plus, I had no proof. And then there was Hamzah, who had his own secrets and was also somewhere from the morning.

The message from Mohsina came through and I found myself looking at the time.

Hmmm, interesting.

Was it just a coincidence that both of them were gone at the same odd times? Zubair usually never left in the week. Hamzah too.

It was exactly 20 minutes ago that Zubair had arrived to save the day and that was the time it took to get the Mohsina’s new place in the North.

Were they perhaps together? I wasn’t even sure if they spoke but I had an idea that they did cross paths on the farm a few times. Hamzah was always outside and Zubair didn’t really have many places to go.

I wasn’t sure if I should tell Mohsina. What I did know was that she may just hyperventilate and then we would have more problems. Where my sister and her marriage was concerned, I rather just keep quiet and mind my own business. What I did want to desperately find out was if they were together.

And as I walked along the rose bushes, drying my dampened dress, breathing in the scent of outdoors as my mind cleared slightly, I couldn’t help but set my phone aside and let my roses distract me for a while. The afternoon sun was blazing down on my covered head and I didn’t even have a hat on, but I didn’t care. I was in my element right then and that’s all that mattered.

“Hey you,” a familiar voice had called behind me, a baby perched on her hip as she smiled. “I can feel the nature vibes bouncing off you. Thought I’d find you here.

I plunged my garden fork into the ground and slowly got up, dusting my hands off onto my baggy jeans as I smiled at the little munchkin in Nusaybah’s arms. She was a few months older than Zaid and she was super adorable, with these fat cheeks and black locks.

“I had to ask Zubz where the roses were and there you are, looking as stunning as they are this spring…”

She grinned as I had blushed, well… as red as I could go, given that my skin resembled a slightly coppery colour due to all those hours in the sun. Almost like that burnt peach rose. I was actually glad that my skin burned painlessly, unlike my sister, who would peel at the slightest touch of sunlight.

Nusaybah smelt of lavender and fabric softener as I leaned in for an hug, and I couldn’t help but hug her a little tighter before she leaned back again. She had become something of a sister to me too.

”You’re embarrassing me,” I moaned with a smile, shaking my head at her and taking the baby from her. “Why don’t you come in for some tea?”

And though I didn’t know much about Zubair and his past, I did know a few things about the present. Like with his sister leaving back for London this week, it was highly probable that she was the only other person that he would have been with this morning. Maybe I could somehow find out if they were together.

It was amazing spending time with her and her dolly when she was around. She was such a natural and easy-going person to be around.

Nusaybah’s husband was here trying to get a medical post in one of the nearby hospitals and assumed that it may be good to spend a few years closer to their family here. It was just proving to be more difficult than they thought. Going back to London was a temporary fix. From what Nusaybah had said, she really wanted to be close to family, especially with her little one growing so fast.

“I would have loved to but I cannot even spare a  minute,” she said emphatically, answering my request and shaking her head. “I literally just came to see Zubair because he wasn’t around this morning and I needed to speak to him about my grandfather’s condition.”

“Ah okay,” I said softly, hoping it wasn’t too bad.

Also, that meant that Zubair wasn’t with her this morning. So who was he with? 

“I promise I’ll stay longer one day,” she said sincerely. “ I have to meet your mother properly as well… you have no idea how grateful I am that my brother is here with such an amazing family and so much of stability. You don’t know what it means to me.”

Time and time again, this girl just got me.

She was grateful? Without Zubair, Papa would be so lost and unfocused. Even though we had a few workers, it was them who breathed life into the walls of our home and business and kept the momentum going.

And though we sometimes took our extra help for granted, sometimes we genuinely disregard the amount of time they actually put into giving us the best of themselves. They sacrifice family, sleep, even their comfort in many cases, just to make sure that things run smoothly in our homes and businesses.

Now and then, a simple smile, greeting or just a thank you was something that wouldn’t hurt us to give them. The thing is, we will be accountable for how we treat the employees who work for us.

Plus, the value of trustworthiness was something that was invaluable.

It made me think of the Sahaba, and in particular, Abu Dharr Ghifari (RA) who was known for being one of the most trusted and honest Sahaba.

After the light of Islam found its way to his heart, our Prophet Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam asked him, ‘Where are you from, my Arab brother?’

Abu Dharr (RA) answered, ‘From Ghifar.’

A broad smile appeared on the Prophet’s lips SAW and his face was filled with wonder and astonishment.

However, Abu Dharr (RA) was also smiling, for he knew well that the reason behind the Prophet’s (Sallahu Alaihi wa Salam) astonishment was because the man who had just embraced Islam in front of him was from Ghifar. Ghifar was a tribe with a notorious reputation for highway robbery. Its people were famous for theft and were known as allies of darkness and night.

But as time went on, Abu Dharr’s (RA) reward was going to be abundant and his greeting blessed. He was known to have attained the highest, most honourable, and most respectable medals. Generations and centuries will pass away, but the Prophet’s opinion about Abu Dharr will always stay alive in people’s memory: ‘The earth never carried above it, nor did the sky ever shade under it a more truthful tongue than Abu Dharr’s’.

SubhaanAllah. There was no way to even honour such rare character.

“My father treasures your brother,” I said softly, shaking my head. “We should be thanking you.”

She had briefly mentioned that Zubair and his uncle had been close for a few years before the huge fall out happened just before he came to work for Papa. She had mentioned that her brother was pretty capable of looking after himself and kept apologising for the inconvenience, which I didn’t even understand. For Papa, Zubair helped us out so much that he actually felt indebted to him.

”No ways, it’s his job and he needs to keep it,” she insisted, taking a seat on the bench as her daughter started playing with my garden set.
A familiar feeling of despair arose in my gut as I wondered how on earth I could ever do anything to sabotage his job? Nusaybah was so grateful. I sighed softly and looked back at her, seeing a small smile on her face.

I switched off my thoughts to watch her daughter, finding it so cute that there was no way you could keep the garden from kids. They were just inherently magical and full of opportunity. They were drawn to it like moths to a flame.

”So, I’ve been meaning to ask… how was your weekend?”

The way she said it, with and her eyes all curious with hidden hope and her eyebrows raised, immediately got me a little suspicious. She smiled mischievously as she watched me, and I wondered how she knew. Did Zubair even know about the doctor who came to see me?

“Err,” I started, biting my lip and not wanting to say anything bad. “It was interesting…”

I could see her face transforming from excited to suspenseful and I wanted to laugh too, because somehow, the situation was just really funny.

Thinking about Muneer and his biceps were also getting me all giggly now. I’m sure Nusaybah didn’t know about that, but it really was something.

”Sorry,” she finally said, covering her mouth secretively. “I was really not supposed to say anything but I couldn’t resist. My brother will kill me if he knows that I mentioned it. I’m so sorry. I was just curious to know…”

I smiled, feeling a bit awkward that Zubair knew that I had seen someone last weekend. Actually, I shouldn’t have been surprised because Zubair was probably the one who opened for them. I’m sure Papa was the one who mentioned it and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it.

“Do you like him?”

Nusaybah’s question caught me unaware.

My heart hammered as she asked me and I couldn’t help but look away. I knew that she was asking about he doctor but here I was, thinking about her brother instead.

Astagh.

What was wrong with me?

”He was fine,” I said non-committedly, hiding my true feelings. “He seemed nice. He’s a doctor too.”

She smiled but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Since her husband was also a doctor, it seemed like she may have been slightly appeased, but not entirely.

There was something on her mind and as I looked at her… something unsaid in the way she looked at me as I answered and although I wanted to ask her, but a bellowing from across the rose bushes sounded as I whipped my head around, immediately spotting Nani at the kitchen door.

Where did Nani come from? She was supposed to be at my uncle’s this weekend. There must be a reason why she decided to crop up here unexpectedly.

And before Nusaybah could even chip in and say anything further, Nani’s stern voice was already in top form.

”Jameeela!” She screeched, in our true family-renown fish-wife style, and I grimaced as I saw the amused look on Nusaybahs face.

She obviously did not know that I had company. Or she just didn’t care.

“Come quickly. Aunty Khairoon phoned back. We have news!”

I smiled awkwardly at my new friend, nervousness creeping in as I wondered how I was going to react to Nani and what she had to say. Perhaps she had some hidden hopes of something I was oblivious to.

Was it news for her or news for me?

Great. Doctorsaab was back in the picture, and I really wondered what Nani would have to say about him…

---

Mission Sunnah Revival: 

Being able to view the lives of others as if they are our own in the main building block to social media life.

It is only human to begin to think that the lives of strangers appear to be so perfect, as opposed to reality. Little do we notice that their content is carefully crafted to do this very thing, making us discontent with our lives.

To combat this, we should look to those inferior to us, so we do not become envious and begin to realise the bounty Allah Ta’ala has gifted us with.

Keep in mind:

Abu Huraira reported: The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “Wealth is not in having many possessions. Rather, true wealth is the richness of the soul.”

Source: Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī 6446, Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim 1051

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

Springtime Secrets

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 61

Jameela

I truly believe that there’s no better place to spend the springtime than outside, with the grass beneath your toes, sun shining hot, wind blowing cold, sitting under the towering jacaranda trees, letting violet-tipped blossoms fall all around you.

And as my morning dwindled away in that very nature and I finally decided that it was time to find my way back inside, savouring the feeling of morning air that draped itself around me like a new dress, I couldn’t help but soak it all in.

Green upon green… beauty upon beauty… met my hungry eyes as I glanced back, feasting on the glorious colours that springtime had brought. Untying my soiled gardening attire and flinging it on a low bush beside the kitchen entrance, i couldn’t help but smile as I heard Nani’s voice, picking flowers and making a bouquet to post next to the kitchen counter when I stepped back inside.

It was just one of those days that I felt direly in need of having springtime sprinkled over everything.

As much as we appreciate the beauty of Spring, as we witness the splendour of the seemingly dead being revived, as colours spring from nowhere, and possibilities are abundant… when sweetness blooms… we tend to forget that our lives and our hearts need a season of blooming too.

The truth is that the true nature of the human heart is as whimsical as spring weather.

And to aid the heart, the Qurʾān and the Sunnah are two flowers whose fragrances are only smelt after they are watered. They are the spring of our life that revives our lost soul, waters our parched hearts and plant seeds of hope once again. They are a mercy to mankind, reminding us that our hearts can still bloom with love and gratitude, in appreciation of the gift that Allah sent to restore our brokenness once again.

I would never forget the first colour of spring bloom that year, and the point in time which I spotted it just before the kitchen window as Nani spoke nineteen-to-the-dozen in the backdrop. It had started off with an amazingly unique, peachy colour, as it opened into a bronzey orange that twinkled in the sunlight and that I found simply enchanting.

”I heard our Mosee is gone to the stay at Hamzah’s Dadi,” Nani was saying, her eyes looking even more serious than ever as she glanced at me coming in, her hands busy with chopping the coriander for her next batch of samoosas. “I hope she is behaving properly and not being lazy, like how she acts here. Won’t even lift a spoon and act like she is so busy with the baby. I won’t be surprised if her mother-in-law and sister-in-law are watching her every move and complaining.”

”I don’t think that her mother-in-law is with them,” I said innocently, purposely not divulging Mohsina’s annoyance about the fact that her sister-in-law was constantly in her face.

That was marriage though. There’s always someone who will annoy or irritate you and you have to just keep having Sabr and be the best kind of person you can to them.

Often in our journey in life, we forget that everything about our purpose in life should be channeled toward getting closer to our creator.

And of the most sublime characters of the propagations of Islam, is the quality that trumps all other. Good character. How we treat others.

“Also,” I piped up, remembering that she had actually been trying to create a good impression. “She took some cheesecakes with.”

”Chi,” Nani said, shaking her head, not looking impressed in the least. “One tray of cheesecakes? Whose nose that will go into? When I got married we cook big, beeeeg pots of food and roll 5 kilo flour of rotis every Saturday. No one to even help until Nanas brother got married. If I had baby, I would put baby on top of counter and do work.”

Eish. Nani and her competitiveness. Honestly, it was like the people were made different back then. How they managed, I don’t know.

“But mummy, she’s improved a lot,” Ma said, sticking up for Mohsina. “From not even making a breakfast now she even fries an egg for Hamzah every day. At least she is giving him something.”

”Bhengori, you always defend her,” Nani said stubbornly, raising her finger as she pushed her scarf back. “From day one, Mohsina never learn to cook. Only one thing you and Iqbal taught her: study, study and study. Big big accounting books and no Indian delights. Jameela, you don’t get all these funny ideas. You can only study best BSc. Baking, sewing and cooking. That’s how you will keep your husband happy.”

I smiled, not trusting myself to say anything else. From my friends who were married, I knew that cooking was something that they all struggled with at first. Our generation was just a teeny bit spoilt. Our mothers did everything for us. But as I saw Mohsina growing and learning in marriage, I knew that there was hope for me too.

Besides, I knew that men weren’t only worried about stuffing their faces, right? What about love? I was a sucker for love. Feelings. Emotion. That was important too, right?

“You will have no troubles if you can keep husband happy,” Nani was going on as she cleaned the dhaniya. “And that other doctor I was talking about, Jameela, I think we must go and meet Khairoon and he can see you-“

”Mummy, I’m not sending my daughter like that so one boy can see her,” Ma said stubbornly, raising her eyebrows as she sipped her cup of tea. “If he wants to see her we need to ask Jameela if she is okay with it and then he can come home properly.”

I smiled shyly, not really feeling this whole proposal thing. They just made it sound so unromantic. Meet the boy. See if you click. And then… it’s the waiting game.

But also, maybe I needed to wake up and say goodbye to the dream of being swept away by my Prince Charming and stop saying no to every guy that everyone suggested.

For Mohsina to actually encourage me to get married before twenty was a big thing.

“Bhengori, how can she not be okay with it?” Nani said in gujarati. “Don’t give them so many choices, you must decide and let her meet him at least.”

Goodness, I must just meet all these random men. My nerves will be frazzled. The situation would be so awkward. What if I hated him?

To me, she turned and said:

”Jameela, he is sooo fair and handsome, like one white man he is,” she said dreamily, and I couldn’t help but giggle.

For Nani, fairness was gold. Why were Indian people so shallow?

What about his akhlaaq? His Deen? His attachment to the masjid? What about how he deals with people.. and how much of the Sunnah he has in his life.

Either way, Nani was going on about him like he was some kind of faultless being that fell from Jannah and also, well… if he was so nice, why didn’t she marry him?

“But Nani, I don’t think white men are my type,” I said meekly, trying to crack a joke.

“But he is a doctor,” Nani said excitedly, as if that was the be all and end all of life. “Khairoon already said he wants to come and all you have to say is yes and they will come tomorrow.”

No. She cannot be serious. This was pressure. I could feel my cheeks flaming up as Nani and my mother looked at me expectantly.

”Er, okay,” I found myself saying weakly, knowing that I was going to regret it.

The look on Nani’s face was priceless though, and I supposed it was worth her excitement if I had to sacrifice my own comfort for a little while.

And as I left the kitchen, leaving my mother and Nani to make their plans for tomorrow, I couldn’t help but feel an odd sinking kind of sensation in my gut.

And as my eyes fell on the dusty peachy orange colour of the rose as I stepped out into the afternoon sunshine, my hand automatically stretched out to enjoy the natural feel of it’s silky petals and I couldn’t help but feel my heart lifting. No matter what happened… what my heart endured… Nature just brought something out in me that I couldn’t even describe.

I would purposely go out there and read my Qur’ān and soak in all the goodness that it’s words had to offer me in this surreal setting.

I had purposely escaped Nani because I knew that spending more time around her was going to give me nerves, and as I heard someone come from behind me, I couldn’t help but smile as I glimpsed my father coming down the stairs after me.

I knew that he had been busy lately with the shop and trying to think of new ideas to keep things going. From time to time, I assisted and I knew a little about the worries he faced and him hoping not to fall back into the hands of loan sharks and people who would threaten his peace of mind.

“Salaam Papa,” I said softly as he approached me, stretching out his arm to squeeze my shoulder affectionately. I leaned in for a short embrace, realising how much I’d missed my father the past few days while I had been avoiding the coffee shop.

My father’s arms, for me, had always been a safe and comforting place. I knew that for Mohsina, being as independent as she was, she didn’t see him quite the same way. For her, Papa was the one who needed the protection. Papa was the one who would turn to Mohsina for guidance and if there was ever a problem, she always knew exactly what to say. How she took on so much was beyond me…

“I hear they’re planning your marriage,” my father said, grinning as he saw me roll my eyes. I wasn’t surprised to hear that Nani would probably even start shopping for her outfit tomorrow.

“You coming to the shop?” he said, looking at me with a smile. It was a Saturday and one of the busier days of the week.

“Are you alone there today?” I asked, not revealing anything in my expression.

He simply nodded and then looked at me again. I didn’t know that Papa was alone.

But as he said it, I vaguely remembered Nusaybah mentioning something about her and Zubair going to see a grandparent that weekend, which was something that her brother has asked for time off for.

And I couldn’t help but remember the day before when I was out there, thinking anout what a wonderful person Nusaybah was. When I first met her, I never thought that she would turn out to such an amazing character.

Meeting her was like a gust of fresh air that came with so much of amazement and splendour. Not only did I learn about the beautiful character of the Nusaybah bint Ka’b who her mother named her after, but I learnt so much more.

Nusaybah bin Ka’b (RA) was a well-known ‘sheroe’ of the time and gained a reputation as the most distinguished woman who took part in the Battle of Uhud. She was one of two women who expressed an interest in swearing their Bayah or allegiance to the Prophet (Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam) in the second pledge at Aqaba. She believed that a woman had the same duty in defending the new religion as a man.

When I met Nusaybah, her character was so similar to the war attendant she was named after, that every time I looked at her, all I could see was this amazing and determined young lady who wanted to help the world. She was so quirky and animated, but at the same them, so focused on Deen and just trying her best to be the best.

Most of all, I could see she had this deep-rooted concern for her brother, and having no mother, had stepped into that role from ages back. She often spoke about how Zubair was so young when he lost his mother, and how she always tried to toughen him up before she died. And though she didn’t go into much detail about her brother due to obvious reasons that she probably did not want to divulge… I figured that she really loved her brother and just wanted the best for him…

“Jameela,” my father said, jolting me back to reality, and there was a flicker of concern in his dark brown eyes as he looked at me. “Are you happy with meeting this doctor boy?”

I looked at my father, not meeting his eye as he said it.

I stayed silent and looked down, feeling too shy to say anything more, as he ruffled my hair, noted my silence, and then walked along again without saying a word more.

There were times when I felt that maybe Papa knew more than he let on. After all, it was Papa who was always around when I tried so hard to mask my feelings and disappointment when Zubair would barely even acknowledge that I existed. And I knew it was wrong and that I had to fight my feelings, and this was precisely why I had been making myself even more scarce, and I think Papa knew it.

But how did I even explain that to my father?

I caught myself in the nick of time, before my little train of thought ran into a full daydream, because I knew very well that even thinking of the possibilities was steering my thoughts into dangerous territory.

As much as I tried to stop myself from forming any sort of attachment, there were some things I couldn’t control… like the severity of my beating heart when he came into the vicinity, or the fifty shades of pink I would turn if anyone mentioned his name. It was like long before we even knew of each other, something within me already had an inkling that at this point of my life, this guy would appear and take over all my sanity.

Stop, I warned myself, trying with all my might to control my nafs. My sister had warned me way too many times about him.

He wasn’t good enough. Not rich enough. Not educated enough.

He was far from suitable and I couldn’t even think about a future with someone who had no proper form of income. My father himself was still finding his footing, and to depend on him to support us was quite ridiculous. Right?

And as I walked along, with no real purpose, with the thought of everything had happened and the mention of Mohsina as well, I knew that it may be about time to check in on her. I suppose I better tell her that Nani was quite intent on calling Doctorsaab home, and that would probably be something she might want to be back home for the following day.

I recalled that she had a hectic week with people going crazy on her on Instagram after someone falsely accused her of some sinister intentions, and I hadn’t spoken to her much about it. How people could just divulge and share things with no verification was beyond me. I knew that it was a lesson to take. Social media was such a horrible platform because with the click of a button, someone’s izzat can be completely ruined.

Feeling for my phone, which I could never seem to hold onto for very long, I found myself heading back inside, purposely ignoring Nani’s voice from the kitchen.

I couldn’t deal with her excitement right then, and as I reached the lounge, the buzzing of my phone was coincidental as I grabbed it and scanned the screen, immediately seeing Mohsina’s name.

Jamz, I need to know something.

It was a simple question but I wasn’t sure what it was about the message that got me on edge.

Shoot.

My reply was casual and simple but I was dying to know what she was asking.

Was there anyone else who saw Faadil the day he came home?

That was random. Why on earth was she revisiting the past like that? Unless Hamzah…

Oh no, I was already getting nervous for her.

Me: Did Hamzah find out ??!

Mos: Just answer the question. I can’t call right now, but…

My heart was beating steadily in my chest, as I tried to think back to that day. I was in the coffee shop, pulling out the sack of flour when I saw him in his formal attire, and as I spoke to him briefly… it was clear to me then.

Clear as day.

Me: Zubair saw him from a distance. Is everything okay?

I was well aware that she didn’t like Zubair and I truly hoped that she was not going to pin anything on him.

Mos: I told Hamzah about Faadil.

Oh my word. My heart thudded in my chest as I read the message again.

Me: Mos. Is he okay?

It was a dumb question. Of course he wasn’t okay. I couldn’t imagine how that must feel. I didn’t ask her how much she said. I just hope she told him enough to clear the air.

Mos: You know Hamzah. He hasn’t said much but I can tell he’s upset. Probably hurt. We can’t talk much… we’re not home, and his sister is hovering over us like a sniper. I didn’t tell him about the day of the Nikah.

Me: You didn’t?

I was incredulous. Why was my sister like this? Why?

Mos: He will never believe that Faadil came of his own accord, and that will break him, Jameela.

Oh hell. Now I knew why she was asking. She was intending on keeping that a secret.

But was it wise?

I typed quickly, hoping to reassure her.

Mos, I don’t think that Zubair will ever say anything.

She took a few moments to reply this time, but I could see that she was typing.

I hope so, Jameela. I’m worried. My sister-in-law knows something and is causing problems for me and if this ever comes up, I don’t think Hamzah will ever believe that I wasn’t involved with him at that time. It just looked so bad…

She’s right. It looked really bad. It was as if she was stringing Faadil along all that time, when she was supposed to have ended things with him and decided to marry Hamzah. What was going through Faadil’s head at that time, I couldn’t understand either…

But the truth was completely different.

Let me think.

I sent those three words, hoping that it would settle her mind and make her stress less. Zubair was just a worker here. I doubted that he would get involved in things that didn’t concern him. i knew that there was no way.

I sighed, feeling a headache come on at the mere thought of all the admin this would entail.

Even the soothing scent of roses as I walked back to the house did nothing for my peace of mind, as a trudged along this time, wondering how on earth my sister got herself involved with a character like Faadil in the first place. Something that started with sin could never end in peace…

Now, there was this whole secret and Zubair was in the middle of it.

I felt as if she wanted me to tell him to be quiet.

I took a deep breath as I headed out, knowing that a small walk would help to settle my thoughts.

Maybe I could talk to Nusaybah or leave some kind of anonymous note. I wasn’t sure how exactly I was going to get the message across but I was quite worried for Mohsina and concerned about what this could bring.

Taking a walk around the yard as the sun made its way out for the day, I didn’t even realise that I was heading to the front of the property where the little houses and empty stable was.

With the sun blazing now in full force, I found myself trudging along thread the semi-dilapidated building that hosted a few different rooms, and two separate bathrooms for staff. I didn’t often come out there because there really was no need.

I knew that Zubair stayed around the front of the building and I purposely steered clear of that section, not wanting to intrude and intending on passing by without even giving it a second glance. Knowing that he wasn’t around today also made me a little braver, as I found myself looking around a little more intentionally, wondering which room exactly  belonged to him.

And as I purposely killed the curiosity and went around the back, despite the little yellow flowers that were blooming on the sides of the hedge, noticing that the part of the grounds were quite neglected, I couldn’t help but wander up the back pathway was looking like it needed a serious clean up. It was dreary and sandy and in dire need of some pressure hosing, and as I walked up to the little door that was once a store room for the horses equipment, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of eeriness as I approached… despite the scent of spring blooms in the air.

The cobbled pathway right there looked as if it was completely neglected, and for some reason, I was extremely wary about what may lie beyond the closed wooden doors that were now straight ahead of me. They were the typical old, oak farm style doors that were surprisingly heavy to shift, despite them being quite worn out, and as I found myself right in front of them, I couldn’t help but try and do just that.

And as I knocked on the door, just to be safe that no one was around, I couldn’t help shift myself around as I pulled up my dress slightly and used all my lower body force to attempt the door to budge.

Using my entire body weight now, it felt almost as if something was pushing against the door, stopping it from opening for some odd reason. As hard as I tried to dislodge it, it only budged like two centimetres, before getting stuck agaIn. And the more resistance it gave, the more determined to get in there I was, for some reason. I pushed and huffed a few times, putting all my effort into it, until something behind finally relented and it swung open to a certain point, giving me a tiny space just to move into and enter.

And as my eyes adjusted to the mild lighting and my eyes caught sight of what was ahead, I had to literally stop my legs from buckling underneath me, as I gazed in absolute shock.

All I knew right then was that everything that I had thought about Zubair… every little idea or inkling that we had ever assumed was true… was nothing further than the truth.

What was in front of me was the most unassuming thing that I could have ever imagined. All I knew right then was that this dark secret that had been revealed to me in this unexpected way was no coincidence, and in the depths of my heart…

I knew that there was no saving anyone from what would unfold from here.

---

Mission Revive a Sunnah: Avoiding Suspicion

Many times, messages, post and videos go viral on social media. It creates a frenzy of discussion and debates and often leads us to jump to untrue conclusions.

Giving people the benefit of the doubt is part of the Sunnah. We should also avoid reposting anything that we don’t know the source of or which we cannot verify.

Abu Hurairah (Radiallaho Anho) reported that Nabi (Sallahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) said something to the effect: “Be aware of suspicion for suspicion is the worst of lies.”

May Allah Ta’ala save us from being suspicious and harbouring ill thoughts of others.

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

A Ray of Sunshine

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 36

Jameela

How do you say goodbye when you didn’t even know you were supposed to say goodbye?

I mean… The thing is, all goodbyes are different. Some are for a day. Some, for a month. And some, as painfully heartbreaking as they are, are forever goodbyes.

And in a beautiful narration that so aptly captured my heartfelt emotions as I recalled it on that fateful night… in one of his books, the famous saint, Imaam Ghazali Rahmatullah writes that Nabi Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam once asked Allah Azza Wa Jal:

“O my Rabb, where can I find You?”

And to this, Allah Ta’ala replied:

“You will find Me by those whose hearts are broken.”

(Al-Hamm wal Huzn no 61)

And that’s all it was.

Broken-hearted. Heartbroken.

The emotional transition was something that I could barely understand before this, but now, I could so accurately comprehend.

Was there any way to dull the pain, to lessen the blow..  Was there any less painful way to put it… to feel it… to digest it?

And on that earth-shattering evening, it was blow after blow. Heartbreak upon heartbreak. A slow but steady ache as the evening edged on, hearts bleeding with anguish… we were struck with such an immense feeling of devastation that breathing didn’t even come easily anymore.

And as I looked up, my mind an overwhelming jumble of emotion as the second blow came that night, the only resort I had was to submerge my heart in the knowledge that Allah Taála was the Ultimate Planner, Healer and Over-seeer… the tranquility that had descended thereafter was almost unbelievable. It had all occurred just before Maghrib Salaah, as Liyaket headed back home to drop Layyanah before he would go to Masjid… when his car met in a tragic accident that would be etched in the memory of many, for a long time to come.

”Allah knows best,” was all I could hear, at the end of every sentence, as I heard the voices in the hospital corridor. “It’s Allah’s will. It’s all His plan.”

And that was the only thing that really gets you through it, doesn’t it?

Allah doesn’t take something from us without giving something in return.

Sometimes Allah takes something away from our world, but even through that, surely there has to be a ray of sunshine that will make its appearance, although it just needs its time to come to the shore…

Because amidst the shattered hopes and broken dreams, is a beautiful plan that comes to remind us that every now and again, we must be awakened from our worldly slumber to shift the focus from this meagre world, to the one that is eternal. From a world of futile pursuit to a place where there is no grief, no pain and where glad tidings for the ones who withstand the hurt and the pain with patience are able to say that they’ve truly been humbled by it all..

And oh yes, we were.

Humbled to our very knees, praying with utmost fervency with bated breath almost, my sister and I stood there, in the dreary hospital corridor, on the brink of insanity, as we waited for the news about Liyaket, as the doctors on call tried with every ounce of theirs to give us some hope and keep him with us.

No less than several hours later, using the jaws of life to extract Liyaket from the drivers side of the car, With him being on the side of impact, the devastating collision had injured him significantly.

And as the paramedics rushed him to the nearest hospital and doctors had attempted with every ounce they had to keep him from flatlining, it was only two hours later that Liyaket was announced to have joined his Queen in the abode of eternity, to meet his Lord and reside in forever together.

For the living, though, death was brutal. Like a punch in the stomach… Blurring your vision for a short time, and then bringing the reality of life that we had long ago lost the essence of into focus once again.

Death didn’t look at your wealth, status or your dependents. Death didn’t look at your youthful beauty, your aspiring career or wait for your child to grow up..

Death, in it’s ferocity, didn’t even look at your age.

And as Mohsina and I drove to the house after in silence, the glorious horizon stretched widely ahead of us in the wee hours of Saturday morning, the bloody sunrise that broke over us brought with it it’s own emotions. Crimson and tangerine streaks of light covered the width of the skyline, almost as if reaffirming the tragedy that had rocked our world just hours before.

”I just can’t believe it,” Mohsina almost whispered, her gaze fixed in the road ahead as we drove. “Life is so short.. No one knows at what point it’s all going to be over, but Layyanah’s life change … well, that was really something that that was one in a million, wasn’t it?”

I swallowed, fighting back tears, thinking of her as I nodded.

They are a few souls from amongst this world are those who sell their own selves, searching for the happiness of Allah. Layyanah had come, like a gust of wind, knocking us all out of our delusional world, with her colorful personality and complete aversion to material things, in her new found escape.

How she had sacrificed so much, so deeply, was still a mystery to anyone who knew the life she had come from. And on one occasion, just around a month back, she had said it so beautifully, as she looked at me, with a contented smile on her face, reading something she had picked up from the bookshelf a minute before.

She had come to visit my mother with little Zaid, because she had said she missed seeing the activity the coffee shop brought every day. Even though Papa had employed someone to assist, she was adamant that she would be back to help us once Zaid started crawling around and she was a bit more capable.

We sat on the lawn while my mother went to fetch some iced tea that she was trying out for the coffee shop, so we could give her our reviews.

“Ah,” she said whimsically, her eyes bright as she looked at me. “Just listen to this.”

And I had sat on the damp grass, as she shifted on the wrought iron outdoor chair, and read aloud.

It was a heart rendering incident that was said to have occurred on the occasion of Faathima’s (RA) wedding, where she appeared to be a little reserved and despondent. Her beloved father (Sallahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) knowing a little about her concerns, went up to her, addressing her so lovingly as Nabi (Sallalhu Alayhi wa Salam) said  that he knew that Ali (RA) was poor, possessing very little and living in difficulty.

He also mentioned that he stayed in a rented house, had to work for a living and owned no wealth or property of his own.

And then, Layyanah’s face brightened as she looked at me, her eyes warmth with contentment and a huge smile on her face.

“But then, listen to what he says next,” she murmured delightedly, sounding awestruck as she glanced at me again. “And it was as if this part was meant just for me to see and digest…”

I looked at her and smiled back, waiting to hear what she was so ecstatic about. And it didn’t disappoint.

”’I’m also aware that I have turned down many proposals of many wealthy individuals,’” she continued softly, with a teary smile on her face. “‘However, Oh Faatimah! Don’t be sad. The trials and poverty of this world is only a few days. Keep your gaze on the Aakhirah and it’s bounties, because the wealth of the Heavens is for you. Allah Ta’ala will make you it’s owner!”‘

And that, she certainly was.

SubhaanAllah.

And what more could anyone ask for? To meet Allah at a place where you know that you sacrificed everything in this world for Allah’s pleasure alone, and your reward is waiting for you in your final abode.

Mohsina’s  eyes were red-rimmed and teary as I narrated the incident to her as she looked at me with tears falling unashamedly from her eyes, and I really had nothing more I could say to even make them stop.

We had reached the funeral house now, and donned for the occasion, we entered to see streams of people who were already there, as Layyanah lay there with us for her final few minutes, I sat in a corner of the room an wept my heart out.

All I could think of was how beautifully Layyanah’s  life had changed, and how amazingly she sacrificed so much of this world because she saw the reality of the one she was about to enter.…

And that was precisely what I saw here, as I saw our friend being lifted, as they carried her over to the vehicle that would take her to her final abode, with hope upon hope that her resting place would be expanded greatly upon her arrival.

For those selected few, amidst the cries of grief and loss that hearts are submerged in, as their final journey to their resting place would begin, it is said that the deceased is already yearning to meet their Lord. Surely Allah had fulfilled His promise. Surely her abode would be a pleasant one.

Yes. We cry. Yes, we hurt. But, no…

No matter how much you hurt, pine or grieve… we don’t say that which will displease Him, because the knowledge that Allah is the full and only controller of life and death is sometimes all we needed to process.

I looked at my sister, who was utterly and emotionally exhausted, and I couldn’t help but see a completely different person to the one I had thought she had become all along.

Isn’t it funny how life keeps us apart, and death brings people together?

Right then, I felt closer than I’d felt in months to her, as we worked together, trying to piece all the fallen parts together and make this make sense once again .And it was still there. The little rift that existed between us, and all the things that we didn’t and couldn’t quite yet say. Somewhere, within us, existed so many hidden secrets, so many untold stories, so many words that were still left unsaid…

I yearned to break down all those barriers that had been built around us set our affairs right again, smooth over the creases and gain that courage once again to make her my best friend…

Moreso, now that new information of how much she had really endured over the last few months became apparent to me just the week before, a new light was shed on her, and my heart contracted momentarily for everything she had probably been through, trying to keep our family together. Putting herself at stake. But still holding out a torch that maybe her and I would somehow meet at a place where we could bare our souls and let everything out.

Maybe tonight, once this lengthy day was finally over… we could bare our souls once again.

Sleep though… well, that was a distant memory and a yearned for escape. None of us, from our family, had had the luxury as yet. My mother had planted herself next to Liyaket’s  on a bench at the hospital, completely broken, almost as if their entire world had fallen apart in front of her eyes.

I couldn’t imagine the pain that his mother  was feeling, because when it comes to someone who your heart held oh so very close… you don’t just lose them once.

Losing someone is a journey, not a once-off. There is no end to the loss, there is only an attempt on how to stay afloat, when it washes over.

I breathed in as I looked ahead of me, tears blurring my vision as I thought of how this had even happened? So many questions were still hounding me as I processed it all, for the umpteenth time since that evening.

There was so much to still process. To digest. To sort out… before life could ever return to some kids of normal.

But for now, as Mohsina’s phone rang again, I hastily picked it up without a second thought as she came out, not expecting it to be the long-awaited call that she was expecting from the hospital about Liyaket and Layyanah’s three-month old son, who was the most adorable piece of pudding that I had ever seen.

Within the chaos, I barely even had time to wonder about what would be the end result here. All the doctors had said was that he was under observation and no further information could be given until they checked with welfare about his guardianship.

My heart was in my throat from the minute they said it, because I knew that it could go either way. No information could mean that he was really critical or the complete opposite.

I watched Mohsina as she took the phone, walking along the edge of the grass outside at their house, basically responding with a series of ‘okays’ and ‘right’, as she spoke to them. I awaited either an exclamation of grief or joy, but none came yet, as she finally put the phone down, and then looked at me, with the most peculiar expression in her eyes.

“What’s happened?”

I was aching to know.

“He’s okay,” Mohsina said, a grim smile flashing on her face for a milli-second.

Somehow, he was alive and safe.

It was an overwhelming feeling of relief that was coupled with several waves of grief.

She explained briefly that baby Zaid had, by divine miracle, slipped down into the section between the dashboard and the seat, safe and secure, only by Allah’s intervention, but there was still a deep sense of loss for his deceased parents that acompanied the glorious news.

“They said he can be fetched later today.”

He can be fetched? Well, now, that was amazing news.

It was a ray of sunshine, amidst the darkened clouds. A rainbow of hope and a deep sense of gratitude, as I joyously went forward to embrace her but Mohsina stepped back for a minute, as she took a deep breath and looked at me, that peculiar expression now settling in her eyes as her brow furrowed.

“That’s not the end of it,” she said, swallowing as she looked around us, at the people in and out of the house now, coming forward to give their condolences, a squeeze of the shoulder or a sympathetic smile, before heading out back to their cars.

Soon the house would be empty again, and the loss more real than ever.

”What do you mean?” I asked my sister, narrowing my eyes.

“They said I could take him,” she said blandly, obviously completely torn between two unyielding factors that I had no idea of as yet. “They asked me if I want to sign for him. As a guardian, who was capable. To apply for adoption.”

Her voice was shaky as she said it, almost as if she couldn’t bare the weight of the responsibility that was suddenly on her shoulders.

I too, was slightly in shock. Layyanah’s sister was spotted at the funeral, but I wasn’t quite sure what their deal was there. Liyaket’s mother, I knew, was in no position for sole guardianship. She had all kind of medical complications and had started dialysis the previous month. Layyanah had mentioned that it meant long hours away at the hospital and lots of rest. She was almost always tired. Although she loved her grandson to bits, to expect her to take care of the baby on her own would be a little ridiculous.

”Okay,” I said carefully, trying to assess the situation. “So you will need to think about it. Maybe it’s not such a huge thing. Maybe you just need to-“

”It’s not that,” she cut me off, shaking her head. “I would take him in a heartbeat. There’s one catch…”

”What is it?” I asked, holding my breath. I didn’t want to say it but I so badly wanted her to say yes. I just wanted to open my heart and love that little guy with every ounce of me that I had.

”According to documentation, there’s someone else who has just as much right than I do,” she said, her expression now painfully resilient as she said it, almost as if she was entering a battlefield of her own.

“And I’m going to have to ask for his consent first.”

---

Mission Sunnah Revival

Revive the Sunnah of Giving Constant Sadaqah.

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

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

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

Regarding the 15th night of Sha’baan, Especially as we head toward Ramadaan, we should try and increase in good deeds and prepare ourselves more for longer stretches of ibaadat, in preparation for our Aakhirah. May Allah grant us the strength.
There is a specific Du’aa for the 15th of Shabaan that is below.

Du’aa for Sha’baan 

اَللّهُمَّ بَارِكْ لَنَا فِى شَعْبَانَ وَ بَلِّغْنَا رَمَضَان

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

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

#ReviverheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

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

When the Unmentionable is Mentioned…

Bismihi Ta’ala

Rubeena

I once heard Khawlah say to the kids that if you can have gratitude, you can be the king of even a one-story shack. It was like an epiphany to me. To be grateful was something I never gave much credit to before, but now made so much of sense. Being grateful for things increase their worth multiple fold…

And every day for me, since my divorce, was a learning experience. Some days I learnt tolerance. Some days patience. Some days I learnt faith.

And some days, I learnt how to just be. To stop. To ponder. To be grateful. To realize how many bounties Allah had given me, that I do rarely stopped to thank Him for.

And through my journey and the lessons and everything else…. Time was passing us by at record speed. It seemed like the more we chased it, the more it evaded us. The more we tried to hold onto the moments, the more illusive they became.

And no, we didn’t talk about it. We didn’t want to. We lived in a world of idealism where everything around us existed for what it was, and we were merely trying to just live for what we could see right then. It was the same thing we in our ordinary lives. Live for the moment. Don’t think about the future. Have no worries… because this world was something that wanted us to keep thinking that it would never end…

And as we continued with our regular outings and the likes, Adam’s health was constantly changing. I supposed that it wa sa constant reminder lurking there. While he appeared well most of the time, there were moments when I glimpsed the reality of his fatigue and weakness. It was something that I remembered often when I looked back, because it showed me a little more about who my brother truly was. Nothing held him back. Despite the illness and despite the odds, he pushed through to be the best human being he always could.

Of course, we looked forward to spending time with him, but through it all I could tell that Adam was building up for something really special. It was something that he was purposely psyching himself up for. Something that the boys would remember for a really long time. I didn’t understand it at that time, but in retrospect, the way he had planned it all down to the tee was quite incredible.

And yes, I thought about it often because it was late winter and we were all still wondering why Adam had insisted our weekend bags be packed with ultra warm clothes, when it was practically scorchers in Gauteng. I had a good mind of checking his medication doses but I tried to be open-minded as we headed out for our family road trip that by any standards, was bound to be eventful.

“Are we there yet?”

It was about the millionth time I had heard the question, but to tell the truth, even I was wondering the same thing. Amidst my parents chatter and the general enjoyment of being altogether, we all couldn’t stand the wait.

”Where are we going?” Danyaal asked, the curiosity killing him. He could never take suspense. Even at story time, he was the most impatient of the lot.

We were sitting in a mini bus, headed for a destination that only Aadam knew of. I could see him smiling to himself mysteriously as we looked out the window at the roads, hoping that my brother had not lost his mind completely. Anything was possible at this point. I loved my brother but he always did have a whacky side to him.

“You’ll see,” Adam said with a wink. “It’s a surprise.”

Surprises were Adam’s favorite thing and my worst nightmare. I could not take the anticipation either. Besides the odd comment, my mother, on the other hand, was surprisingly quiet as we drove along. I think it was the fact that she and I were seated two rows apart… which meant she had no-one in the vicinity that she could focus on. At least it meant that I could exist in my little bubble of peace for a few hours longer.

“Uncle Adam!” Dayyaan shouted suddenly, pointing out in awe. “It’s snow!”

I had barely even been focusing, but my eyes sprung open as he said it, allowing myself to savor the first view of the powdery spread that seemed to have come from nowhere. The temperature had very evidently dropped and I loved it. Icy cold weather was my best kind.

Adam smiled to himself as he looked out, obviously elated at the shouts of delight coming from the back seat.

Ah yes. Adam has really outdone himself this time. The boys had never seen snow before and they were literally somersaulting over the seats to try and get better views.

“SubhaanAllah.”

It was Khawlah’s voice that spoke softly from the back.

The kids loved having her here as well, and I could literally see my brother glowing every time he looked back at her. Of course, no-one else could really do justice to reminding us of the beauty that Allah could create with such splendor. The endless whiteness went on till what seemed like eternity. It’s appeal was almost striking as I gazed as the soft hillocks that we passed. Every wonder, every creation… sometimes when we get stuck in our worldly pursuits we forget that there’s such amazement that awaits us..  such creation whose Maker is worthy of the ultimate praise.

Indeed… nothing was created in vain.

And of course if didn’t end there. Once we reached the resort where we would be staying for the next two days, our hearts were completely taken by the perfection and splendor that we saw. I almost couldn’t believe how perfect today seemed… it was almost as if we were waiting for a bomb to drop on us…

And as I helped to lug the suitcases out, my eye strayed over as I watched Adam and Khawlah as they conversed, not being able to help the feeling of inadequacy that seemed to overcome me at the same time. Adam had, through his latest escapade, inadvertently let me into his world where I was awakened to the possibility of real love. It was something that I didn’t expect or could barely explain… but as I saw them now, my heart did a little contraction, as I found myself turning away.

There I was, thinking the unmentionable and feeling like scum as I  looked at my brother almost in disgruntlement, thinking about how I could be so horrible despite the life that I had chosen for myself. I was lacking nothing really, but yet the feeling of displacement continued.

Yes, I had four beautiful kids. Yes, I had perfect health. Yes. I had a beautiful house and the best of everything. Yes, I had much more than many people around me… Alhumdulillah. But somehow, I couldn’t help but stop myself from wondering why I didn’t have that amazing husband that loved me with all of his heart. The one that was supposed to raise me to new heights.

I felt like the woman who opened her wardrobe to see two dozen dresses of red, yellow, orange, pink and you-name-it colours hanging in there. Of course, she is still convinced that she has nothing decent to wear…

Ugh. That was me. Why couldn’t I be of the few slaves of Allah who were grateful?

Ingratitude. It was almost corrosive. Destructive. There were many ways I had been indifferent and ungrateful and I knew that I needed to change. It was just that every time I made a little progress, there was always a small set-back that got me right back at square one. Right then, I knew that the recent events with Shabeer had caused it and I couldn’t stop myself from feeling angry at him all over again.

”Rubeena, this is not a joke,” Shabeer had said just the other day,  looking at me with that puppy dog face that I often saw on my second son when he couldn’t get his way. Only with him, it didn’t look cute. At all.

“This time I’m serious.”

I looked back at him blankly, completely emotionless. I didn’t feel sorry for him. Not even one bit. How did I end up with such a rotten egg?

”Whether you’re serious or not,” I said bluntly. “It doesn’t change the fact that it’s over. So can we just move on and let it be? You’re making this really uncomfortable. This is ridiculous, Shabeer.”

He had followed me to Adam’s flat and it was the last straw. Since then I had to switch the bells off at home and put an external lock to stop Shabeer from buzzing at odd hours and harassing me. He was being ridiculous. Seemed like the only other thing that would keep him away was a restraining order.

”I’ve changed, Rubeena,” he said, his eyes pleading with mine. “You’ve made me realize that I need to change my life. I’ve made so much of progress…”

I looked at my ex-husband, taking in his tawny hair that was greying, and noticing the red-rimmed eyes that had become almost a norm for him. Oh yes, he had changed. Physically, he was nothing like I remembered him to be.

It was hard to believe that once upon a time, he had been a heartbreaker who thought that this life wasn’t going to end. Now that he was seeing the effects of his sins… the only thing I truly wanted for him, for the sake of my sons, was to truly change…

”Have you started praying?” I asked, the words coming almost out of nowhere. “Do you attend the masjid? Have you listened to any lectures? Do you do Adhkaar? Do you have any connection with your Lord, Shabeer?!”

I wasn’t even sure where the thoughts had come from but my voice was rising as I said it.

Shabeer looked back at me with an uncertainty in his eyes as I questioned him, and I already knew the answers to them all. No, no and no. Maybe in his mind he had changed. Right now… I was in such a better space. I had everything I needed and I didn’t need this uncertainty. Well, almost.

”Is everything okay?”

My thoughts jolted back to the present as my brother came up behind me, catching me completely by surprise as he placed his hand on my padded shoulder. Despite being dressed to ski perfection, I still felt a little shivery as he stood next to me, looking over my shoulder as both of us gazed out in adoration at the spectacular view that was spread before us. It was simply mind-blowing.

We stood at the top of a huge dip that lay below, displaying a beautiful whiteness with random spots of greenery that were peaking out from underneath.  It was almost like the were trying to tell us something. To show us another beauty that we had missed before the whiteness descended. I turned to my brother with a small smile, stretching out my arm as I gave him a half bear-hug.

He smelt like he always did. Maybe a little extra oud than before, but he always had that powdery scent on him from the time he was a kid. He even felt sturdy, as he slung his arm around my shoulder. Like the old Adam.

It was just that now, I could see the difference in his energy levels, as he smiled and took a seat on a nearby rock. It was the only tell-tale sign. Though he never complained, where before he could go for hours he when it came to entertaining the boys, now it was barely 30 minutes before he would get tired.

”I’m fine,” I assured him. “Are you okay?”

Sometimes I was afraid of his answer, but Adam grinned at me as he sat.

”Couldn’t have been better,” he said softly. I could hear his raspy breaths in between. It was the cold that made him sound even worse than he was. ”This is amazing. Being with all you guys… together.”

”The boys are having so much of fun,” I said, watching them playing and running my gloves hands together as we watched them run back to the fireplace for their hourly dose of heat, probably feeling a little nippy as the evening was closing in. The view was simply breathtaking, from where we stood.

”I still can’t understand,” Adam said quietly, his dark eyes focused ahead. “How people can see nature and sunsets and oceans and blooming flowers and snowflakes… man…snowflakes! Ruby, I can’t even fathom… how people can see all of this and still believe that it happens by chance and there’s no God and everything is just one big coincidence…”

I glanced at my brother as we took in our surroundings, rendered slightly speechless by its absolute wonder. His hair was covered with a beanie and his cheeks were slightly flushed due to  the cold.

“How could I have been so blind before?”

I smiled almost to myself.

SubhaanAllah. There were no other words. That was the amazing part about Allah’s glory. Whenever you felt like you could say nothing that would give due credit, ‘SubhaanAllah’ was always there…

”That makes two of us,” I said, knowing that I was none the better. We had been awakened to a world of wonder and possibility because we now understood the greatness of the Lord who created it.

Adam’s eyes were fixed ahead. It was like there was something in his mind, yet he couldn’t find the words to say…

“Rubes, thank you for everything,” he said finally. “You’re the best sister in the world.”

I swallowed as I glanced at him, knowing that he wanted this time with me alone, but also fearful of what he meant by it.

“I know,” I said with a smirk.

It seemed like just a few months ago my brother was that little active boy who merely existed in my life as my little playmate. We were close but not like we are now. Now, my brother was the only person I had to really talk to. He was my go-to guy. The person I’d turn to for advice or inspiration… or even just a little chat if I needed it… I really didn’t want to think of saying bye to him…

“Seriously, Rubes. Thank you for supporting me,” he continued softly. “For seeing Khawlah for who she was. For loving me despite messing up things in my past. For pushing me to take this step… I wish that I could pay you back.”

I scoffed as he said it, not trusting myself to speak as yet. I was getting a little choked up and I didn’t understand why. He was absolutely obsessed, and it was so unlike him…

”I’m assuming everything went well?” I said subtlety, obviously not wanting to pry.

Adam looked at me.

”I can’t stop thinking about her, Ruby,” he said with a shrug. “Even when she’s here. Do you think I’ve lost the plot?”

I smiled. That was super cute.

“I think you’ll be alright,” I said with a wink. “Do you think I’ll ever find the plot?”

I grinned as I said it but Adam was looking back at me seriously.

”Remember that day you came to find me?”

I glanced at him, my face turning serious as I recalled, wondering if he was really taking about the same incident. It was a memory that I tried to block out. I had always thought that he had forgotten about it too. It was one of those unmentionables that we never mentioned…

”I didn’t know you remembered,” I said quietly, meeting his eye.

”I remember everything,” he said, his fingers intertwining with each other slightly nervously as he spoke. “And how you told me that one day I’ll find something that will make me forget all the pain that I was going through back then…”

I closed my eyes as I momentarily recalled it. Adam standing at the edge of his apartment wall while he looked down, as I tried to reason with him, like a crazy woman taking to a crazy and suicidal man.

”I was so scared that you were going to jump off…”

My heart still thudded in my chest as I remembered thinking how I would explain to my parents how it all happened, if he ever did jump.

”You told me that there would be better days,” he continued. “That no-one or nothing was worth hurting myself for. That one day, everything will fall into place…”

”I didn’t even think that you were in your senses,” I almost whispered, the memory so alarmingly real that I was stunned.

We had never spoken about it before but I could tell that it was really important to him right then.

”You also told me that I probably wouldn’t even die if I jumped,” he said with a slight smirk. “That if probably just get hurt really badly and then I’d make everyone’s life miserable because I’d probably be paralyzed for life and you would have to probably look after me and then you’d have no life beyond that which would completely suck…”

I grinned as I recalled it. He was right.

”I knew how to get you,” I said with a shrug. “And aren’t you glad you didn’t jump?”

“Duh,” he said obviously. “But that’s the thing Ruby. That’s what I wanted to tell you. That there’s always hope. That there will be better days. That you will find the plot. But seriously, yeah..“

I looked up at him as he turned to face me.

”What?”

”People who are looking for the plot don’t say no to perfect proposals…”

Yikes. That hurt.

I widened my eyes at him, a little shocked that he had mentioned it. It was one of the other  unmentionables that silently existed between us. It was a forbidden topic.

“I heard you out there, Ruby,” he almost whispered. “You can make up as many issues as you want… but I heard what you told Shabeer that day at my place. Don’t you think it’s a little hypocritical if you’ve got an opportunity exactly like you want and you don’t take it?”

My heart had been feeling a little bruised around the edges since I had said no. It had definitely taken a knocking these past few months, and every new addition to its torture wasn’t doing me any good at all. It was just that I couldn’t even think about all the chaos it would cause…

”I still think that he’s the one,” Adam said softly, glancing at me. “And I think you know-“

”Adam,” I said in a warning tone. “You know I can’t think of it right now. Im not in a good space. You’re not well. My kids are so young. He’s so young… gosh… he didn’t even tell me he was only twenty-one. It’s like having another child. Goodness, Adam, people will think I’m crazy. There are too many factors standing between us. I can’t just shove it all aside and do what I want…”

Adam frowned at me, as his look turned to interest. It just so happened that we could say nothing more  at that moment as Danyaal hopped up to us, shivering slightly as he stood between us.

”Mum, can we roast some marshmallows at the fire?”

Adam looked at him with a smile as I nodded.

”Danyaal,” Adam said softly, pulling himself towards us. “You remember the story Khawlah read about the first marriage of the Prophet (SAW)?”

Danyaal nodded solemnly.

”Do you remember how old Khadijah (RA) was?”

”Yup,” Danyaal said. “She was forty.”

”And how old was the Prophet (SAW)?”

”He was 25.”

I looked at Adam. He was smiling as Danyaal rattled off the details. It was her, may Allah be pleased with her, who had sent a proposal for this man who shone out from the rest. She was a beautiful and sought-after widow with an astounding reputation of nobility. My son knew more about the Seerah than I did.

She was married twice before. She had kids too. I sucked in my breath as my son spoke about how perfect their marriage was. How she accepted his message with no hesitation. How they developed love and compassion and understanding. How she supported him relentlessly in the mission to spread the Deen. How he married no-one else whilst he had her. How Allah sent His esteemed Salaam to her. How she got glad tidings of a beautiful palace of jewels in Paradise… for all of her sacrifice.

How my beloved Nabi (SAW) loved her with such ferocity that no other wife could compare. How he sobbed when she had passed on, and he glimpsed her necklace years later. How the pain was so severe at her passing that my Nabi (SAW) had mentioned that if he could… he would have wrapped her in his blessed skin.

That was Khadijah, may Allah be immensely pleased with her. Beloved of the beloved wives of the Messenger SAW.

”If I ever have a daughter,” Adam said quietly. “That’s who she’ll be named after. My all-time favorite Sahabiya.”

“But what if you only have boys, Uncle Adam?” Danyaal asked obviously, grinning at me proudly. “Like Mum.”

I can see that Adam was making a silent Du’aa as the thought crossed his mind. My boys were enough for the whole family to handle…

”Then maybe your mum can have a girl,” Adam said with a grin. “So we can have a Khadijah in the family to spoil…”

I smiled as Danyaal scampered off and left Adam and me alone again. Of course he wasn’t serious… I had no intention of having more kids. I knew that I probably wouldn’t manage. Besides, I felt like I had changed so much in these few months… so much about what I had wanted and aspired for before this had completely changed for me.

The day was closing in now and I could feel the icy breeze through the top opening of my jacket. I knew that we were due to make our way inside, but something was holding me back…

The sun was dipping shyly away into the horizon, boasting shades of orange, magenta and peach as we watched it slide away…. We were mesmerized.

“You don’t have to wait for it, Ruby,” he said in a low tone, gazing out into the beauty. He cleared his throat as I wondered what he was talking about.

“But I promise you that it will happen,” he continued softly. “Happiness, I mean. It does exist. And maybe you may not feel like it right now but one day you’ll wake up and you’ll know where you’re going. Where you’re headed. You’ll see Allah’s great plan unfold for you… just like it did for me. You’ll still have good days and bad days but you’ll also have the most important wealth of all. You’ll live in the knowledge of contentment… and that, Rubes, I can tell you, is the best feeling in the world. Who’s to say that tomorrow won’t be the best day of your life? Maybe tomorrow you’ll be blown away. Maybe you’ll find everything you’ve been missing. Never lose hope. Maybe there’s already something amazing at your doorstep just waiting to happen…”

Adam looked back at me for a moment, and then turned around slowly, making his way back to the villa without a word.

I hated to admit it, but maybe Adam did have a point. Maybe I was throwing the towel in on a plan that could be my dream. Maybe there was something worth thinking about… and maybe, just maybe….

Maybe the unmentionables were actually worth mentioning…

---

Dearest Readers,

I’m so sorry about the delays. An extra long post to make up for it. InshaAllah will try and post again this week 💓

Much Love,

A xx

Sunnah Duaas! Let’s try and practice InshaAllah !

Yaa Muqallibal Quloob Thabbit Qalbee ‘alaa Deenik.

“Oh turner of the hearts (Allah, the Most High), keep our hearts firm on your religion“

Sunnah Duaa for drinking water 

اَلْحَمْدُلِلّٰهِ الَّذِىْ سَقَانَا عَذْباً فُرَاتاً بِرَحْمَتِهِ وَلَمْ يَجْعَلْهُ

مِلْحاً اُجَاجاً بِذُنُوْبِنَا

 

All praise is due to Allah, Who of his mercy has granted us sweet and pleasant water to drink and did not make it bitter and salty due to our sins.

Revive the Sunnah Duaa for drinking water. How easy to practice! 

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When Little Secrets open Big Doors…

Bismihi Ta’ala

Rubeena

 

We all have things that we don’t talk about. Things we’re too scared to say out loud. We protect others. We protect ourselves. Sometimes, no matter how much we’re aching to come clean, we hold onto those little secrets because we don’t want to face what comes after.

And the thing is, in this day of social media, where everyone’s life is on show, sometimes it’s hard to adjust to the meaning of living a private life. Of living a life that’s not for everyone to see. Whether you say it or not, people are hanging onto every thread of information. Even the Aunty at the fruit shop wants to know the darkest details about your failed marriage that you’ve never even told your mother. No matter how much you try to avoid it, privacy was slowly becoming a concept of the past.

And during my life, I’ve had many things happen that would have shook anyone to the core. They were just that unbelievable, yet I kept the deep and dark secrets to myself because revealing them would have revealed way too much.

Then there are times when the secrets sometimes out themselves.. sometimes, things happen to reveal everything for what it is. Allah makes it happen at the right time… to relieve you. To unburden you. Like He promises, for us there is never intended any difficulty.

And when that happens… it’s like a world of opportunity suddenly opens for you. You can do things you never thought you could. See things the way you should have all this time. When that finally happens, you see a part of life that your little secrets were hiding away all along…

”So what does your mother say about your daily dramas?” Siraj asked, glancing at me with amusement in his eyes.

I was glad that he thought it was funny, but I couldn’t have been more embarrassed. All I was doing that evening whilst I waited for my uncle to fetch us was trying to juggle my crazy life, plus give my kids a dose of the good stuff at the same time by sitting down for some reading… And then of course, we were interrupted by the terrible sound of Shabeer’s voice which was bellowing from outside…

My cheeks flushed again as I remembered my husband making an utter fool of himself. He honestly took the tea when it came to crazy drunken people. It wasn’t the only time it had happened… but it was the first time any of my family members had actually witnessed the untainted reality of my ex-husband… and boy, was it a sore sight to see.

”You know my mother,” I sighed, pulling the seatbelt to click it in as I glanced at my uncle, glad that he had pitched up and sent Shabeer away with his tail between his legs.

“She’ll find any  reason to prove what a failure I am in my life. If she knows, I’ll never hear the end of it. She just loves Shabeer. Only Allah knows why. There really is nothing to love about that man.”

Siraj shook his head. I had a good mind of calling Shabeer in as a service to my poor neighborhood, but I wasn’t sure if I could handle that terrible sound inside my house.

Thank goodness the boys just thought it was amusing. They didn’t know that their father had a genuine problem that was probably going to cause a lot of issues in the future. I shuddered at the reality.

He really needed help. I still could not believe that he had pitched up at home in that state….

”Does he drink often?” Siraj asked, looking slightly concerned as he drive. “He seemed convinced that you are his dream girl…”

I rolled my eyes. He was obviously too drunk to remember how caged he felt in our marriage.

”He does,” I said.

And yes, I was all up for giving people credit for their good qualities, but with Shabeer, there was absolutely none due.

“Ever since I remember…”

Siraj raised his eyebrows.

”I didn’t know….” he said, shooting me a sympathetic look. “Looks like the guy put you through hell. Rubeena, do you ever think you’ll recover?”

I smiled, slightly touched by his concern.

I supposed he couldn’t fathom it. Siraj was, after all, a good guy. I could tell that his wanting to pick me up before we headed to Adam was because  he wanted to make amends, but he didn’t know how to. The two of them had been at each other’s throats since the diagnosis and Siraj was obviously feeling guilty. After all, you can’t stay angry with a sick person, right?

I sighed, thinking about Shabeer again, how misguided he was, and whether he would ever change. The truth was, it actually wasn’t funny at all. When Shabeer was my husband, I had hidden all his faults. Every single dirty one of them.

Now that he wasn’t, strangely, I still felt a need to protect him… but Siraj had seen something that I didn’t anticipate. He had unintentionally seen the truth of what I had dealt with for all these years… and it wasn’t very pretty.

”I might need a helluva guy to knock me off my feet if I ever do,” I said in jest, knowing that I didn’t intend on it. Right now, guys were the last thing on my mind.

And the thing was, it wasn’t like I hadn’t thought about it at all. There were moments when I was lost and confused, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I would end up growing old and lonely with no one  at all. And then of course, I had ambitions for the hereafter as well.

I knew that I hadn’t been a perfect wife either. I was far from a saint in my marriage. But when I eventually did make that move, I wanted to do it over. I wanted to do it right.

I wanted to have the kind of marriage that really did give me everlasting beniefits.

A believing woman who prays her salaah, fasts in Ramadaan, guards her chastity and pleases her husband will be told to enter Jannat from a whichever door she wishes. (Mishkaat)

Those were real goals. I wanted that. And it really wasn’t so hard, because  all we had to do was refrain from sin and do our duty… and we get such an amazing guarantee.

”Don’t let your mother pressure you into marrying an idiot,” Siraj said as he turned into Adam’s road. “Find someone who’s willing to accept your kids and love you with no reservations. Someone who has your interests right now…”

”I know,” I said, glad that Siraj had more common sense than my mother. “I need someone whose serious about being a better Muslim too. I always admired the bond that you and Na’ilah had. She’s got a lot of faith. You’ll are so solid…”

My uncle said nothing for a while, as he listened to the boys in the back seat talking about some soccer club in the area that Adam took them to once.

”I’m actually not sure what’s going on with Na’ilah,” he said, his voice dropping. I could see his expression change as he glanced at me. “Sometimes I don’t understand her. She’s lost interest in everything. No matter how much I tell her that it doesn’t matter… she still gets cut up about not having kids. It’s tearing us apart.”

I looked at my uncle in surprise. I had no idea. Not having kids was completely out of anyone’s control and I’m sure she knew that. I supposed that it was easier said than done, but with pure conviction, and knowing that Allah will only test you as much as you could bear… I knew that it was a challenge that could be conquered.

”Did you guys ever think of adoption?” I asked, thinking it seemed obvious.

“Plenty of times,” he said, shrugging and pulling into the parking space. “But she always comes back to the point that what I’d want my own kids. I would love to adopt. Really. She wants me to take another wife. You know what my life is like. Besides the fact that I’ll need time that I don’t have to find one… Tell me, Ruby, which woman in her right mind will actually suggest that and be okay with it?”

I smiled as he said it. It was crazy, but as soon as he saw my expression he immediately looked apologetic.

”You’re looking right at her,” I said drily.

“Hell, Ruby,” he breathed, as he got off and helped me take the rowdy boys out the car. “Is there anything that man didn’t put you through?”

”Haha,” I said. “I’d have to think really hard about that one. I can ask him for some tips for you if you’re really serious about finding another wife. He seemed to have mastered the technique.”

Siraj chuckled as we walked into the building, me behind him as we stepped into the lift.

And yes, the shenanigans that Shabeer had been up to we’re far from easy at the time… but looking back now , I was glad that I could smile and say that I had made it through. It definitely meant that I had made progress and was on the way to recovery.

Ans of course, I was in the best of spirits as I entered my brothers flat because I knew that my mother wasn’t there. It wasn’t that I avoided her completely. I just felt it better got my general well-being if I spent as least time as possible with her. The more we steered clear of each other, the less chances of any explosions in the vicinity.

Khawlah greeted as I entered, giving me a quick hug as I followed my boys in, and quickly escaped  to the kitchen as she saw my uncle behind us. Khawlah just had this amazing quality of modesty in every situation that I always admired.

“How’s Adam doing?” I asked as I followed her, wanting to know what to expect before I went in.

She smiled as she glanced at me, knowing my habit of having random emotional outbursts when I saw my brother. By nature, I was not the most emotionally stable of people, and seeing Adam in the state he had been in a week ago set me off like a never before… snorts and all. I was a tad bit embarrassed.

“He’s fine,” Khawlah assured with a smile. “I think he’s just glad it’s the weekend.”

I widened my eyes comically. I knew the reason why.

My mother had been staying here in the week and basically micro-managing everything from his visitors to his diet. I could imagine that Adam must be quite relieved about her temporary absence. All I knew was that my father was particularly excited about the turn of events. When I spoke to him yesterday, he sounded like a man who had been let loose after a century of captivity.

“Shame,” Khawlah was saying sweetly. “I think she just wants to take really good care of him. She’s made four different lists of things that he needs to do. I didn’t know that she was so… particular.”

More like annoyingly controlling. It was quite typical that my mother would turn this into something so selfish. Making up for lost time was well and good, but I always felt sorry for Adam as a kid when my mother wouldn’t be around when he’d come home on the weekends. I supposed that’s what made us closer. We never spoke about it, but I’m sure Adam knew exactly what she was doing.

I glanced at the list of weird cultures and juices that he was meant to stuff down his throat daily. Low GI. Gluten free. Fresh vegetables. Weird concoctions. Yoghurts that I’ve never heard of before. Poor Adam had to probably just sit put and bear it all.

The kids were already all over Adam as I stepped into the room to see him on the bed, sprawled out now as they jumped around like four crazy monkeys. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched them, wondering how my uncle and Adam were actually having a conversation amidst the madness that was very evidently going on.

And yes, I was slightly surprised at how quickly Adam and Siraj just shifted back into comfortable companionship gear, thinking how strange men were. Men were just unassuming like that. No fuss. No grudges.

And as I stood there, I couldn’t help but feel a lump in my throat as I thought about the reality. I knew that I was getting to that crazy and emotional state of mind that would bring on the ugly tears, but despite the obvious downfalls of Adam being sick… I couldn’t help but think of how amazingly it had brought our family together.

For Ma and Mum… for Adam and Siraj… for me and the boys and the rest of our family. Sometimes Allah has really strange ways of working. Sometimes there’s more good that comes out of a less than favorable situation than we ever anticipate…

”I think we need to take them to the park later,” Adam finally said as he shook his head and tackled Zia who was literally diving head-first off the bed. “These guys have way too much energy for my humble apartment.”

And of course, as I tried to simmer them all down, I couldn’t help but think how on earth Adam would manage with the boys in his state… but then again… why not?

Why shouldn’t he enjoy his nephews before there came a stage when he couldn’t anymore? Maybe Adam needed to be out and about. Get some fresh air. Feel more alive.

I plopped myself on the single chair as Siraj left for the hospital and Khawlah came in, luring the boys with some awesome pasta dish that they were obsessed with and giving me some peace to spend some much needed time with my brother. She was so amazing with them and I didn’t even know how she did it.

And as she smiled at Adam, I could clearly see that it was her who Adam drew his immense strength from. She was so unwaveringly ‘together’. I wasn’t sure how she did it it, but my brother was already looking so much stronger, now that she was here. A little more optimistic.

Today was a good day, and I was glad that I was here to see it.

“Are you coping?” I asked him, watching him stretch out his legs as he sat back in the rocking chair he kept in his room.

He looked at peace. Content.

”I’m fine as long as you’re not feeding me weird stuff that makes me want to cringe,” he said steadily. “Mums been on quite a mission. You think she’d mind if I tell her to that she can stay home?”

I stifled a grin, wondering how long this would really last. Adam’s bound to say something critical at some point, which would probably send my mother off on a tantrum about how her children don’t appreciate her. Besides the diet, I could just imagine my mother coming into the room every few seconds, checking to see if he was still breathing. My mother got seriously suffocating at the worst of times.

”I think I may have a solution,”  I said, with a smirk. “It involves some cotton wool and cello tape…”

Adam grinned back at me. I knew I was being mean but the thought of my mother not being able to say the random and overbearing things that she was accustomed  to gave me a weird sense of satisfaction.

”Seriously, though,” I said, dropping my tone. “Have you spoken to Khawlah?”

Adam looked at me questioningly.

”About what?”

I wasn’t sure how to say it without seeming intrusive. I just wasn’t sure if my brother had thought that far ahead… But I mean, come on. It wasnt really on the list of things we usually spoke about… but which normal guy doesn’t think about these things?

”About her staying here,” I said carefully. “Don’t you think it’s time you guys make the big move?”

I could see Adam looking slightly pensive, as he glanced at me.

”I’m not sure what you guys are waiting for,” I added, raising my eyebrows at my brother and crossing my arms over my chest. “I know what you guys planned, and everything that’s supposed to happen.. but right now you’ll have no idea what the future holds. Haven’t you heard the saying… ‘time waits for no man’?! Come on, Adam… I think it’s time for a change of plans.”

“Ruby…” Adam said, looking a tad bit uncomfortable. “I can’t just tell her to put everything on hold in her life and save the day… although I would love to have her here… it’s not fair…”

”Why not?” I pressed urgently. “What if you’re not being fair?! What if she wants to? What if she’s waiting for you to say it? Do you doubt her love, Adam?”

“Not even for a moment,” he said without missing a beat. He wore a tired expression on his face as he continued. “But it’s not what you think. I’m no longer that guy who she married. Right now I’m okay, but there are times when I don’t want her to see me… when I’m in such an appalling state. I don’t want her to have to deal with all of that. With the drowsiness and the irritation and the rest of my annoying habits. If I opt for chemo then she’ll have to deal with that too. I’m certain that Allah is going to bring us through this and it’s going to be exactly what she expected when this is over and we take that big step…”

”And what if it never happens?” I asked, my voice rising as I looked at him. I didn’t want to say it but someone had to. “You can’t wait that long. You’re missing the point, Adam!”

He shrugged, almost as if he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“What if you never get better?!” I continued, internally shuddering at the thought. “What if you guys live in this dream world where everything is going to come together again and it never happens?!”

Adam blinked and watched me unemotionally as I stared at him, waiting for an answer. As far as I knew, there was a 50-50 chance. This could go either way.

What if? What if?! There were so many uncertainties in this life. He remained silent for a few seconds before he spoke again.

“You’re scared,” he said softly.

I swallowed and looked at him. Of course I was scared. Of course.

I didn’t want to lose my brother. But more than that, I didn’t want Khawlah to feel like my brother didn’t love her enough to show her who he was, despite what was happening to him. Because that’s what love was about. No matter what or why or how, to give to each other and receive and be absolutely unconditional in every way. That was love. That was what I wanted them to see.

And even if I never got to experience that kind of amazing love, I knew that with him and Khawlah, being there for each other would raise them to completely new heights.

”I’m not scared,” he said quietly, lifting his gaze to look at me.

I looked up at him as he said it, frowning as I realized that he was actually serious. He wasn’t?

His face was pensive again, and I knew that with Adam, no matter what, there was always something cooking in his active mind.

”I’m not scared for me, Rubes,” he said, in almost a whisper. “But I’m scared for you. Maybe for Khawlah. But more for you. I’m scared that you’ll crumble. I’m scared that if things have to take a turn for the worse… you might come crashing down. Just like how you want me to think about my future… I want you to consider yours too.”

”What do you mean?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him. “What future?”

”Your future,” he said obviously, with a glint of humor in his eye. “Love. Marriage. Maybe more kids, yeah…”

He grinned as he said it, while I widened my eyes at him.

More kids? Clearly that Cannabis oil was having other kind of effects on his brain.

”Adam,” I said, shaking my head at him. “It’s too soon. You can’t expect that from me.”

“Okay I’m kidding about the last part,” he said with a smile. “But it was worth a try. How’s about a deal, yeah? I’ll go ahead with my big move and I’ll help you to make yours?”

“What kind of deal?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at him suspiciously. I was half anticipating, yet half dreading his next words.

”Well, it’s kind of a secret,” he whispered mysteriously. “And you have to promise me that it will stay that way…”

I nodded silently as he opened the drawer next to his bed,  pulling out a pen and a notepad, and tossing it to me.

What I didn’t know was that there was a lot more to this little secret than he had let on. This little secret was going to be one that would open huge doors.

“My muscles are too tired to do any of this,” he said, looking at me with his eyes shining with excitement. “So I need you to start writing…”

---

Dearest Readers, 

A little bit of suspense but I’m trying to keep it as light-hearted as possible.

Hope everyone is having a good break and remembering that throughout our fun and holiday entertainment, we are Muslims first. ❤️

Safe Travels for those who aren’t around .

Much Love, 

A xx

Don’t forget our Sunnah this holiday! 

Umar ibn Abi Salamah said: I was a young boy in the care of the Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him), and my hand used to wander all over the platter (of food). The Messenger of Allaah (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said to me, “O young boy, say Bismillaah, eat with your right hand, and eat from what is directly in front of you.” 

(Narrated by al-Bukhaari, 5376; Muslim, 2022).

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

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Sins That Leave Scars

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

“You know,” Aadam said, watching me from the corner of his eye. “You never told me the story of Prophet Aadam…”

I gave my husband a tiny smile as we sat side by side, acquainted very well by now with his cunning ways to convince me to do something. My favorite kids had heard their uncle and were sitting on the rug expectantly. It was very evidently time for bed, and not just for the boys. Aadam was stretching his tired muscles as he yawned, leaning back against the couch with a small smile playing on his lips.

”I practically know that story by-heart…” I moaned, remembering the days when Danyaal used to make me read it, sometimes five times in one sitting.

”Just one time more time, yeah?” Aadam grinned. “For old times sake?”

The night had been fun, with popcorn and board games, but it had been a busy day. The last of the term, with way too many eventful happenings…

I knew exactly what Aadam was trying to do. He was trying to get me to be more involved with the kids, so I could forget the reality that I had just discovered. It was easier said than done…

”Please Khawlah-“ Danyaal started, packing away the blocks.

”Aunty Khawlah,” Aadam cut in smoothly, with one raised eyebrow. “That’s my wife you’re talking to.”

A huge grin crept on Danyaal’s face as he looked at us. He was such a wonderful child, that I couldn’t help but just adore him. Rubeena was so lucky to have been blessed with such a star… He barely fussed about anything, and he truly was one of those rare kids that shone out from the rest. He had even started Hifdh classes this term, and I was so, so proud of him.

And though Aadam was trying to teach his nephew a little thing called respect, I could imagine that if Foi Nani had witnessed this, she would have been horrified. For her, Aunties were ‘Foys and Kalas’. There was no way you could get away with the modern-day substitutes.

Aadam’s family, on the other hand, were not even remotely cultural. They used no Indian or other terms to address their elders. I mean, the kids called their granny Nona. It was too… English…

Fancy, Foi Nani would have said. I missed her. I wished she could have met Aadam.

“Aunty Khawlah,” Danyaal said, looking up at me with a tired smile. “Please can we have the story of Prophet Aadam (AS). We haven’t heard it in ages. And then.. we promise to sleep.”

“Hey,” Aadam said, narrowing his eyes threateningly. “Are you’ll trying to negotiate the sleep-time routine?”

I smiled. Of course they were.

”We promise,” Dayyaan said, sticking out his pinkie finger for Aadam to shake, and  nodding solemnly. His hair was falling over his eyes as he shook, and I stuck out my hand to brush it away.

Zia was mumbling something incoherently, as he lay on the carpet, fiddling with two blocks that he was holding, barely even aware of what he was doing awake.

They were all such characters, and yet,  were all so unbelievably connected to my heart…

”One story, and you’ll better sleep,” Aadam was warning them, as he leaned forward. “Else the bedtime monster is coming to catch you’ll.. and it’s not going to be fun..”

”Don’t scare them,” I rebuked him gently. But they were far from afraid. They knew their uncle too well…

As Aadam leaned forward to crawl onto the rug, his infamous tickle monster being the highlight of their before-bedtime routine. They were in stitches as they giggled away, loving the mixture of pure happy time and drunken tiredness. I loved to watch them. It almost cheered me up completely. Almost.

I watched my playful husband with his nephews as he eventually read them their story, knowing that I wasn’t in the mood to do it. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed someone else reading, though, that night. I was in my element as I listened to his easy voice, closing my eyes as the words glided into each other, almost in a calming rhythm. Aadam really did sound like a poet… His voice was gentle, yet firm, and I knew that if given the choice I would sit there and listen for hours.

Since I was so crazy about reading myself, I had a hunch that his calm mannerism was enough to put the boys into the most peaceful frame of mind. It helped him to put them to bed, and as he read their Kalimahs and Duaas for them softly, when we emerged from the room a few minutes later, they were already hopelessly knocked out.

I grasped Aadam’s hand gently as we retired the balcony bench, hoping to enjoy the city lights and the warmth of the early Autumn night. At night, the city lights were so vivid, that staring into them sometimes made me feel like I was in some sort of daze. It was stunning.

“Give me a smile, beautiful,” Aadam said softly, swinging his arm around me as my body involuntarily stiffened.

I physically slumped my shoulders, trying to alleviate the tension I was feeling, but Aadam wasn’t buying it. He pulled his arm away and leaned forward to look me in the eye, his dark lashes now even more noticeable in the dim light, as he frowned.

“Are you still thinking about Hannah?”

I breathed in momentarily as I closed my eyes, almost wishing that today wasn’t real. Hannah. She was so much on my mind… and I didn’t even know how to get it to stop.

Aadam sighed, as he looked away.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, swallowing worriedly as he placed his hand over mine. “After all this time… coming here and then giving you her sad story…”

I knew what he meant, but for some weird reason, I felt responsible for her. We had spent a good amount of our childhood under the same roof… in the same space… within the same boundaries. With the same crazy mother-figure. Only, she had it a little worse, because there was no getting rid of your real mother…

Aadam was waiting outside when I arrived, and as soon as I saw him, I could see a mixture of relief and worry in his eyes.

And of course, as I locked eyes with this girl that had been my sworn nemesis for almost a decade, I couldn’t help but feel a little obliged to give her a hearing.

”I came to talk,” Hannah said. “I remember Rubeena showing me once where her brother lived… and I took a chance by coming here. I wanted to try and fix some of it.. I know I used your name and I made your life a bit miserable…”

”A bit?” I said incredulously. I was a bit shocked that she was so… open.

“Okay, a lot.”

Responsibility was a hard pill to swallow, but I was honestly a little wary of her. I wasn’t sure what her intentions were, as she sat on Aadam’s couch and watched me with that unreadable expression she had often wore.

“Why did you do it?” I asked her. I was hoping to break that wall that she had built around her. I was hoping to see some sense in her madness.

”Does it really matter?” she said, looking at me with a frown.

“It does,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her.

“I don’t know,” she said finally, her expression still emotionless. “That house. Your father. It was nice, okay? Everything felt so much better. I wasn’t sure what it is about you, Khawlah, but everyone just seems to like you without you even trying. I always felt it was so unfair.”

What did you even say to that? When someone openly confesses that they were obsessed with making your life a misery? 

She sighed, and I looked over at Aadam who was sitting down at the corner couch behind us, head down and listening intently without a word. He had refused to let me talk to her alone. I could tell that he didn’t trust her,

“Anway, I’m here because I need help,” she said, looking a little unsure of herself now, for the first time I could ever recall. “My mother doesn’t really care. All she cares about is making other people’s lives a misery, as you know. You’re married and you can help me to get headway with re-adoption.. And I know I don’t deserve it but I mean it when I say that I don’t have much time left. I’m trying to change. In rehab we did a lot of tests and stuff… turned out I contracted HIV somewhere along the way…”

She said it with a nonchalant shrug, and as I met her gaze, I felt like I was in limbo. My heart kind of seized in my chest as I realized what a huge mess Hannah had got herself into.

“Binge parties,” she said, looking a tad bit ashamed as I gaped at her. “No-one really cares whose needle they using. You get so caught up in the high…”

And although she tried to portray that she didn’t care, when I glimpsed at her.. at her frame that was so delicate and her sunken cheeks that seemed to have no life in them… within the hollows of her eyes I could see something that I never saw in Hannah before. Something that she was trying so hard to hide, but was desperately failing to.

Fear. It was so ironic, because it was the one thing that had given her courage to come out here today. Fear was the fall that was lifting her back up… and somehow, that fear was bringing her closer to a reality that she had never known before…

Fear. Fear can cripple us. When we give precedence to bounties, things and people who take over our heart, the fear of losing it consumes us. Soon, what was once a gift becomes a weapon of torture and a prison of our own making. We wish to become free… And at times, in His infinite mercy, Allah frees us…by taking it away. By taking away a gift that we had taken as a right.
As a result of it being taken, we turn to Allah wholeheartedly. In that desperation and need, we ask, we beg, we pray. Through the loss, we reach a level of sincerity and humility and dependence on Him which we would otherwise not reach—had it not been taken from us. Through the loss, our hearts turn entirely to face Him.

Through the fear of loss… sometimes we gain so much more.

Hannah was afraid. So afraid of losing everything, including her life.

And as she spoke, I was visibly taken aback by her words. And then of course, I couldn’t help but think when asked for help with it… after all this time… why did she even want her daughter back? If she wasn’t well, was she even capable of looking after her… and for how long?

And as I sat with my husband that night, I tried to make sense of the things that had evaded me. How do people even end up so… lost? It just seemed so brutal…

“People survive for quite a while on ARV’s,” he said seriously. “Like for years…”

”Really?” I said, feeling a bit better. “So she’s not going to die like right now?”

Aadam smiled.

“Only Allah knows,” he said realistically. “But with the medical technology these days… if it’s HIV, she’s still got a chance of living normally…”

My heart was still pounding in my chest. It was like all hope had evaded me today.

Somehow, she had ended up with a raw deal when it came to a role model, but didn’t she make a choice? So many sins… leaving so many scars…

I thought about Mama… about my own mother. About how her love had exceeded every mark. Though I had known her for such a short time of my lifetime, like a fleeting moment of wonder, her compassion and sincerity in whatever she had conveyed to me in that time was unforgettable.

And then, as Khalid crossed my mind.. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have become of me if I had no friends back then to keep me grounded. What I would have done without that beautiful and rare love had moulded me into someone who could see the beauty in everything my Creator had blessed me with, instead of dwelling on the loss.

And then there was Nusaybah. How amazing was it that she had come into my life from nowhere, breaking down those barriers that I had built and helping me to glimpse the magic of rainbows and laughter, that I had closed my heart off to, all that time…

And now, I looked at Aadam, as he gazed at me as if I was the only person in his world. His love had come like a hurricane… with such ferocity that had lifted me to the most amazing heights, opening my heart, not just to a love I never felt before, but to a world of goodness and gratitude and amazement that I would be forever in awe of…

And of course, I could never forget, the One Constant. No matter what. No matter who. He was always there. He remained. He had got me through it all, through every person that He had placed along my path. I could almost still hear Mama’s voice saying it.

When they slept, He was awake. When they broke, He carried you. When no one else was there, He was. He remained. He always remains. Remember that always, Khawlah. Remember that. Remember Who you owe everything to. 

Gratitude is King. Always was and always will be.

“It’s amazing,” Aadam voice said, breaking into my thoughts as he watched me. “Where I came from… and how much I have… and I keep thinking that we’re okay for now, but I’ve seen people losing their Imaan in front of me, Khawlah. And to them they may believe that they found something better, but to me… They’ve lost everything that matters. Sins are something like quick sand… And once you get stuck, it’s so hard to pull away. How are we even deserving of being saved from that kind of life? Somehow.. I managed to scrape through, yeah? And I cant even be grateful enough…”

”I know,” I said quietly,  leaning back against Aadams outstretched arm, as I thought about what he just said. “I know I shouldn’t be judging her… but I just can’t understand one thing… How did she just let her baby go.. and continue with that life? Having a kid should have put a lot into perspective for her.”

Aadam shrugged.

“When people have issues, they don’t really think at all,” he said. “Maybe she was trying to do the right thing?”

”Maybe,” I murmured. “It’s just so irresponsible. People do that stuff all the time… and an innocent child gets involved. Drugging, partying, irresponsible behavior… and they fall pregnant and give their kids away or have abortions because they can’t handle it… It’s brutal..”

Aadam shifted as I looked up at him. His expression had altered and I could see feel his body tense up next to me as he looked ahead.

“Some people don’t have a choice in the matter,” he said, a flicker of something unrecognisable in his eyes.

“I think most people do,” I argued pointedly. “Having kids… well, it doesn’t happen by itself! You make a choice and you deal with the consequences. If you are grown up enough to do it, you have to man up and face it! There’s not much else to it.”

”Khawlah,” he said, swallowing as he looked at me, albeit nervously, as he got up. “I get your point… but it’s not always black and white…”

”Please Aadam,” I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at him. “What would you do? Like really? Would you ever just throw your child away?! ”

Of course, it was a rhetorical question, but he looked at me steadily as I asked it, almost like he was thinking about what to say. He clasped his hands together nervously, tentatively sitting down on the single seater opposite me, and met my unwavering gaze.

“Hypothetically?” he said softly, and I narrowed my eyes at him slightly. “Or for real?”

“What?!” I said, completely confused.

“You really want to know, Khawlah?” he almost whispered, searching my eyes fervently. “And you wont get angry?”

“You’re kidding, right?” I breathed, my voice shaky, as he looked back at me.

I didn’t doubt that Aadam had a past. When I first saw him, in all his teenage glory, I could see just what type of guy he was. That was why I probably wouldn’t have touched him with a ten-foot pole. He was different back then, and I probably wasn’t the first girl that had ever caught his eye..

Aadam’s face remained expressionless. My heart pounded in my chest as he gazed back at me.

“There was one particular girl,” he started, and I sat at the edge of my seat with bated breath. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know this, but there was no going back now. He had already spoken too much. “ I knew her for a few years. Pretty well. We were… well…”

“Oh,” I said, swallowing hard at the revelation. I wasn’t stupid. I knew exactly what he meant.

And that’s when he said it. That’s when he broke to me the news that broke my world.

For the second time that day, I felt like my heart had just seized in my chest. Literally. I honestly felt like I could not breathe. I couldn’t even speak.

His chest heaved slightly as he said it, and my own words had caught indefinitely in my parched throat. He slumped over in relief, as if a weight had been lifted off his burdened shoulders… and now, transferred directly onto mine…

How could he be so selfish?

“I can see it’s a shock,” he murmured, reaching out for my hand from where he sat. “I’m sorry, gorgeous…”

I pulled away at his touch. I mean, really? He tells me something that will crumble my world, and then he expects everything to be okay? 

“A shock?” I said, breathing in with much effort. “You think it’s a shock? Aadam, do you have any idea what this means?”

Aadam looked up, his eyes ridden with guilt. Guilt and absolute regret. Here I was, all this time, thinking Aadam was being considerate by giving me time to adjust to married life… when in reality, he was holding back for his own selfish reasons… Because he couldn’t stomach his own sins. Sins that had left scars so deep, that their effects had shot even to the depths of my own heart…

“I know,” he said softly, his entire frame looking defeated as he stared back at me in desperation. “And I should have explained this a long time ago… I was scared..”

My heart was feeling like it was being torn apart. Bit by bit. Piece by piece….

“A girlfriend, I expected,” I said, my voice steady as I spoke. “Maybe even more than one… But this, Aadam…This is not a small thing. It’s not about liking cheese on my burger, or whether I prefer hot chocolate with milk… or even about sugar in my coffee…”

”I’m sorry, Khawlah,” he said again.

”These are big things,” I continued, my voice getting a little louder as I pointed at him accusingly. “Things you tell people when they marry you..! It’s things you tell people when you fall in love with them and give them your everything… These are things that you say when you’re sitting together and getting to know each other.. things you say before they become a huge issue… like what’s happening right now!”

”Khawlah, please, you’re not being reasonable. All this is in the past-“ he started, edging towards me.

”I need to go,” I said angrily, grabbing my bag and getting up. “Please call Ahmed to fetch me. I’ll wait downstairs.”

“You can’t wait downstairs alone. It’s not safe.”

“I’ll wait inside,” I said stubbornly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Khawlah, I can’t let you leave like this,” he begged. “You’re upset. Please, love… Don’t go…”

“Please understand. I need to be alone,” I said softly, my eyes pleading with his in mutual desperation.

It was a rare moment when we both just stood there, staring at each other, for the first time ever… with nothing else at all left to say…

And to respect my wishes, as he always did, Aadam stood there in forced silence, with a bleeding heart as he watched me walk away. My own insides felt like a series of daggers had penetrated their fore, as I tried to figure out why this terrible pain was one like I’ve never experienced before.

Unreasonable? No. I wasn’t being unreasonable. I was being realistic.

Yes, some things were not always black and white. Good people do bad things. Mistakes happen. People mess up. Everyone has their own battles, and this was just one of mine.

Tears stung my eyes as I practically floated down the stairs, silently praying fervently, aching for my Lord to get me through this one unscathed.

Unscathed.

Unscarred. 

I gave my heart away,

In Your way, Allah,

I beseech Your Aid for one last battle,

Oh, Healer of Hearts… 

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Dear Readers,

A bit of a longer post because I’m writing next week so will be a bit crazy. Please do remember me and all those who are writing in Duaas…

Love to hear from the readers . 

Much Love,

A xx

 

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

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

 

FB: The Journeying Muslimah

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#revivetheSunnahofDrinkingWater 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

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#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

When the Plot Thickens

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Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Khawlah

“Khawlah, wait.”

Typical.

Now that I give him a piece of my mind, he has time for me? His voice did sound weird though. Unusual. Was he ill?

Either way, he very well had deserved it. He was being ridiculous. Sitting in the house like a recluse for weeks… not even stepping out to enjoy the beauty that the Spring had brought since its inception that year.

Of course, it wouldn’t be Spring if we didn’t take the annual stroll through the neighbourhood, to embrace the onset of our favourite season. Each year had a different splendour. Every tree had a different story to tell.

I could not possibly explain the thrill that it gave me to witness the revealing of nature’s magic as winter came to a close. The array of pretty purples, pinks, blood reds and determined yellows… It was almost like each tree was competing with the next… flaunting their amazement in doses of mesmerizing beauty…

It had been our tradition from August every year since I was six, to witness Mother Nature’s surprising bounties. To go out and start planting… investing… observing the wonders that the new season had for us every year.

This year, though… Zilch. Not even a batting of an eyelid from Khalid.

“Khawlah, I’m coming.”

I walked faster as I heard his footsteps behind me, not even pausing to take in the lilac, purple and white flowers that had so miraculously appeared on the bush at the entrance of his house. Yesterday, today, tomorrow’s… they change with each day and then eventually… welt and decay…

How ironic. Just like Khalid.

The almost silent patter of raindrops were breaking my stride as I edged forward, blinking angrily as I wiped the droplets out of my blurry eyesight.

“Khawlah!”

I was actually quite furious right then.  I had only asked him to give me a walk to the corner and he had point blank refused. It was the third time this month he had given me a silly excuse and now… Now, I was done. Stuck with his stupid PlayStation, as usual.

I stepped with purpose out of the garden gate, marching on toward the task at hand. I didn’t need a silly boy to look after me, just to go down the road. I was already eleven years old! I mean, I was almost as tall as him. I could do anything a boy could do and more.

And of course, in my furious pursuit of showing him that I didn’t need his company, despite the fact that passing the notorious ‘Purple House’ alone to go to the tea room down the road for Foi Nani was giving me the creeps… I was completely oblivious to reality. Clouded by anger, I sttepped off the pavement as I had done so many times in the past, not even thinking twice until I heard his panicked voice.

“Khawlah…!” 

All I heard was the unprecedented alarm as he shouted out, just before an offensive squealing of halting tires gripped me with fear. It was as if the wind was completely knocked out of me as I found myself flat on my back, gazing up at the filtered sun in my eyes, trying to ascertain what I had gotten myslef into. The rain was still pelting down relentlessly, amidst it all. And ouch, my leg… it was like it had a dead weight on it. What on earth had happened?

I felt a weight shift off me as Khalid moved over onto the pavement, now sprawled out next to me, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as his breathing slowed down.

“Khawlah, what the hell is wrong with you?!”

He muttered, twisting in pain, gripping his arm with force as he moved away from me even more. It was a mere millisecond of confusion before I digested what exactly had occurred. It was the first time I had seen Khalid so angry.

Silly me. Crossing the road without even looking. I wasn’t even sure how Khalid had got to me so fast.  If he had not knocked me out of the way with that incredible maneuver… even with the car swerving the way it did, I knew I would have probably been hurt really badly. Now, instead…

I blinked as I glimpsed the imminent  gushing from his arm, smudging almost characteristically as the rain pelted down to diminish its evidence. Blood. So much of blood…  soaking into the side of Khalid’s teal blue t-shirt, running from his upper arm all the way down to his wrist. My thick corduroy  pants had saved me from any serious wounds, but as Khalid had used his body to cushion my own fall… his arm had been practically skinned alive.

“Oh shucks,” was all I said I saw it. swallowing hard as I saw his stony expression. He had saved my life. Literally. And no matter how dumbfounded I was by his super-hero move… Khalid’s expression was undoubtedly thunderous.

“Are you crazy?!” He yelled, his steely eyes looking even more fierce as they clouded over with anger . “You could have died!”

The droplets of rain had slowed down to a mere drizzle and I blinked at him in surprise. His gaze altered, as he stared at me, still gasping for air.

It was the magic of adrenaline. He knew what he needed to do, and somehow in that extreme pressure…

“I can’t believe you,” he rebuked now, shaking his head in frustration. “If something had to happen to you, Khawlah…. I don’t know… I would have never been able to… I…”

He trailed off as he took a deep breath, his steely eyes searching mine almost to the depths of my now tormented soul. Why did it feel like Khalid was bearing a huge burden on his broadened shoulders?

I looked at him, a little disorientated. I mean… Khalid had always been protective. Caring, at times too. Charming and appreciative … when he felt like it. 

In the past, a small delight at an extra toss of the dice in Monopoly would get him grinning from ear to ear.

“Ah Khawlah, you know how I love you.”

And of course, that didn’t mean anything. It was innocent. Conditional. In the moment.

Now… now was unexpected. This emotion was so… raw.

I looked at him as he broke his gaze away, getting up almost as if he was in a rush to get away from me. He had grown taller… become less awkward. He looked so much older… Almost grown up. His ruffled hair was thicker and his grey eyes seemed colder. I watched him as he stretched out his arm and squirmed in pain, flexing his developing muscle involuntarily.

When did Khalid grow up?

He was barely thirteen… yet he looked like a young man, all of a sudden.Those childish giggles… the boisterous fun… the endless games… was it really so long ago? Why was I feel like I was looking at another person completely?

And I got it. I got that we weren’t the same people we were back then. We had changed… we had grown. Goodness, we even looked different. But nonetheless… Not so long ago … we were just a pair of kids, playing hop-scotch beneath blossoming jacaranda trees and scurrying around in the pelting rain.

Not so long ago, we would compete to get to the highest branch of the infamous oak tree and let our imaginations run wild as we contemplated vivid dreams for the oh-so-distant future. Just the other day, I could speak my heart with no reservations. I could relate to him what I wanted from a life that seemed so far away. I could reveal my hopes and dreams for the future… and not only would he listen, but he would make me believe that it all would come true. And at that point… though we were just a pair of kids… And I knew how much we  meant to each other… I just didn’t know how much it could change.

And yes, it did change. After that day… it changed a lot. I never strolled in to call for him out after that. I never rapped on his room window in annoyance like I usually would. I stayed at a good distance if I happened to see him… because I knew the danger if I didn’t. Things were different. I didn’t want to accept it… but after that day… I had felt it too. Now I believed him… and now I knew that he needed to leave.

And yes, Ahmed was right. Of course, Aunty Radiyyah had a point. Maybe we were getting too old to just be friends. Boys and girls… well… they simply couldn’t be friends. Maybe we just did it all wrong. Back then, there was so much of Khalid in my heart… in every moment… every new blossom…every changing of season… even after a long while.. that I simply couldn’t just forget.

But that’s what the job of the heart is. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been warned. Something had stirred within it, and it needed to be filtered. The beholder of the most unseemly emotions sometimes buries them so far down… that it is almost as if there were never there. The heart hurts, and likewise, as it comes to feel more, break more, it also opens more… and so too, it heals.

And the remembering that incident after all those years, well… it brought on unexpected emotions. Not overwhelming ones… but ones that were quite thought-provoking, now that I saw it from a different perspective. I could not even imagine how subtly Allah saved me… that I didn’t even realize that I might have been in danger.

And of course, I couldn’t help but be grateful. As kids we think we know everything. Even as we grow up.

We think ‘Ah, shame… What’s the harm? They used to play together as kids. Let them be.’

But had we not been forced to know better… had Aunty Radiyyah not been any wiser… had Khalid’s father not sent him away.. who knew what kind of sin might have developed? Who knew what saving Allah had in mind for us when everything had unfolded just like it did. He foresight of parents who were wise and aware of the harms of ‘emotions’.. even at a younger age… was invaluable.

And of course, its so weird how when you are kids you think things will never change… and when you grow up how you can’t imagine them to be anything but different…

“Wow!”

Nusaybah was visibly blown away as she looked at me, a little dumbstruck by my narration that I had just literally poured out to her, as we sat over our Life Science assignment… discussing everything but the difference between DNA and RNA.

”So Khalid just needed a push?!” She murmured, raising her eyebrows. “And he would have been a complete goner?”

I smiled and shrugged.

“Khalid was right,” I said blandly. “He was staying away for a reason. Probably his parent’s instructions. Either way, he knew why he was doing it. It was me that had been so childish and pushy… wanting him to stay the same when he obviously wasn’t. I can’t believe what a feisty thing I had been back then… so pushy.. gosh.”

Of course, I never doubted the wisdom of elders. Elders by default,  had seen more, experienced more.. and as a result, it’s precisely that which lead to their wisdom. When the youth don’t know any better, we have to trust the elder generations insight.

”So… what did Ahmed say about him?” Nusaybah asked, doodling away on the exam pad pointlessly, trying to seem like it was just a ‘by the way’ question.

“Ahmed thinks he’s involved in Egyptian politics,” I said, a little wearily. “He’s a bit scared for him… and rightfully so. Egypt is  in a delicate situation right now, after the Arab spring… but his mothers family is from there so I think he feels responsible..”

I could go on about politics for ages, but I doubted that Nusaybah was very interested.

”But what did Ahmed say about you and Khalid?” Nusaybah pressed, not wanting to know the finicky details that were giving me sleepless nights. I knew she wanted the gory details.

Khalid was always an ambitious guy. Scarily ambitious, and I was getting worried for him too.

Anyway, eventually, that night when Ahmed nearly gave me a heart attack, he did believe me when I told him we were just kids having innocent fun… I didn’t tell him every detail, but he seemed satisfied… Well, for now.

“I’m not sure what my silly brother thought,” I said, rolling my eyes. “He said Khalid seemed a bit unsettled when he mentioned to him that I was married… like he had no idea. And that’s what I don’t understand because I remember asking Aunty Radiyyah to request his presence at my Nikah. She had said that he wouldn’t make it. He was probably already in Egypt. I don’t know why she didn’t tell him at all…”

”Ooh, and the plot thickens …” Nusaybah said in a mysterious voice, widening her eyes as she grabbed her purple pencil case to morph it into a microphone.

“And here we are folks,” she bellowed, in a californian accent. She was disturbingly good at it. “… Khawlah, the sought-after warrior hijaabi turned to marshmallow royalty is caught up in a rollercoaster of emotions, as the past comes back to sweep her off her cerise-pink converse-clad feet.”

Hijaabi warrior turned marshmallow? No man.

I was already in stitches.

“But wait! Hold up!” She yelled, gaining more momentum. “There’s a knight in shining Kurta already at her doorstep, on one glimmering knee.. begging her to give him her entire heart…

Her voice dropped.

“But her shattered heart is burdened… she is still struggling to find -“

”Oiy!” I said, whacking her with the back of my paperback book. “My heart is already surrendered. Shurrup.”

“So no regrets?” She said now, baring her dimpled smile as she raised her eyebrows at me. “Even with the mother-in-law from Hell? You know you would have got a better deal in that department with Khalid’s?”

I smiled, thinking of Aadam. He was lovely. Absolutely amazing. Kind to everyone he met. Not to mention, hilarious to the point of embarrassing giggles. How could I ever have any regrets?

“You have that look again,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Is Mr Perfect really so perfect? I find it easy to believe… but I’m not the one married to him…”

She said it easily, with no malice in her voice, but I couldn’t help but feel a little stab of that old guilt.

”What about morning breath?” She asked suddenly, her eyes widening in shock. It was like she just had an epiphany. “Is it really bad? And does he throw his dirty socks in a corner and expect you to pick it up?”

She gasped as her hand flung to her mouth.

“Oh my word, Khawlah,” she breathed. “Does he snore?!”

I grinned at my crazy friend.

“I actually don’t know,” I said nonchalantly. “I have the perfect marriage. I don’t have to deal with that… yet.”

”What?!” She said, incredulous. “You mean you really never stayed with him?”

I shrugged again, as she eyed me out, feeling a teeny bit uncomfortable.

”That was the deal when we got married,” I explained to her. “That we would be apart and give Rubeena a chance to hold that amazing function she had her heart set on… when we eventually moved in after next year…”

“Yes, but no- one really sticks to that,” she said pointedly. “Like, I mean, my cousin had done the same thing but they were literally staying together every weekend.  You’ll are in Nikah… it’s unnatural to be so … strong.”

I looked away, not wanting to get into this.

“Oh my word, Khawlah,”  she said, and I was already regretting this conversation.

“Don’t  you think there’s something wrong with him?” She finally breathed, her eyes almost out of her sockets.

I rubbed my temples and shook my head. Nusaybah was making me worried too now. Was it really normal for a guy to be so… restrictive? What if he did have a deep and dark secret? I almost didn’t want to know what she had to say next.

“Khawlah,” she finally said, her voice almost a whisper. I swallowed hard as I thought of all the possible theories. And then of course, Nusaybah’s one literally cracked me up.

“What if he’s a vampire?”

And of course, I was in fits of giggles when she said it, wondering if my friend was for real. Of all the things that he could be… A vampire? Really?

Nusaybah took the tea.

And yet, I loved her unreservedly.

“You know what my mum used to say?” She said suddenly, her eyes now devoid of the usual humour.

Nusaybah didn’t often talk about her mother. Come to think about it… neither did I.

“She used to say that Allah’s plans for us are always more beautiful than our own wishes.”

I looked at her, rendered speechless. Aunty Radiyyah had always said it too.., but in Arabic.  It was something she’d often tell me when I was struggling with Mama’s passing… helping me to stay afloat. And how true it was… even today. What I thought would happen and what Allah had planned… most certainly, there was an immense beauty in His plan.

The truth was, as human beings, we are created with an innate desire to love. To love and be loved. But another nature… Fitrah… that exists with us is the desire to recognize the One who created us… and the One who created Love.

And the thing about true love… is that it serves to bring these two beautiful aspirations together. It connects them in such a way, that on every level over, between and beyond those two great attachments… you are completed. Real love brings calm… not torment. Pure love, at the end of the day, is the love that never contradicts or challenges your love for Allah. It’s simply strengthens it.

How did I explain to her that a perfect love wasn’t about having a perfect spouse? How did I tell her that every person was beautiful… and it just took the right person to see it? That Mr Right was not only the one who caught your eye… but the one who opened your mind.

And that is why, if anyone ever has to has to ask… there is a extraordinary answer as to why love cannot exist before marriage. Pure love can only be love, when it is within the sanctity of what Allah created for it. Pure love can only be that which makes the Creator of Love happy with you too.

I wished Nusaybah to find the most amazing person, when the time was right…  I wished her all the happiness for her own fairy tale ending.

And of course, as the shrill ring of the phone brought us back to reality, I couldn’t help but think of how far I had come since those days. Through so many people Allah had placed in my path… and now through a love that had fulfilled me in many, many ways…

”Its Rubeena,” Nusaybah said suddenly, thrusting the phone at me with force. “She’s in tears…”

---

Dear Readers

Quick q: just needed some input.. As the story progresses. Any thoughts on a posting schedule? I feel weekends are busy so weekdays may be better? Or maybe a weekend evening?

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Much Love,

A 🌸

Sunnah Reminder:

Nawas ibn Sam’an reported that the Prophet of Allah, SAW, was asked about doing good and evil. He replied, “Doing good is having good manners. Doing evil is what troubles you inside and what you would not like others to know about.”

May Allah help us be of the best character and manners for our families, friends and all people around us.

Let’s revive this Sunnah Insha Allah.

IG: @thejourneyingmuslimah

How easy to practise!

#revivetheSunnahof Sleepingearly

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq

 

#missionsunnahrevival 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak

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All Exposed

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

It was one of the awkwardest and longest few seconds, as we sat on the white leather three-seater, contemplating what to do next.

Sit here indefinitely? Leave? Or find out exactly was going on?

I weighed the choices in my mind, deciding on the most Zee-type of thing to do. Obviously, if I had to leave now, I wouldn’t know the juicy story behind this whole meeting. I would have no idea how this dramatically impressive Maulana Dude knew my brother’s wife. Was there a deep, dark secret somewhere in the works?

I got up, ignoring Waseem’s obvious ‘don’t you dare’ stare, and followed the other three down the passage.

What else could I do? I couldn’t help myself. I had an inquiring mind.

I could hear voices, and made my way to them, knowing that I was probably going to get a lot of my unanswered questions answered. Well, I hoped.

I stood back before the half-open doorway, able to see both my brother and that ‘Umar’ dude outside the bathroom door of the guest room.

“Aasiya, please come out,” Muhammed was begging, looking completely stressed.  Maulana Dude was sitting back on the bed, chin in his hand, looking like he was probably going to be stuck there for a while.

I stifled laughter, finding the whole scene hilarious.

Muhammed turned around after a few unsuccessful attempts, looking almost accusingly at Maulana Dude.

“Listen,” Maulana Dude started, getting up slowly. “I didn’t mean to-”

Muhammed didn’t give him a chance. I could see his ears changing colour. Kind of like what happens to my father when a deal goes wrong.

“What?!” Muhammed snapped. “You didn’t mean to what? What is going on here, bru? How do you even know my wife?”

Maulana Dude looked down, and I could see him thinking about his next words.

“I’m sorry.”

The statement was flat compared to Muhammed’s. He sounded defeated, and started looking toward the open doorway. I slunk back, not wanting them to see me.

In all fairness, though, Maulana Dude didn’t even do anything. Aasiya was the one who caused the drama, and now he was getting the slack. The most amazing part was that he didn’t even refute Muhammed’s words. It was like he just accepted that he was wrong. No argument.

And it wasn’t because he didn’t want to cause a fight. I doubt that it was because he was worried about Muhammed’s reaction to him if he had to say anything back. It definitely wasn’t that, because I was sure that this guy wasn’t afraid of much.

That day was a day that I learnt one of the biggest lessons of my existence. Humility. It never fails. It always raises you.

The Prophet, sallallahu alayhe wa sallam, has said: “He who is humble for the sake of Allah by a degree, Allah will elevate him one degree, until he reaches the highest degrees and he who is arrogant toward Allah, Allah will lower him one degree until he reaches the lowest of low degrees” (Bukhari).

And it was amazing how it held so true. How it all worked out. For the pious people, I was sure, everything just seemed to come together that much quicker for them. There was no mistaking that Muhammed was immediately regretful, as he spoke again.

“How do you know her?” He said, gesturing for Umar to sit, sounding much calmer than before.

Maulana Dude rubbed his temples, still standing, staying silent for a at least a minute.

“She’s my sister,” he said, almost like he couldn’t believe it himself.

I couldn’t help myself. Just when I thought that life was settling into something less bumpy, another curve-ball gets thrown in. And now, I found myself wondering… Did Aasiya have any other sisters?

“Idiot!” The voice said into my ear as I jumped, immediately pulling me back further into the hallway.

Waseem. Yoh. He gave me a fright.

“What?!” I said, spinning around in clear irritation.

Waseem was still pulling me backwards as I protested, determined to get me out of hearing range. It was super annoying, because I really wanted to see Muhammed’s reaction to that revelation.

It was like mind-boggling. Made me think that we honestly had no idea where on earth Aasiya came from. I mean, she could have even been like an axe murderer or a serial killer or something. We would have never known.

The questions were filling my head as Waseem continued to drag me with him, back into the lounge. I broke my hand free, rubbing it in the spot Waseem had gripped.

What a revelation. Who was she? Where was the rest of her family? Why did no-one know what happened to her? Like… Did they think she had just disappeared into thin air? The whole thing was so… So strange.

“He’s her brother,” I said, almost to myself.

“What?”

I knew Waseem had heard me. He just needed clarification. I gave him a look, just so he knew that I wasn’t going to repeat myself.

Now was Waseem’s turn to go into shock. He sat down, leaning forward on the recliner. He was pulling at his beard.

It was proper Sunnah style. This was no designer knock-off. I wish I realised earlier how important it was to actually keep the real thing.

“What..? But… But that’s not even possible…” Waseem was saying.

Poor Waseem. He looked completely confused. I shook my head at him. I mean, it wasn’t rocket science.

He looked up at me, weirdly, speaking again.

“His sister is supposed to be dead.”

Say what?!

Dead? Well, after what I’d heard, I wasn’t quite sure about that.

Now I was just as baffled as he was. This whole drama was like a soapie. And the last thing I needed was more drama in my upside-down life.

“They’re related?” He said again, completely disbelieving. “But…”

I got up at that point, leaving him to dwell on it. As for me, I didn’t have time to stick around and make more assumptions. I was sure the truth would come out at some point, and all would be revealed. Maybe tomorrow, when everyone could think properly, the truth behind everything would be all exposed.

Besides that, I had plenty of other stuff on my mind. I needed to sift and sort through the batch of consuming information that was occupying a substantial part of my thoughts.

The new discovery about Farah was really a shocker, but I could always use diversions to stop myself thinking about it. As I drove though, probably with the influence of my inner self and Shaytaan, my mind kept going back to ‘us’. To the parts that were somehow so clear in my mind. To the time we spent together. To every detail, including the smell of her perfume that was just so damn intense.

I sighed, pulling into a service station for cigarettes, since that was the only vice I had allowed myself to have.

Though my mind was boggled with all the new information, my senses were alerted as soon as I parked off, glimpsing a familiar face that I couldn’t immediately place. It was a pretty girl wearing a scarf, jumping off a tatty Toyota next to me. Another girl who was completely covered up jumped off next, followed by a kid, and as I caught a view of the driver of the car, I immediately realised who it was.

The ‘bombshell girls’ was the first name that came to my mind, and I crouched down slightly in my seat, hoping that they wouldn’t see me. I wasn’t sure if they would recognise me with the additions on my face, but I was taling no chances about it either way. I watched them, not yet thinking that I shouldn’t be, as they walked in and out quickly to buy bread, and found myself thinking one of the most unexpected things.

I suddenly reached an understanding that I never thought I would.

That, I realised, was what I had wanted in the girl that I had so thoughtlessly put all my hopes into. I remembered it as clear as day. That was exactly what I had wanted when I had looked at her that ‘morning after’, realising the true nature of everything that had come crashing down.

I had wanted a girl who would be only belonging to me… For no-one else to see. A girl who I could actually say was completely mine, without any fear of broken promises or half-hearted words. The type of relationship that wasn’t based on a lie, and wouldn’t just give me the type of satisfaction that was ‘just so temporary’.

It was truly a light-bulb moment.

That was it, I said to myself, suddenly awakening within myself. That was the gold.

And it was awesome how amazingly my religion had encompassed every one of these aspects so  effortlessly. That was exactly what Islam brought altogether. The beauty of Deen was never only half-way there. It brought together everything that had goodness in it so perfectly.

Honestly, now I fully understood when people spoke so passionately about this. I agreed completely now with people when I had them say: If the entire world lived by Islamic law, most definitely, this world would be a perfect place to live in.

It was like a door that had been closed all along was suddenly ajar, allowing me to glimpse into the flowing stream of sunshine that I was being shaded from all along. I understood the thirst that came with learning, and with wanting to know more. I now understood the fervour to embrace it, like I was a completely new person.

My mind was still racing as I went into the shop, consumed by these new realisations.

But Shaytaan is always one step ahead in his dealings, because in just a few minutes, I would be tested in a way that I had previously failed.

I grabbed a cold drink, making my way to the till to get my cigarrettes and pay. iPhone in hand, I browsed through Instagram, maybe engaging in a little bit of futile activity. I closed the application quickly and slid my phone into my pocket, reaching for my wallet as I reached the front of the queue.

“And a box of Dunhill Menthol,” I said, still checking for my card somewhere in my wallet.

Placing my stuff on the counter, it was only then that I looked up at the cashier, only to see a very familiar face practically staring back at me.

It was like re-living some of the worst days of my life, as I gazed back at her, completely unaware of myself.

Farah was standing next to the lady behind the counter, scrutinising me in a way that made me feel completely uncomfortable. Her penetrating gaze was unexpected, and I could just imagine the thoughts that occupied her mind. The attention she was giving me was less appreciated than before. I really felt all exposed, as I stood there.

The nagging question here, though, was: How was I going to handle this ordeal?

The easiest thing would have been to walk away, and just leave my stuff on the counter, but I was stunted. I didn’t expect her to say anything, but the words were out of her mouth quicker than I expected.

This was all wrong, I was telling myself. So wrong. 

I could practically hear my heart thudding away.

“Zee,” she said, in that oh-so-familiar tone.

I looked up again, momentarily.

“Gosh,” she said, sounding a little different now. “Is that really you?!”