Breaking Down

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 72

Just like I learnt the golden rule of thumb (ie. silence of the thumb is golden)… I also learnt that in certain cases, with certain people and circumstances… actual silence is also golden.

And now, I know very well that Nani never means to be the way she is. She is a force of nature but also an exceptional source of wisdom for our family, and even though we’ve had our fair share of ups and downs over the years, never in a million years have I ever thought of her as less than the caring grandmother who always wants what is good for us (even though we may often disagree).

She was who she was, and though there were times when she annoyed me and made me want to run away, I was taught by my parents that there was still no way I would ever trade her for a lesser version.

Respect. Always. I knew that it went a long way.

It was just that sometimes… just sometimes… she was a tad bit too much. Now and then, when Nani borders on break downs, she really does get a little all consuming.

”She said no.”

Nani was saying it to herself, almost like a mantra, as I watched her, shaking her head. She had already been through it about three hundred times with us, and now she seemed to be going through it with herself.

”She said no.”

On repeat. There were the words again. The ones that she was struggling to understand.

“I don’t understand, Mohsina,” she said, looking at me, now, a certain panic in her eyes, as she stared into a blank space. “Can you believe it? What I did wrong in my life to deserve this? How can Isthikhaarah be negative when the boy is so positive?!”

I wanted to snort with laughter but I meekly covered my mouth and held my piece as I watched Nani, and then switched my gaze to Hamzah, who was staring fixatedly at his phone, and I could tell that he was trying very hard to keep a straight face.

He kept an eye on Zaid who was rolling around on the floor next to him, chewing his teether erratically, looking like he wanted to bite its head off. His first tooth hadn’t popped as yet, but we were still checking every day. He kept stuffing his cute little fist in his mouth and there was no doubt that he was teething.

I, on the other hand, grabbed a dhikr counter and urged myself to profusely recite more Adhkaar. It was so true that Dhikr was a means of even preventing inevitable problems. Also, keeping my mouth closed was a recipe for success when it came to Nani.

Also, keeping quiet wasn’t my nature but I was feeling bad. I sighed as I watched her forlorn expression, shifting my gaze to the gloomy weather outside.

Seemed like Jameela was bringing the London weather back with her return, and though her return was much anticipated, I wasn’t exactly feeling the whole getting drenched while we pulled her countless bags out of the car idea. Though Jameela wasn’t a huge shopper, my mothers lists of Marks and Spencer favourites Maahira insisted she send back were something else.

”Nani, I think it’s for the better,” I said as I grabbed the teacup that had half a cup of murky coffee inside it.

With Jameela’s romantic notions about life, I really hoped that she could at least get somewhere close to that kind of love that built you and bonded you, and that can be your safe space and shelter. A love that not only was good for this world, but also carried through to the hereafter. I really wished so much more for Jameela than what Doc seemed to be able to give.

“What better?” She said snappily. “He is got a broken heart, poor chap. I don’t think it is possible that Jameela is thinking properly. Maybe something happened to her head in the plane. All that fitna air made her go mad.”

I suppressed another snort of laughter and took a chug of coffee as I watched my mother’s face expression change slightly, and she shot me a warning look. Hamzah was barely meeting my eye. The truth was, no one but Nani really liked Muneer.

I knew that Doc didn’t tickle Hamzah’s fancy either and Jameela refusing meant us saving him from a lifetime of having to make conversation with someone who he could never relate to.

”Rather now than she say no later,” my mother said weakly, as she checked the pots on the stove. “There will be someone better for her, you will see.”

”And for him also. So nice boy he is.”

Okay, so I added that as a second thought because I was trying to score brownie points with Nani, and sometimes these things were essential.

Nani shook her head disbelievingly, almost as if she was in shock that we could even suggest that.

“Mohsina, just come here one minute,” Nani said, flapping her dupatta around and taking a seat after a few seconds, the melodramatic expression appearing on her face, as she patted the small of her back. “Just massage here. On the top part. All this stress is giving me back ache and I can’t even sleep properly. Every night I am tossing and turning because how will I explain this kind thing at Khairoon’s house next week to all the ladies. Nevermind. How much I suffer for my grandchildren, Allah knows.”

I ignored the urge to roll my eyes. Shame, Nani’s social status was under threat. But it really was for good reason.

She had completely ignored our attempt to try and explain the beautiful phenomenon of Allahs plan is the best plan. That no matter what happened now, if they were meant to be, they would be.

She also seemed like she didn’t believe us when we said that there was Khair in everything. She was convinced that we were lying, and we just couldn’t let Jameela make a decision like that when everything depended on it.

She also kept sneaking me looks, as if she didn’t believe me when I said that I tried to tell Jameela to think carefully.

Of course I did (not).

Jameela was due to be back any minute and I could tell that Nani was getting all revved up for a full frontal assault. All I knew was that I was going to try very hard to protect my sister from whatever was in store.

My poor sister was probably dreading coming back home and I really did feel sorry for her.

The moment had arrived as the first drops of afternoon rain had decided to appear from the formidable sky, and everyone was already rushing around, trying to make sure that all bags and luggage could be brought in before the full downpour.

The weather matched the atmosphere almost perfectly, and seeing her, in actuality, as she jumped off the car and Hamzah had already went out to help my uncle with bags, was another feeling completely. I didn’t realise how much I had missed my sister these past few weeks until I saw her there in the flesh.

And as I followed behind, staying under cover as I watched her exit the car looking as pretty as a picture, even though she was probably exhausted, I couldn’t help but notice on her face the look of resignation.

Tiredness. It had to be. And of course she would be feeling that way. Jet lag was real, and that was completely expected.

“Zubair is coming for the bags,” my father said to Hamzah as I approached the car, watching as Hamzah pulled a suitcase out from the boot and greeted my uncle with a hug.

I knew Papa relied on Zubair to do all the physical work at home because of his health, but Hamzah was perfectly capable of doing it too. I supposed that he was so used to relying on Zubair that he sometimes forgot he had an actual son-in-law.

“It’s okay,” Hamzah said in reply, but I could already spot the familiar figure as he walked toward us with a rain jacket on, and my eyes instantly switched to Jameela as I watched her glance in his direction and then simultaneously turn away, and I couldn’t help but conceal my smile.

Today, for some reason, Jameela’s demure actions didn’t make me feel all that concerned. After finding out that Zubair was actually not a horrible guy, for some reason, the things that had worried me about the two of them seemed completely irrelevant now.

And as Hamzah pulled out a bigger bag and Zubair efficiently went to take it from him, along with a smaller one that was next to the car, I couldn’t help but notice something in Jameela’s  entire demeanour change.

And it wasn’t unexpected. I knew that there would be some sort of underhand back and forth, but what Jameela did next was completely out of the blue.

She had literally morphed from some coy teenage girl to an assertive young women who immediately stalked over to where they stood, mere milliseconds before Zubair could reach the bag in question. Her fully clad arm stretched out, snatching the bag handle out of his reach just as I caught his gaze linger on her for a few moments longer than necessary before he looked down.

”I got it, Papa,” she said flatly, glancing at my father, as Papa’s brow furrowed and Zubair instantly took a step back. “We don’t need his help.”

And with that, mouths slightly agape, Papa and I both just watched her wheel her bag through to the house, barely even knowing how to react, before I hastily followed right behind her, determined to figure out what on earth all that back there was all about.

That was weird. Not to mention, completely awkward.

It was so unlike Jameela that I could barely believe that she did that. It was so unlike her normally sweet and sensitive nature, that I could barely believe that this had actually happened.

Pure-hearted, considerate Jameela had come back from London in such a combative mood that I could barely believe it was her.

And as I watched her in her free flowing abaya and tightly wrapped hijab, enter the house, greeting my mother and Nani, briefly, I couldn’t help but shoot them a look to tell them to give her a break. Doctor and his broken heart was all by the way, because what was happening was what was making me a little unsettled.

I followed her as she made her way up to her room, wondering why she wasn’t even looking at me.

Two weeks away had made her a different kind of person, and I was still struggling to come to terms with it.

She had stomped up the stairs in a bit of a huff, and as I walked behind her, it took me a while to figure out that she was avoiding eye contact. Whatever had happened down there was completely intentional and I was going to get to the bottom of it, no matter what it took.

Jameela had pushed her room door open, tossed her smaller bag on the bed, and turned around before plopping herself on its edge.

”What’s wrong?”

I couldn’t help but ask. I could see that something was up. I mean, she barely even stopped to greet zaid. When Jameela ignored Zaid after weeks of not seeing him, something was definitely up.

“It’s stupid,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes briefly before shaking her head. “I’m stupid. Just don’t worry about it.”

”Jameela, you’re not stupid.”

My voice was soft and coaxing and it was all it took for the tears to start welling up in her eyes again. I wasn’t sure what was bringing it all on, but I knew that this was not just any normal reaction.

“Did something happen?” I asked, sitting down next to her as she fell back into the bed, almost in surrender, and covered her face with her hands.

”Y-you don’t want to know.”

Her voice came out all strained and muffled and I could tell that she was really uncomfortable about whatever she was going to say. It didn’t mean that I wanted to hear it any less. In fact, I now wanted to know more.

Something major had gone down and I now needed to know.

”Talk to me, Jamz,” I said soothingly, knowing that I had to be there for her. “What’s going on? You know everything happens for a reason. You’re not yourself, and it can’t only be the proposal causing all these weird emotions…”

I grinned at my sister, but she didn’t smile back.

Okay what on earth was up with her?

I looked at her enquiringly, tilting my head to the side as she took a deep breath as if she was going to say something big, and I was already all ears.

“You remember Nusaybah?”

Nusaybah.

Nusaybah. Mr Mujahid’s (aka Zubair) sister.

I looked at her, narrowed my eyes and nodded as she sat up and yanked her scarf off, revealing her hair that was tied up in a loose bun and stretched her slender neck.

Jameela was perfectly and naturally slim and I was sure she would stay that size her entire life.

“Zubair’s sister?”

I said it as naturally as I could. I only hoped that Jameela hadn’t taken things into her hands and gotten involved in something haraam. She knew better than that, but with temptation- you could never tell.

At the mention of Zubair, expectantly, her gaze faltered. I did expect that.

She took a deep breath.

”She wanted to ask him about what he would think about me,” she blabbered, and I focused on her a little more intently as she spoke. My poor sister was looking distraught, ans I was soon going to know why. “I don’t even know why… but she was convinced that Zubair may have been a little interested in me. And because she said it, well… I was stupid, okay? I got my hopes up too.”

Uh-Oh. I wasn’t sure if I liked the way things were sounding. Seemed liked these two girls were playing a matchmaking game. I stared at her, but remained silent as she continued.

“Anyway,” she said, sounding tired and embarrassed as she visibly flushed. “She told him that I may be interested. And I told Papa, because he suspected a while back… and I wanted him to know that Nusaybah was talking to her brother about me. It wasn’t anything official, it was just a little feeler to decipher what he felt…”

Oh no. Oh no oh no.

She wasn’t looking happy and that didn’t mean anything good. And then, it all just made sense.

Zubair was looking so awkward and out of place out there, especially when Jameela grabbed the bag and stomped off. It was all happening so fast and I wasn’t entirely sure what had gone down but I knew that it was something completely unexpected…

And now I understood. It was all crystal clear.

”He said no, Mos,” she whimpered softly, looking visibly stung by the outcome, as if she was reliving the moments that she heard of the first time. “He said no. I  mean, deep down, I knew that he wasn’t really interested but I thought that after Nusaybah had mentioned him, she may have had a better idea. I had already said no to Muneer at that point. I thought that everything about him seemed wrong because maybe Zubair was actually better for me.”

I was still digesting it. While Jameela was away in London, so much had happened in these past three days, and I was completely unaware of it.

“Anyway, it doesn’t matter,” she went on, shaking her head and sitting up. “Maahira said that maybe you were right. All my stupid dreams and fantasies. I’m not like you, Mos. Now I understand what you said before, about me waiting till I’m a bit older. I think I don’t know a thing about real life and marriage and I’m really am sworn off men for the next year at least. I cannot deal.”

Maahira? She spoke to Maahira about this. And she didn’t tell me. I was hurt.

”Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked her. I couldn’t believe all this that had gone down without knowing a thing.

“Mos, I knew you are dealing with so much yourself,” she mumbled, her eyes slightly misty again. “How can I trouble you with my stupid worries that aren’t even worth it. You have your in laws and Zaid and Rabia and plenty more to sort out…”

I breathed in, and the sting subsided a bit. Yes, had other things on my mind but Rabia had been quiet for a while and I was hopeful that things between us would return to normal. Rabia was the type to hold a grudge and though I didn’t make a huge effort to end the feud, I figured that her silence was a good sign.

My sister had a problem and I was hurt that she hadn’t confided me in me but I couldn’t quite imagine what she felt.

“Besides,” she said, taking a deep a breath in. “I’m not even worried because I’ve started reading this amazing Duaa. Nusaybah actually told me about it. You know the Duaa of Musaa AS? I was feeling completely down and depressed and it’s the only thing that got me through. I’m in so much of a better state than I was…”

رَبِّ إِنِّي لِمَا أَنْزَلْتَ إِلَيَّ مِنْ خَيْرٍ فَقِيرٌ

Rabbi innee limaaa anzalta ilaiya min khairin faqeer
“My Lord, indeed I am, for whatever good You would send down to me, in need.” (Surah Qasas, ayah 24)

I heard of it.

The recitation of this Du’aa was after Musa (as) was forced to escape from the city, into the desert, and headed towards Madyan.

After a long journey, Prophet Musa (as) came across a group of male shepherds who were watering their flock at a well. Keeping their distance, he noticed two women waiting in the back with their sheep. They felt it was safer to wait than to mix with the men who were gathered at the well.

When asked, they explained to Musa (as) that their father was an old man and unable to feed their flock, so they had to take on this duty. Now keep in mind that Musa (AS) himself was disheveled and exhausted from his travels, he likely did not have much to eat or to drink.

Still, he empathized with their situation, “So he watered (their flocks) for them; then he turned back to the shade…”(28:24) as he turned back to the shade he recited this du’a,

Rabbi innee limaaa anzalta ilaiya min khairin faqeer meaning, “My Lord, indeed I am, for whatever good You would send down to me, in need.”

Musa (AS) acted in an honorable manner to help these women in a foreign town amongst strangers. He prayed to Allah, asking him to provide more opportunities to do good acts like the one he just did. Also note, after having helped the women he did not stay and mingle, it says “watered (their flocks) for them; then he turned back to the shade”. Musa (AS) in this du’a also uses his state by saying that he is faqeer- meaning in dire need, or in poverty.

And through this Duaa Allah Ta’ala gave him so much more than just a home. He got food. He got provisions. He got a wife. A home. A family. Security. That was the blessing of that Duaa… that Allah gave so much more than just what was apparent to him at the time.

“I read it, Mos, and it’s like a calm descends on me,” she said with a certain kind of hope in her eyes. “And I’m okay. Really. I know I can trust Allah to reveal my story in the best way. I just have to avoid Zubair as much as possible. I don’t know how I can ever face him, and with him being here…”

It was going to be a difficult task to do forever, but she would get over it.

I wanted to hug her. I felt terrible for her. And I knew that I never liked him and always thought that he wasn’t good enough, but now I couldn’t help but feel insanely protective and want to break his legs for breaking her heart.

I really had no words for him! How could he say no? Without even meeting her, or even getting to know what she was about… Mister Mujahid made a decision based on nothing at all. As for Nusaybah, I wasn’t even sure what possessed her. I knew what rejection felt like and to see the hurt on my sisters face was like I myself was punched in the stomach.

“I’m so sorry, Jamz,” I said quietly, a cheeky smile creeping on my face. “If I knew earlier, I would have slashed the tires on his motorbike. I can still do it.”

I knew that I was being mean, but I was only trying to make her smile. And it worked.

”Please,” she said softly, the smile fading. “Just don’t do or say anything. It’s already so embarrassing.”

Poor Jameela.

I smiled sadly as I tried soothing her the best I could, letting her take a small nap as I went downstairs to tell Nani and my mother that she wasn’t feeling great.

My mother went to check on her too, but Nani was still looking completely out of steam, and I was kind of glad. After everything, she really didn’t need Nani telling her what a bad decision she had made by rejecting Doc.

I wondered if she regretted that part. I knew if I was in her position, I would, but Jameela wasn’t me. When she had her mind set on something, she was pretty one-tracked.

All I knew was that somehow, during this time, so much had happened that I couldn’t quite believe that I had no idea all this while.

And of course, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Even as we got home later that night, Zaid in his cute little car romper, almost asleep, as Hamzah helped me out of the car, it was all still racing through my mind.

Why did Jameela let Nusaybah do it, if she wasn’t almost sure that he felt the same way? Did she just feel pressured? Was it something she just wanted to strike off her list? Or was there some reason that Zubair had actually said no. The way he looked at Jameela… well, I knew that I was no expert but I could definitely tell that something more than awkwardness was in his gaze as he watched her match back to the house.

But maybe not quite.

I shook my head and sighed, letting Hamzah push open the door as I walked to the room and placed Zaid down, wanting to talk to him about it. I had tried to ask him about Zubair in the car, but had to stop because Zaid was popping his head up at every word and behaving like he was the main participant in the conversation.

He was becoming more alert with every day, and even though it was cuteness overload, it meant that Hamzah and I didn’t quite have the moments we used to have, when he would quietly feed and fall off to sleep.

These days I couldn’t even take out my phone without him wanting to grab it, and I knew that it was a lesson for me to have less screen time too.

I smiled at Hamzah, telling him that I would be with him in a minute, as I glanced at my laptop in the corner of our bedroom.

I wanted to ask him if he could talk to Zubair. Perhaps he would have some way of asking what Zubair’s deal was. Was he really that uninterested in my sister? I really couldn’t believe it.

Jameela was gorgeous by any standards, and the fact that he wasn’t even remotely attracted to her, to the extent that he didn’t even want to talk to her, just didn’t seem feasible.

And as I pulled off my scarf and checked my browser, waiting a few seconds for mails to load, and clicking on one that claimed to be urgent.

Mostly, these were mails with queries that had to do with previous accounts or budgets I had drawn up, and for a while it had been kind of quiet. I figured that there was someone competent in my old position, and I was genuinely glad.

This time, there was a single e-mail that stood out, and as I opened it and skimmed its contents, my heart beat with a certain kind of intensity that I’d never felt before.

The mail stated that a case had been opened against me, from Hammonds, claiming that I had stolen a large chunk of money with signed documents (by me) to confirm. It cited references from bank statements and messages and pictures from some Instagram accounts that I didn’t recognise. There were a host of accusations and allegations and I couldn’t even see anything made sense to me at that moment.

I actually couldn’t even think properly. I was in absolute shock, as I scrolled down in a daze.

My world had stopped. It was like everything had frozen in time. I wasn’t even sure what on earth had happened, but all I knew was that someone was out there to get me, and they were doing everything in their power to do so.

I glanced at the e-mail again, closed my eyes, and then, for first time since Layyanah’s death, I completely broke down.

---

Authors Note: Apologies for the delay. Signal issues since I’m not in the city. And the drama starts once again…. 

Mission Sunnah Revival: 
Sunnah of Noble Character: 

Nabi (SAW) gave attention, spoke and showed love to even the worst person of a nation until the person felt that he is being given special attention.

May Allah make us of those who uphold the Sunnah of character always.

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

 

 

Advertisement

When you Trust the Timing

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 46

Saaliha

”I thought you were joking,” Rabia voice broke into my thoughts incredulously as she tapped on her twin brother’s shoulder, looking immensely disappointed. “There’s really no venue?!”

The atmosphere in the car was thick with excitement and preoccupation, along with a bundle of erratic nerves that was very much expected.
And on a day like this, there was something about the way the hearts were swayed on a special days like today, encompassing the feeling of celebration that Nikah brings.

I was, undoubtedly, in amazing spirits as we left my mother-in-laws place that day, with Imraan and Hamzah in the front seat of his car, and Rabia and I in the back. Uthman had decided to go with his grandparents because he was bound to be pampered rotten during the short trip to the location where Mohsina’s family home was.

I glimpsed at my sister-in-law, tearing my eyes away from the scenic mountainous view I was immersed in ahead of us, which reminded me of one of the famous sayings of Umar bin Khattab (RadiAllahu Anho) which went like:

What is destined will reach you, even if it be underneath two mountains. What is not destined, will not reach you, even if it be between your two lips.

And today was a undeniable reminder of whats meant to be, will be, but Rabia’s statement, well… It was just the kind of negativity to dampen my mood.

As Hamzah gave her an irritated scowl, as he glanced at her in the rear view mirror, taking a longer pull of his cigarette than usual, I could sense the irritation he was feeling. The way that he was lighting cigarette after cigarette, meant that he was probably a little stressed that night, and I kind of understood.

”What made you think I was joking?” he asked blandly,  exhaling out the window as I watched her pout. “I told you that it was at the house.”

”Oh hell,” she muttered with an irritated face, as she scanned the yard, where the marquee was set up. “How annoying. My heels are going to sink in this damn mud. Plus, there’s nowhere decent to even take any snaps.”

Was that the only thing she worried about?

I shook my head and looked away, not trusting myself to say anything.

For some reason, my sister-in-law was getting more and more more on my nerves these days. The love for pride and pomp was something that I didn’t quite get. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, probably even more irritated than my brother-in-law.

“You don’t have to show your followers every move you make,” Hamzah snapped unexpectedly, undeniably angry. “The best of Nikahs are the most simple ones, and hands down, I actually prefer this to any hall or venue function any day. More simple. Less stressful.”

It was actually quite nice that he was already standing up for his new in-laws. Imraan had mentioned that he felt strangely protective over them, with Mohsina only having a younger brother, and her father still getting out of debt, I knew that Hamzah was the type to take it much more personally than anyone else.

I wanted also to point out to Rabia that Mohsina didn’t have wealthy parents to pay for the function like she did, but I knew that it was top secret. Imraan had revealed to me in confidence that the family had gone through a rough patch and was still recovering, financially.

It had come to my knowledge that Mohsina had actually paid for the simple function herself, and it made me admire the kind of heart she had. The fact was that she wasn’t obligated to have a function, but for her parents sake and their respect, she was prepared to do whatever it took to make them happy.

”Thank God we’re having a proper Waleema,” Rabia muttered to herself. “Somewhere ten times better than this ugly dump.”

And of course, I knew that Rabia was famous for calling a spade a spade, but there was a difference between being straightforward and just plain down rude. Her words stung and her tone made me shudder, but more alarming was air of arrogance about her as she said it, and I immediately felt insulted. Unfortunately for Rabia, both her sisters-in-law were from farm-like places.

And it’s only when you witness the pride or arrogance of someone, do you realise what a detested and despised quality it is. After all, it was that quality which got Iblis thrown out of Jannah, and that quality of the Quraish, at the time of Badr, that caused their downfall…

And although I could tell that Hamzah had heard her, it was admirable that he had chosen to specifically ignore her and not start an argument, as he turned to Imraan. After all, remaining silent was always the best option when tempers were starting to flare, and I could tell by his thunderous face that he was really getting angry. Imraan shot Rabia a filthy look and she turned away, slightly deflated.

”I suggest you keep your comments to yourself,” he said sternly, and I got the feeling that it wasn’t the first time she had insulted someone’s home.

“Theres nothing wrong with having standards, right?”

Her question was ill-founded. And okay, I knew that my in-laws had spoilt her rotten as a kid, but this kind of behaviour was not something that they approved of. They never put anyone down or made them feel unworthy.

And being the youngest son, my in laws were insisted in having a bigger function at a popular venue, and Rabia was obviously one of the main event planners.

”Don’t make me walk out my own waleemah,” Hamzah had said firmly, as they tried to pull off the perfect waleemah function. “Any funny business… at all… I’ll take my family and leave.”

It was weird for him to say family, but it was true that Hamzah, Mohsina and little Zaid were now a little unit on their own.

Hamzah had made it clear that he didn’t want any photographers, music or extravagant details. People were thinking of the weirdest things just to make a statement and I could tell that my sister-in-law was testing limits. I just hoped that Hamzah was not going to get a huge surprise when he entered the hall two days later.

Besides, he had said enough.

And as I watched Rabia tapping on her phone and then  extending her arm to take a selfie… I couldn’t help but feel a jolt of irritation.

Everything had to be captured. Sometimes I wonder if it would really hurt to put the phone down and just take it all in, unfiltered. The rivalry doesn’t end… when it came to social media. It was a competition that knew no end, and she was completely sucked in.

And from this it was obvious that , Rabia was part of the‘beautiful’ generation. The generation that’s obsessed with making everything look just like an Instagram post; as perfect as can be.

Basically if you love taking photos, arranging the objects of the photo to make the image look ideal, or using filters and editing photos to make them look even better… well, you are too.

Rabia was clearly enamoured by the worldly things that Instagram and social media seemed to put on a pedestal. I mean, it was a well-known fact that it causes us to obsess over portraying a fabricated version of ourselves, and our lives, to the world.

The truth was that we see images of others flourishing online, on overseas holidays, extravagant functions, flashing money, living it up on their stories, not knowing the harsh realities (or falsification) behind those posts.

She smiled to herself as she tapped away, and I suppressed the urge to tell her something. Instead, I tried to focus on the low murmurs that were coming from the front seat while they found a suitable parking, in an attempt to decipher whether Imraan was having the talk he had planned to have with his brother or not.

And although I was still highly insecure about my sisters attempts at trying to find her husband a second wife, and rubbing off onto mine, Imraan and I had reached an easier place where we made a deal never to keep secrets from each other. Ever.

And though it meant that I had to reveal to him what Fareeha was up to and how it upset me, it also meant that when Imraan had come in that afternoon, looking a little more than just concerned, he couldn’t simply brush me off.

His face was riddled with worry as he took a seat, pulling out his phone and tapping vigourously as I eyed him out. The Nikah had gone well, and Hamzah too, seemed happy, but I couldn’t quite help feeling like something was amiss, and I knew he intended to get what was bothering Hamzah out of him today.

It was true that Hamzah had been against making Nikah from the initial stages. Somehow, he didn’t want to address the issues that had affected him and Mohsina back way things had changed back the previous year. Maybe it wasn’t necessary to bring up the past, but I only hoped that if didn’t cause any troubles in the future.

No matter what Imraan had said, I was quite sure that my brother-in-law was just nervous and that everyting would turn out perfectly.

After all, it was the first time he would see his new bride and it was completely normal. Given, it was a little late, since the Nikah was earlier that afternoon, but this whole situation was completely unconventional, so a few things were not exactly going to take place as per normal.

And as we had arrived a little early as planned, parking off near the house on account of Hamzah wanting to see Mohsina and Zaid before the function, I smiled as I watched him twiddle his fingers mindlessly just before getting off.

And even as we all stepped out, Rabia and I lifting our dresses slightly, her with a slightly annoyed look on the face, we were already overwhelmed at the kind of reception we received.

Of course, I could tell that they had been awaiting our arrival specifically, even though the marquee was erected in the front yard, Mohsina’s sister came to usher us toward the entrance of the house, whilst her brother sidled up alongside Hamzah, already talking easily about some car show that had happened last week.

And as I stepped up, looking around me, scanning only for Zaid, I suppose it was inevitable that as we made our way inside, there he appeared, his fingers stuffed in his mouth as a pretty girl held him.

And maybe I was slightly dazed that day, on account of so much that had happened in such a short time, I almost missed her completely. And as I looked from Zaid to this gorgeous female figure that I could hardly recognise, it took me a few seconds to process who it was.

“Assalamualaikum!” She said, flashing us both a smile as I register that it was none other than my new sister-in-law. “I’m so happy to see you guys…”

And I knew I sound crazy, but seeing her after over a month came like a shock, and felt like I was seeing a new person, and I could tell that Rabia was just as surprised to see how amazingly different she now looked. I had instinctively made my way with Rabia to where she stood and giving her an enormous hug, so thrilled that her and Hamzah’s big day had finally come.

”Wa alaykum Salaam!” I said softly, embracing her tightly. “Mohsina, I hardly recognised you. You look so beautiful.”

And I wasn’t just saying that. She really looked exceedingly stunning, with a gold-edged hijab that was tied absolutely perfectly.

She flashed a nervous smile as her gaze flickered to her husband, and could tell that she was pretty overwhelmed.

I didn’t expect her to be out and about the house, like regular family member.

I had expected her to be like the usual brides who only make an appearance down in the marquee, dressed in some kind of gaudy outfit, but Mohsina was the epitome of sublime simplicity, but here she was, in a gorgeous white and gold embroidered abaya with extended sleeves, which seemed to be made to fit her most elegantly. Her cheeks were flushed with a little more than just blush but even so, she appeared unnaturally calm for a new bride. It took me a few seconds to realise that the reason for the enormous change in appearance was that she had, evidently, lost a ton of weight and I could already tell that my brother-in-law was a little more taken aback by how gorgeous she looked that day.

It was strange and sweet to witness their first meeting, and as he awkwardly approached her and extended his hand to shake hers, Zaid had obviously not got the Nikah vibes memo, and bubbling with excitement, plunged directly at him .

And of course, I couldn’t help but laugh because instead of letting the new couple greet each other, the little pumpkin conveniently transferred all the attention to himself. All Hamzah could do was hold him tightly and grin, as Mohsina shook her head, already giving up on the situation being any kind of conventional.

And how could it be? They had come together in a most unconventional way, and though everyone was thrilled, if life hadn’t turned out the way it did, it probably would have never changed.

For now though…. Having a baby in the picture already was going to be a bit challenging, but I could tell that they were both prepared to take it in their stride.

And even though no-one complained, I knew that it was probably time to intervene and get my own dose of Zaidoo, so I stepped forward, hoping he would remember me.

”Let me take him!” I said jovially, as I moved on to take Zaid from Hamzah. It took them a few minutes of awkwardness before they made their way to a slightly more isolated area, just outside the main lounge, and I couldn’t help but notice what a lovely couple they did make.

With Mohsina’s softer features looking particularly striking that day, and Hamzah with his natural charm, looking more like Imraan as the days went by, I knew that many eyes would probably be on them that day. Tears filled my eyes momentarily as I wondered how time had flown so fast, that my once 11-year-old brother-in-law was already married.

And as I left them, hoping they would get enough time to talk before guests started filling the hall, Zaid was passed from arm to arm as we tried to keep him from Mohsina for that evening.

He was, very evidently, restless and pining for her, and as the function started, her sister had come to take him outside for a small walk, so the lecture and beautiful Qirāt recital could take place without him bawling his eyes off.

All the time, as I sat, I could see Mohsina’s eyes searching for him, almost as if she could think of nothing else. He had, very evidently, taken over her life as much as he did ours. And of course, I tried to ignore the unfounded feeling that I may not get as much as him now as I hoped, but I had to also put my own selfish desires aside and respect her and Hamzah’s wishes.

And despite my small concerns, the joy and feeling of celebrating that was in the air was very much palpable. Mohsinas family, I could not deny, was most welcoming and hospitable. Remembering that she came from a simple home, I was in awe of how every member of her family served and saw to the needs of the guest personally and most graciously.

The food was, very evidently, deliciously home-made, and the small function went so beautifully that even Rabia had nothing to complain about. And although it was simple and completely unflashy, what I knew for sure, from her boisterous and very evident love for him, was that Hamzah was most definitely going to be pampered endlessly by Mohsinas amazing Nani, who kept swooning over him, unashamedly boasting about her new grandson-in-law, and stopping at nothing to make sure that everything was absolutely perfect.

And it was. From the beginning to end, the marquee devoid of cameras or there was so much of Barakah and happiness, that nothing could deter the couple from beaming so brightly, that I’m sure that their faces must have been sore from all the smiling they both did that day.

I was all lost in thought as I watched Jameela take Zaid to the front table where Mohsina was sitting and laughing with a friend of hers, noticing the look of sheer relief on both their faces as Zaid saw her and immediately grasped her neck, as if he never wanted to let go…

“Can you believe your brother-in-law is getting married?”

I turned slightly to the right with my smile widening, as I heard the voice of Haseena, Maulana Umar’s wife, grinning at my new sister-in-law.  My heart filled with joy, and I couldn’t help but reach out and hug her fiercely, taking in her familiar embrace as she hugged me back.

We had known each other for years, but seldom saw each other because of Maulana’s work that always entailed him going out for jamaat and taking her with him. Besides, life was so hectic at times, and with five kids, I couldn’t imagine what her days were like.

“I honestly am finding it hard to deal, Hasoo,” I said, remembering the nickname we always used for her before she was even married to Maulana Umar, or rather just Umar, at that time. “I can’t believe he’s grown up and I’m married for almost 12 years this year!”

Back then, Haseena was a completely ordinary, contemporary girl who loved to make a fashion statement and caught everyone’s attention. And though still positively stunning, when I saw her now, I could hardly believe that this girl in jilbaab was the same girl that had changed her life so drastically, and turned over a completely new leaf.

“It means we’re getting old, aren’t we?” She said, with a twinkle in her eye, and I laughed in agreement. It was bitter-sweet, this getting old thing.

And so was this event.

”It’s a bit emotional, isn’t it?” she said, almost saying aloud how I felt. “The baby… their friends… now, how Allah planned it… they’ve become a new couple. I know Maulana is optimistic that it will work out and the baby needs a proper home, but imagine if this was you or I, Sawls… it’s kind of a huge sacrifice isn’t it?”

I nodded solemnly, feeling an ache in my gut because I knew that Liyaket would have been really thrilled to see his best friend finally settling down. I had remembered hearing Imraan joking about how Liyaket often teased Hamzah about his tendency to jump from girl to girl in the office.

“He’s really changed,” I said softly to her. “I think he’s finally grown up. Soon we’ll be planning our kids weddings, have you thought about that?”

She laughed, and as we spoke easily about life, kids and everything else, the crowd was dispersing and the men slowly started filtering into the hall, she easily excused herself to go to the car where Maulana Umar was probably already waiting. Giving her an even more massive hug, as she left, I could barely believe that this day that we had all been waiting for so long was already nearly over.

Meeting Haseena was lovely and kind of the cherry on the top, as I remembered the earlier days when I just got married and how everything had settled into place. In a mere moment, seeing her again felt like no time had passed, and it was a beautiful feeling that made me look forward to the waleemah a little more.

Meeting with the people of the past reminds us of the way things once were, the happiness that we experienced growing up, and all the wonder. It was a natural feeling that just brought a smile to your face.

And as some familiar faces came up to greet us, the amazing atmosphere of unity and family was such a special feeling.

The feeling of everything falling into place so beautifully was incomparable. And as we got ready to leave too, toward the end of the function when Hamzah had come in to sit with Mohsina, and as they talked intimately, about something serious, I couldn’t help but feel a little at a loss for words, after Haseena’s words.

What these two had done was something that was quite amazing. Though it was a joining of families… a union of hearts and hopefully the initiation of something in breakable… but most importantly, it was the forming of a little orphaned boy’s home and family.

The fact that they had put all their differences aside and taken this plunge was something that I couldn’t quite believe my brother-in-law had so selflessly been able to commit to.

And yes, it may be a challenge. Imraan had voiced his concerns, unreservedly, to me earlier that week.

I did notice that Hamzah had been quiet recently, but to be fair, he had undergone a helluva lot in the past month, and no one could expect him to come out unchanged…

He had barely had a chance to really reflect over the Yemeni war situation before Liyakets passing brought him crashing down on him, and then was Ramadhaan and Al ‘Aqsa, that he had done in the spur of the moment, and in between it all, becoming something like a father to Zaid, well…

The whole transition may be extremely difficult and even heartbreaking, as they remembered their friends in every first word, first step and little achievement that he made through the years. Losing someone was not a once off.

You lose them over and over, sometimes many times a day. When the loss, momentarily forgotten, creeps up, and attacks you from behind, it’s like fresh waves of grief rip into your heart once again.

And although they will be living and carrying on without them, what a beautiful reminder it was, that they had most certainly left one of their most amazing gifts behind.

And as they left behind what may have started on rough and unsteady footing, and went toward what may be a better and more promising future that held something so much better, I couldn’t help but feel immensely excited about it.

And as I helped them clean away some dishes as Rabia sat and looked bored as she typed on her phone, Imraan speaking to Mohsinas father in the distance, my heart was palpably undergoing a host of emotions that I still couldn’t full figure, but as I took a seat, various thoughts were still whirling through my mind.

Seeing family and friends and so many people that we hadn’t met over the years was amazing. This was a union of two families, a breaking of barriers, and a spectacular reason for renewed hope… and the conclusion of the saying by Umar bin Khattab (Radiallaho Anho) as it continued, was a perfect reminder.

­

Go easy on yourself, for the outcome of all affairs is determined by Allah’s decree. If something is meant to go elsewhere, it will never come your way, but if it is yours by destiny, from you it cannot flee.

The thing is, life can be fulfilling at different times of our lives. Sometimes you just have to trust the timing. Theres always opportunity to be wanting to sit and wonder about how things could have turned out differently.. But you can also trust that you have never missed out on what was meant for you.

And though its hard to trust when so much is unknown, try not to take it in all at once.

Pause. Breathe in. Take it in, shade by shade, tree by tree, scent by scent, friendship by friendship… Take in the magic of the moment you are in, without really worrying about what’s to come next or beyond the amazemnet of that moment. Let it be enough. Breathe it in, and let it be enough.

The story thats unfolding right then may be world’s apart from what we expected but it doesn’t mean that it wont be beautiful and life-changing.

And as I breathed in the moment, savoring it’s uniqueness, the vibration on the table broke into my thoughts, as I wondered who would be trying to call me right then.

And just as I picked it up, seeing a missed call from my younger sister and knowing that this was probably not just a general courtesy call, it was at that moment that the message from her came through, and it gave me a slightly unsettled feeling in the pit of my stomach as I wondered if Fareeha was really telling the truth.

Imraan told Aadil to join u guys for tea. We’re in the area. See you in 5. xx

---

Just a tad bit of wedding humour …

Don’t forgot our Mission Sunnah Revival

❤️

The Sunnah of Giving up arguing and having good manners…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Someone asked Ali (RA): 

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah ­

When there is still Hope

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 42 

Mohsina

In one of the most significant events in his history, after the death of our Nabi (Sal- lallaho alaihe wasallam), people of weak Imaan, especially among wandering Arabs, began to desert their faith and become renegades.

And it was the perfect opportunity for Musailamah- the false Prophet- to take advantage of the situation and cause a large number of people to fall a prey to his seduction. It was at this point that Abu Bakr (Radhiyal- laho anho) decided to put a stop to this onslaught on Islam.

And so, a fierce battle was fought, and with the help of Allah, Musailamah was killed. Unfortunately, along with him, a good number of Sahabah, including many Huffaz, lost their lives. It was after this battle, Hadhrat Umar (Radhiyallaho anho) went to Hadhrat Abu Bakr(Radhiyal- laho anho), immensely worried, and asked him to start compiling the Qur’ān into a book.

About this task, it was said by Zaid bin Thaabit (Radiallaho Anho):

Zaid (Radhiyallaho anho) says:
“By Allah, if Abu Bakr (Radhiyallaho anbo) had asked me to shift a mountain from one place to another, it would not have been so hard for me as the compilation of the Qur’an. I said, ‘How do you both dare to take up a thing which was not done by the Prophet (Sallallaho Alaihi Wa Sallam)
They explained to me their point till Allah made the truth dawn on me, and I also was convinced of the importance of the task. I then started going to the people and collecting the Qur’an from those who had written it and from those who had learnt it by heart, till the final collection was ready.”

Just recalling that, had made my heart shudder. Not one could imagine what may have occurred, if these esteemed sahabaah had not executed this ardent task, 

And for me, I often wondered, at that point in my life, where I’d hoped to never lose the connection… how the Glorious Quráan suddenly meant so much to me. And while I stumbled across it’s amazement, the reason for my preoccupation with the beautiful words of my Creator was much more clearer. I mean, it’s well known that if those words were to be placed on a mountain, then that very mountain would crumble due to its sublime weight. Why not then, you may ask, can it not penetrate even the most dead and obstinate of hearts? 

You see, because of Quráan that Nabi (SAW) could cope with the trauma in his life. He found answers in their verses. When his patience may have worn thin, he was reminded that Allah loved the patient. When pangs of hunger struck his blessed stomach, he was reminded of the provisions of Jannah. When anxiety struck him, he was reminded of the sunrise and what is going to come after the darkness. It reminded him that there is still hope.

And for me too, it brought for me a whole new world of promise. There’s something about new beginnings, and the promise that every day brings, that speaks right to my soul. 

We can’t undo our mistakes, or take them back. 

But when you humble yourself, sometimes you really do get more than you bargained for.

And as I made my way up the stairs, silently closing my room door, there was never a moment in my life when I saw things clearer than I did.

I felt awakened. As if someone had jolted me out of slumber. As if a new beginning was awaiting me.

As I paced my room, I knew that the next best thing was to start taking steps to correct my life, and I couldn’t do it with a simple message.

And knowing that Faadil was the main reason for my reservations, I knew that I had to sort out the mess with him first. I drew in a deep breath as I dialled, my heart thudding incessantly as I waited for his familiar drawl.

It was time to end it, but I knew that I had to take it one  step at a time. Faadil didn’t take well to sudden changes in his life and schedule.

There was a bit of shuffling and I could hear low murmurs, as he answered.

I could literally picture him, in his Armani shirt and suit pants, pacing in the penthouse balcony, the bustle of city activity in the background, even at that hour. The view there was always spectacular.

Stop thinking, Mos, I commanded myself. Get to the point. 

“Just wanted to tell you that I’ll be in the Monday after Eid to fetch my stuff. I’m handing in my resignation.”

There. I said it. I was prepared for his reaction, whatever it may be, but I cut it short. 

He was upset. Convinced I was letting an innocent baby cloud my judgement. Told me that I knew that I wasn’t just his employee. 

After all, I was the front he needed to marry to appear responsible and worthy of his position, and I knew it.

“See you, Faadil,” I almost whispered, as I ended the conversation, not wanting to get into any of it that day. “Salaam.”

Speaking to him had stirred up old emotions, and I didn’t want to visit that place. 

It would probably come up at some point, but for now, I knew that I needed to close the doors to my past sins. I needed to take a step back, and I needed to break all the ties that were binding me to my old life. There was so much I needed to change, but I was finding it so hard to conjure up the strength to even move myself off my bed. All I could do right then was bury my head in my pillow and sob my heart out, my heart aching over life and losses and all the previous time I wasted, as I wondered how I had gotten it all so wrong. 

And to add insult to injury, Jameela had just made her way up the stairs to reveal that Hamzah’s sister had been in contact to say that Zaid was asleep and they didn’t want to disturb him, so they would bring him in the morning. I knew this sort of thing my happen at some point and that’s what Maulana was talking about… but I clearly wasn’t coping with the situation very well. There had to be some way to work around it. 

And just as I had positively yelled blue murder at my siblings who came to check on me, so I could wallow in my sympathy, it was at that point when Maahira’s message lit up on my phone to say she was on her way.

And in my emotional state, feeling like ten truckloads of bricks were all raining down on me, all I could say was that sometimes  you have to step back and see what Allah has prepared for you, to really appreciate his amazing plan. And yes, I had taken a step to make amends with Nani, to cut off with Faadil; and I intended to with everyone else but it’s possible that things don’t always fall into place straight away. Sometimes you have to wait it out and bear a little discomfort for a short time, to earn a greater reward…

And despite my feeling like there was no more hope, in my bulldozed state of mind, as Maahira arrived and I clapped my eyes on her, like a breeze of serenity, a huge wave of relief overcame me, as I realized just how much I had missed my oldest friend. 

I squeezed her with all my might, taking in a subtle scent of jasmine spritz on her Hijab as she held me back, unable to breathe for a minute as I clung onto her as if my life depended on it.

“My word,”she whispered. “I didn’t realize how much I missed you, dammit.”

“Ditto,” I said back quietly, not trusting myself to say more.I wanted to spill everything out and let her know how painfully heart-wrenching this past month had been for me. I wanted to bear my heart and soul once again, to relieve the weights that were burdening my shoulders.  

I was all emotional and mushy inside and I knew if I said one more thing, I would probably burst into embarrassing torrents of emotions. 

As for Maahira, her eyes were glazed over as she looked at me, and as I smiled back at her, I took in how  great she was looking. Peaceful. Content. She didn’t look like the girl smiling candidly for Insta snaps. She was most definitely altered… and it showed in her appearance.

She had also lost almost 10kgs on some Keto diet she found on the gram and her parents had set up a host of Samoosa runs for her for straight after Ramadhaan, before she went back. 

Unlike me, Maahira was actually wanting someone to keep her grounded, look after her and all the rest. Simply put, she was done with the Hashim’s and Faadils of our lives.

I just wished that I could get there…

”Don’t you feel like just sleeping in on some days?” She had said when I asked her if she was serious. “Like not doing all the macho and insane things we do every day? Getting up early at the crack of dawn even though we have, like, zero kids. Dressing up like fashion dogs and making our way to the office so we look the part the boring accountant? Going to work and doing a job that everyone hates us for?
I don’t know about you Mos, but I’m telling you, my days as an auditor are numbered.”

And I agreed with her. I really did. But man, I’d worked so hard to get where I was.

She stepped back now, giving me a once over as she plopped on my bed and gave me a questioning look. 

“So spill it,” she said, after I gave her a short low down about Ramadhaan and work. “I didn’t come here to hear about boring budgets. You know what I’m after. You gonna tell me why you were bawling your eyes out or must I squeeze it out of you?”

“Jameela told you,” I said, rolling my eyes, and she raised her un-shaped eyebrows slightly.

The bushy eyebrow look actually suited her. I supposed shaping my eyebrows was something I had to grow them out of. I made an intention to at least try.

“Why cant she just shut her mouth?” I mumbled, shaking my head. Jameela must have told Maahira all the unsightly details. Siblings are way too revealing for my liking. 

She grinned as I rolled my eyes.

”Has some bloke broke your heart?” She said with a wink. “And is he handsome? Because honestly, all I’m getting are Shrek-alikes and I’m not sure if there’s hope anymore.”

I grinned. 

“He is,” I said surreptitiously. “But I’m afraid looks count for nothing here. You were right. Faadil is a tiger on the prowl. There’s no other way to put it. I’m not sure if I’ll ever be enough for him…”

“So now you’ve come to your senses and told him to fly a kite?” She said with a hopeful face. 

“Not exactly,” I said guiltily. “I haven’t been able to prove anything. I’ve heard a few things, but nothing incriminating. Maahi, I just need to let it go and leave it behind me but I can’t seem to call it off…”

She glanced at me briefly, before cocking her head. 

“It’s a tough one,” she said, shaking her head pensively. “I’ve been there, love. I know how it is. He’s hot, handsome and he’s powerful but he’s toxic for you. That’s what made me go on so long with Hashim, and I’m so sorry that I ever let it happen…”

She looked genuinely pained as she said it, as if it had broken her, but by bit, as she recalled every poisoned part of her past relationship. I couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be the trigger to someone else’s marital problems. It was a time when I least admired my friend, and I was so glad that she had repented from that sin.

”I just want him to move on completely, you know?” I said quietly. “I feel like I have. I feel different. Something’s happened. I’m not sure what, but I don’t feel that insane attraction to him anymore…”

I couldn’t believe I had just said that. I was giving away more than I intended but I needed to tell her how I felt, because I didn’t quite understand it. 

Maahira looked at me, and gave me a small smile, as she placed her hand on her heart.

“It’s here, babe,” she murmured, closing her eyes momentarily as if she was savoring a heartfelt emotion, as she flashed me a gorgeous dimpled smile. “Your heart’s changed. That’s what Ramadhaan does to us. It opens your heart and your mind… and if the guy doesn’t have Allah in his heart, you’re never going to be able to be with him. Honestly, I’m not asking for Mr Perfect. I myself am far from it. An honest but flawed man, who loves his Lord… For me, that’s the real stuff.”

She had hit the nail on the head. Maahira had pulled off her Hijab and was now propped against my continental pillow, watching me from the corner of her eye, while I digested what she had said.

She was right and I could feel it. My heart had changed, my perception had been altered and I was seeing everything so differently.

I nodded, my eyes feeling moist at the corners, and I just realised why.

“I feel everything so much deeper now,” I murmured, looking up at the ceiling now as I spoke. “If this is not a sign then what is? Shouldn’t I want to change my focus because there’s a little baby involved? I want to start spomething different. To do something worthy, not in the eyes of people, but on a bigger scale. I want to start Hifdh classes. Do you think I’m mad?”

It was the first time I had said it aloud, and I wasn’t sure what the reaction would be. 

“That’s amazing,” she said softly, lying next to me, as our shoulders touched. I remembered doing this countless times in our childhood and teenage years.

The room light was dim and the men had both left for Salaah, so the house was much quieter than earlier. I could heart Maahiras breathing as I thought about what she was saying, and a deep urgency suddenly filled me as I turned to her. 

“Can you even believe that I didn’t know he was a Hafidh?”

She looked at me and blinked.

“Are we talking about ‘he who does not exist’?” she said, suddenly turning and looking at me in the eye, as she propped her head up on her hand. 

I grinned, despite my emotions. We both knew who she was talking about and my heart beat faster when she mentioned him. I wasn’t even sure how I had got to this stage, where I was suddenly on the other side of the fence.  Who ever thought that I would fall for a guy because of his Deen? It sounded like one of those cliched memes.

“Yup,“ I said, swallowing my emotion once again. It was like my heart was suddenly set alight and I wanted to change my entire life. 

”So much has happened, Maahi” I said, voicing my thoughts, as my voice trembled. Why did everything make me want to cry? 

A vague memory instantly filled my thoughst as I remembered:

There’s a reason why Allah  loves those who have sinned and repented, for they have the softest of hearts. 

“Mos, is anything beyond repair?” she asked, raising her eyebrows at me.

“I feel like it is,” I admitted quietly, my chest feeling tighter as I though of it. “None of my family know the story with Faadil. I shut them out completely. I didn’t take their advice seriously. I’ve made bad decisions. I let the wrong man get close to me, and I feel so sick when I think about it. I don’t want to get back there. My family will forgive me. But what about everyone else, Maahi? What about everyone else I hurt?”

There were so many people who I had hurt in the process but Hamzah was the one person I never gave an explanation to.

”Mos,” she said comfortingly. “Dont despair. Just think it over, you’ll need to talk it through and maybe he’ll need some time…”

“But what if there’s no time?” I suddenly cried, cutting her off. “So many people didn’t make it here! Look at Layyanah. At Liyaket. They were lucky to have seen the light… And here I am, just trying to find my way out of my darkness, out of those gloomy pathways… but still I’m struggling to take that step? Why, Maahira? Why am I still struggling? Why can’t I just let go? I expect provisions in my life, I expect my debts to be resolved, I expect the doors of marriage to be open for me, I expect loving relationships, I expect and expect…”

My voice dropped as Maahira looked at me, tears filling her own eyes. 

“But I fail Allah, Maahi. I failed to even fulfil my obligations.”

The tears were streaming down, in all their glory, as Maahira turned away and bit her lip. She was obviously a little stumped for words.

“You’re not the only one, love,” she said, so quietly, that I barely heard her.

But it wasn’t even about anyone else. I was so off track. Instead of seeing hijab as a means to get closer to my Creator, it was a mere fashion accessory. Instead of filling my days with Ibaadat, I was dwelling on ways to make more sins. Instead of trying my utmost to be grateful to Allah for his infinite bounties, I took great pleasure in posting my entire life on social media for the whole world to gawk at. And I still wondered why I was lost?

“It’s not the end,” I heard her say, after a few seconds, almost as if she was holding onto an iota of hope that was left.

“But will he forgive me?” I asked candidly, my spirits lifted slightly. If he had to know about Faadil…

”Its not your job to worry about that, love,” she said quietly. “You take the step and apologize. Be honest. You try and set it right. Once you take a step towards Allah, He makes a way for you, even when you can never imagine. Don’t you ever despair of his mercy, it’s really far more than you can ever imagine. There’s always a way to pack your past into a suitcase and start over.”

And as I looked at Maahira’s solemn face, it just so happened that it was that very moment her phone let out a shrill ring, and I already knew that the moment had passed for now. 

I just knew that I had to take something from it if I wanted to make a change. 

And as Maahira left that evening, after our intense heart to heart, somehow, I was feeling lighter than usual. I tried to submit as much work that night as possible, knowing that since I’d resigned, I still had to pull my weight till the notice period was over. Working from home was not ideal, but it worked for now. Going into the office would be an emotional disaster right then, and I wasn’t ready to take it on yet. 

As promised, Zaid arrived with his uncle and Saaliha, early the next morning, consuming us all once again, with his cuteness and daily needs. Not a person in the house was immune to his charm, and somehow, he livened the the entire household. It wasn’t long before there came a time when I could not have imagined life any other way, especially as preparations for Eid came up, and I took a trip to the local mall to choose three different outfits to show him off in. 

He was, obviously, looking like the handsomest young guy as I dressed him in a little Kurta-romper thing my obsessed parents had found near Fordsburg, just before breakfast on Eid morning.

Ramadhaan seemed to have flew by, but I knew that the real test would be that day. Would I be able to maintain all the resolutions I had made? Would I be able to keep up the good deeds I had promised to? Would I maintain that beautiful connection with the Glorious Qur’aan, that I vowed to?

And for all that grief that Liyakets mother had felt, her grandson was a small compensation for her. When he wasn’t having tummy issues (which still happened often), he was a ball of laughter and fun.

It was for this reason that Eid was particularly spectacular that year, and it wasn’t even about that or the Matilda cakes or Nani’s famous burfee. There was a peace that surrounded me, coupled with a mixture of sadness as I realized that now that Ramadhaan was over, everything was going to come at me at full-force, while I struggled to get back into my old groove.

Having Zaid, as we agreed I would, was my cherry on the top, and everyone ooh-ed and aah-ed over him as if he was my child. I held him tight to me, for the moments that I had him with me, feeling a little aggrieved but also absolutely in awe of this gift that my beloved friend had left for me.

I didn’t want to get back into the mundanities that had consumed me. All I wanted to do was immerse myself in the beauty that I had found, but I knew that I couldn’t. While I enjoyed family around, ignored my mean girl cousins who never ceased to mention something offensive every Eid day, and sat in my own bubble of bliss where no-one could touch me, I didn’t expect that evening pan out anything like it did. 

And it was all good that day. I mean, I was in an amazing mood. I was all prepared to knock out all those bad habits for good, and as I sat on my Musallah, just after maghrib Salaah, trying to hang onto those last remnants of Ramadhaan bliss, I couldn’t help but feel jolted out of my tranquility as Muhammed Husayn tapped me from behind. 

“Mos,” he said, a slight frown on his forehead visible as I glanced at him. “Come down.”

I looked at him questioningly. Maghrib had just finished and I was immersing myself relentlessly in a short Du’aa as I hoped to hang onto the feeling that still existed within me.

“Hamzah is here,” he said, and I was little taken aback by mention of him. 

But yes, of course. They didn’t have to let me know, right? I had to be easy. He had come to see Zaid. It was Eid day, after all.

“He asked me to call you.”

---

 

Mission Sunnah Revival

The Sunnah of Quraan Tilawat…

Whilst we grapple to keep that connection alive out of Ramadhaan, I it’s recommended to set a certain amount of Quran to read every day.

Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) said: “Stick to the reading of the Quran, as it is Noor for you in this li free and treasure in the Aakhirah.” 

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

The Simple Things

Bismihi Ta’ala

Part 41
Mohsina

Sometimes we get so caught up in life that we forget that we don’t always need to be busy, to be rushing to the next thing or to keep on checking our phones or e-mails. Sometimes we need to remind ourselves that it’s okay to slow down, to pause, to take a break and to take notice of the little things that aren’t so little.

Sometimes we don’t realize someone’s prayer that saved us from falling deeper. Or a smile that came through for us when we needed it most. Or a a simple kind word that made a difference to someone’s difficult day.

The simple things, sometimes, can take us a long way.

And yes, for me, there was a time in life when I stopped worrying about the simple things, and stopped caring what people think. When I shifted my focus, when I got detached from people, and built that wall that kept me an arms length away… at any given time.

Watching my father being held, at gun point when I was 18 years old, when nothing we had was good enough to invoke any mercy, had shifted something within me.

It was from that point on that I decided that I would be fearless. Unyielding. Unattached. I supposed that was my coping mechanism.

When it came to suitors, to family, friendships, and to Hamzah too… I never risked digging my hopes in so deep that coming out would prove to be any sorts of painful.

I always knew that people could leave. Come and go as they pleased. Leave each other, and never return. It was something I’d realised from listening to friends talking about relationships or being a little too cautious for my own liking. 

And so, instead of focusing on the One who never leaves, that’s when I shifted my focus to things. Shoes, handbags and accessories were easiest to deal with. People, to me, were the problem. 

So when the blues got to me, as I sat in my room, one day in Ramadhaan, it took me a little by surprise.

And maybe it was a combination of my mind finally attuning to reality, and also being the time of the month and the emotions that came with it… all I knew was that it felt like she had left me and the light had followed her. Simply put, whichever way I saw it, there was a gnawing ache in my body which translated to me missing Layyanah immensely.

Suddenly, the world was filled with so much of darkness that it was almost impossible for me to see at all. And as I trudged along, a flickering torch lighting much less of a path than I’d hoped, there were moments when my heart gave in completely.

How much my heart yearned for her advice, her laugh and just her general two cents, I wasn’t even able to fully comprehend, but being so busy with Zaid had filtered it for me, so it wasn’t so obvious.

But then there were the moments. Moments at night when I couldn’t seem to drift off to sleep, where I would stare at the ceiling and wonder how she could  leave me like this. At such a dead loss, completely clueless as to how to even sort out and live my own life, nevermind her little boy’s…

It was the day after Maahira had messaged, when Zaid was still with Hamzah and family, when I had gone down to see if there was anything to munch on (it was that time of the month and I was feeling a little spiritually low, and Maahira was also coming to visit after iftaar so I could explain the whole marriage saga), so I grabbed a packet of cookies just as Nani walked into the kitchen, and gave me one of her eye-balling looks.

I was being my usual unbothered self, as I strutted around the then empty kitchen, looking for something to munch on and to do whilst I heard her voice from behind me that made me jump.

“No roza?” She said with a frown, looking at me, almost accusingly. Nani was looking at me accusingly as I hid the stash behind my back.

I pulled my face slightly because next, I already had a plan to head straight to the shelf near the stove, due to the fact that for some reason, someone had left a huge slab of Cadbury Bubbly chocolate (that everyone knew was my ultimate favourite ), right in proximity of my wandering eyes.

But with Nani’s eyes now fixed on me, I slunk back to the bar stool, determined to leave my chocolate-cravings for later.

“No, Nani,” I said with a small smirk. “I’m not fasting.”

”Oh,” she said, obviously peeved that I would have the guts to even admit it.

And I got the old traditional thinking but after explaining to my brother that women take a break from certain forms of worship once a month, he now obediently turned the other way if he ever saw us sneaking a treat to our rooms. Nani obviously, thought it was appalling that he knew, but I thought it was important that he knew that we weren’t cheating.

“You missing Zaid?”

It was Nani again and I knew that was her way of asking why I was still sitting there, because it was the first time I had set foot on the kitchen after ages.

And to tell the truth, though the short break definitely had helped with my sleep deprivation, I was actually missing him so much that I pottered around my room trying to deal with myself in the best way possible. As much as I wanted to call every minute and see how he was doing, all I did was message Saaliha (maybe a bit too many times) to ask how he was… but despite her being polite, her answers were always brief and to the point.

For all I know, she had probably been given instructions by Hamzah not to over indulge me and I got that. Well, a little, except for the fact that I still thought that he was behaving like a selfish brat.

I sighed audibly, unable to contain my annoyance.

“You okay?” Nani asked bossily, and turned back to mixing the batter she had put in the metal bowl in front of her.

“Just tired,” I said half-heartedly. I still had piles of work to do and I just couldn’t seem to get around to it. Faadil had messaged me about six times this morning for follow ups on budgets but I just wasn’t feeling like getting into it. I knew that my job was on the line too, but for some reason, it didn’t even faze me.

Sure, I missed some aspects of my apartment but sitting like a lump and getting spoilt rotten had been absolute bliss.

Besides, Nani was in a particularly good mood because she hadn’t once even commented on my laziness. Maybe she was feeling sorry for me or just wanted to be nice, but when Nani actually missed an opportunity to hound me about learning to cook, I knew that the odds were in my favour.

And as she turned to look at me, a slight frown on her forehead, I couldn’t help but notice how different she appeared. It had been so long that I had really taken her in, that I didn’t quite realise how much she had aged.

Although she was still highly capable for everything that she had carried out over the years, her back was now slightly hunched and her movements were a little slower than before.

There it was. Another reminder that time was running away with me and if I didn’t say anything it would forever be lost…

And I suppose that’s why, although it was probably the best time for me to head back upstairs and either do the work Faadil had mailed me this morning, or just some general adhkaar and Ibaadat (worship) that I’d kind of made a habit of to ground me, I knew I shouldn’t.

It was just that, somehow, after the general cleansing and lightening and purifying of my heart over the weeks had taken effect, there was nothing else that I really wanted to do than bear my heart and soul and that was exactly why I sat there for another five minutes and wondered how exactly to approach the topic that I’d been avoiding with Nani for over a year.

”Nani,” I said finally, watching my grandmother whisking her mixture vigorously while the extractor hummed above her, ready to fry her mixture.

“Nani, I’m sorry,” I blurted out, already feeling embarrassed about how emotional I was already getting.

Nani glanced at me and frowned, her face slightly perplexed as she probably tried to figure out if I was just making a joke or what.

She said nothing, but as she looked at the sincerity on my face, I could see her expression ease, while she chopped carefully on the chopping board, before she finally broke into a small smile.

“What are you sorry for?” She said roughly in Guji, looking at me enquiringly.

“For everything,” I said quietly. “For not listening. For disappointing you. For causing problems. For making the wrong choices. For telling you that you have favourites…”

Yes, I had. I had accused Nani of having favourites. And I made it clear that she never treated me as one of hers.

I understood now that Nani was coming from a place where she was worried. Immensely worried and concerned that I wasn’t going all out to settle down and make a life for myself. And not get married, but that was beside the point.

Nani looked like she was shocked. But now that I was into it, I might as well go all out.

”Also, I’m sorry that things with Nadeema got so bad. Nani, I didn’t want it to be that way, but she was doing something that I couldn’t tolerate.”

There. I said it. I didn’t tell Nani what she did but I gave her an idea. I didn’t tell her that she had been speaking to the guy I was proposed to, and was even meeting him. I didn’t want to bring it all up now. It was the unmentionable things that we never mentioned.

But now I had just mentioned it.

“It’s okay,” Nani said in Gujarati. “Khair. He wasn’t right for you anyway.”

I narrowed my eyes slightly at Nani, wondering howcome she suddenly changed her opinion.  She had been so furious when I called it off.
Convinced that I would never find anyone better.

My  entire adult life had been spent hearing about how I can’t be so fussy and picky and no-one likes educated girls, and now she was saying that he wasn’t right for me in the first place.

I wondered if the change of heart was the current situation I had found myself in. Maybe Nani had finally realised that I didn’t really need a man to have a baby. Ah. The relief. At least it will save me from more soppy, spineless Sameers.

“Really?” I asked, curious, wondering if she was for real.

She shrugged, glancing at me as she dropped spoonfuls of batter into the hot oil.

The smell of freshly fried bajias was making my mouth water. Now let me tell you, my Nani didn’t just make a simple bajia.

Hers was the type with all the best stuff in it. The type that made you do metaphoric circles around trees in your mind as you bit into their crunchy texture. The type that made you salivate embarrassingly, just by smelling them.

The type I knew I had to learn to make, when I eventually decided to get married.

She was silent for a while, while the oil spluttered and simmered, and then turned and looked at me.

“His mother didn’t like my Samoosas,” she said with a serious face, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

Nani’s samoosas were legend. There clearly was something wrong with his mother.

“And he wasn’t right,” she continued. “Not your type. Too ‘small-build’ for you.”

“What?” I said, widening my eyes.

Haaibo.

Was Nani saying I was too fat for him? Okay, I know he was on the smaller side but it wasn’t like I was that huge.

She shrugged.

Oh great. I couldn’t believe her.

She had turned back to the bajias, almost as if she hadn’t just called me fat.

It was at that point when Jameela entered the kitchen, and I knew I should have just let it go, but I was quite offended, so I couldn’t just be silent.

And fine, maybe Nani had forgiven me for my past mistakes but saying I was fat wasn’t exactly a good way to end the conversation.

“Jameela,” I whined, as my sister started taking out a jug for the milkshake. “Nani said I’m fat.”

Jameela had forgiven me for my outburst about her teenage-inspired-badboy-crush but she hadn’t mentioned it since. She still blushed awkwardly if anyone mentioned him or we saw him going past.

“I didn’t say she’s fat,” Nani said, not in the least bothered. “I said that boy was too small for her. Not right for her size.”

I looked at Jameela pointedly, while she grinned.

”I told her the truth,” Nani said pointedly. “I didn’t say she was fat. She mustn’t become like your Choti kala. Weight goes up and down like yo-yo. How will she find a boy when he won’t know who she is the next time he sees her?”

I spluttered as she glanced at me, wondering what Choti Kala would say about this. I knew Nani was just messing with me but it was fun to have something else to worry about.

Besides, I knew there was a stage when I was a little on the chubbier side, but being a lot more conscious of my weight now had brought me down pretty well. I knew that this Ramadhaan, unlike others, I had actually lost some weight. I was looking better than before. I also knew that I had been through so much recently that maybe I needed to just go with the light humor for now.

And as Nani went on about “makko” men (she probably meant macho), I couldn’t help but think of what Nani would think of Faadil. Despite the fact that he was ‘office men’s’ with big, big business, he had a good build. Plus he was super handsome and charming, that he could even charm the socks of me, in the most challenging of situations.

But then again, no-one quite knew about all his other antics that he got up to when he thought he had covered his tracks so well.

Okay, trash the thought. That was my utopian mind taking over. Nani would probably have a heart attack if she got wind of who he was.

Jameela was snickering silently to herself, and I stuck my tongue out at her.

Muhammed Husayn, evidently, had also smelt the famous bajias  and had just sauntered into the kitchen to investigate.

I already knew what was coming. Great. A family affair at my expense.

He sat silently and listened, while Nani explained her very intense whole theory about how sizes matter and opposites that attract. About how size determines the type of selection available and how girls who are thinner have a better selection of the opposite gender to go with. The theory went something like: The larger you are, the less selection is available for attraction.
It was like magnetic fields all over again in high school physics, which thankfully, I had dropped in grade 10. No regrets.

Shew.

”For Mohsina,” she said, matter if fact. “She can’t have one skinny small mens. She needs one with… what you call this thing?”

She tapped her upper arm and gestured at Muhammed Husayn while he smirked.

“Muscles, Nani,” he said blandly. “Muscles.”

”Yes,” she said, thrusting her spoon in the air. “He needs muscles. Can’t marry one bichaaro boy who can’t even pull you out the car seat.”

Great. Now she was suggesting that I get stuck in car seats. I loved my grandmother to bits.

My mouth was still hanging open, but as I watched my siblings grinning at me, I just shook my head at them and rolled my eyes.

The laughter was much needed, even though I wouldn’t admit it. I stayed silent though, as they went off to get ready to break fast, and I sauntered off to the lounge, knowing that my slight disconnection was probably due to the fact that I hadn’t been immersing myself in Ibaadat as much as I wanted to.

I had pulled out my phone from the shelf I had placed it on early, looking at another reminder from Faadil, and decided to ignore it for now, opening my Instagram after what seemed like days. A host of direct messages stared at me as I closed the app again, not yet ready to go into the mundanities of that kind of life yet.

Make up tutorials. Daily care routines. Trending memes that would cause a bit of a stir and create some much needed humour…

It all seemed so far away from me.

While I was searching everywhere for peace, I didn’t know that it was right in front of me, within this glorious message that was sent from above.

There are certain things that come only from the magic of His closeness, that you are privileged to seek. I had taken pride in the wrong things. I had taken pride in my fake life, that I was trying to make greater than it really was.

Because if there was one thing that I had learnt in Ramadhaan, it was that time was something I wouldn’t get back. I knew that if i didn’t make the most of this time, I would certainly be stupid. This was the time when I had to invest. The time I had to beg, steal, borrow and make sure I take advantage of, no matter what.

And for that time, I sought refuge in Allah, battling to find that place where I could connect with my Creator m once again. I sought refuge in Allah, in His mercy, and on the hope that He may see something within me to forever make me His bosom friend.

And as I had been waking up in the wee hours of the morning to seek Him, I found myself once again. I had tasted the sweetness of Quran. Of salaah. Of Duaa.

I sought refuge in it, even though I didn’t always have the words. In conversing with my Lord, even when I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I bore my heart and soul, so much so, that my parents and siblings had actually begun to get worried.

Our beloved Nabi, salla Allahu ‘alaihi wasallam, is reported to have said:

“There are three characteristics, whoever they are found in him, will experience the sweetness ofIman; that he loves Allah and His Prophet, more than he loves anyone else, and that he loves another person, not for anything, but for the sake of Allah, and that he hates to return to infidelity, like he dislikes to be thrown into fire.”

And it was that sweetness, a bliss that had consumed me, that I couldn’t seem to get enough of.

And I didn’t know it yet, but there was something quite noteworthy that it was all leading to.

Ever heard that saying, sometimes what you’re looking for comes when you’re not looking at all? 

It just so happens that there’s nothing that rings truer than that, for that particular day.

And having my family around me that day was all part and parcel of what was to be revealed. It lightened the mood. Made things simpler. Lifted my hopes.

I knew they were just poking me. Getting me to lighten up. Maybe even make me laugh. And I almost had. Nani was in good spirits, and still at it as we made our way to the iftaar table after salaah. I had been diligently frying the samoosas,  without even grabbing any testers, while Papa and the rest took a seat and made usual small talk.

Nani was going on about teaching Jameela how to make round rotis, and that’s precisely when I spotted Muhammed Husayn making his way to the kitchen shelf and grabbing the alluring Bubbly chocolate that I had set my sights on earlier.

And I know it a simple chocolate, but for a chocolatarian like me, it was the worst thing that could happen if Muhammed Husayn had just grabbed it at 6.30PM when all other chocolate stocks were low and even the slots on the Checkers app were  fully booked. With my brother, any edible would be devoured in 3 seconds, flat. For me, this was disaster.

I mean, chocolate was the answer to all my problems, especially when I was in fragile states like today.

And I really didn’t mean to stare him down so accusingly, but he must have noticed because he suddenly looked at me, and then said, almost apologetically:

“’This yours?”

And I couldn’t lie. It wasn’t really mine. But Jameela had noticed my annoyed expression and frowned at him, always quick to pick on my brother who had a bottomless pit as a stomach. Especially when it came to the finer things in life.

”Hey greedy, you had yours earlier this week,” she said accusingly. “That was Mosee’s.”

And of course, I was annoyed with him, but what else could I say besides the usual:

”Shame, no, it’s okayyy! Let him have it.”

But Jameela was like the our personal Haraam house police, and wasn’t going to have any of it.

“No,” she said, turning to look at me. “It’s really yours. Like, it’s legit haraam for him to take it without asking you. When you didn’t come down since Zaid left, I forgot to tell you. He brought one for each of us.”

”Who, Papa?” I asked, thinking of how sweet my father was. He knew just what my favourite chocolate was.

“No,” Jameela said blankly, glancing nervously around the table, while Ma and Nani watched her. They both had that look on their faces and I wasn’t even sure why, until she spoke again.

“Hamzah’s mother sent it,” she said quietly. “When they fetched Zaid. She sent a few things. The last time she came to the shop I sent a few things and… Shame, she didn’t have to.”

Jameela flushed slightly as she said it, probably thinking I might be angry about her entertainment of my ex-in-laws. I wasn’t though. It just felt strange.

”So nice of her,” Nani said, missing the awkwardness completely. “To send for all of us. I thought maybe for a special occasion like the masjid sent last week.”

“They had sent for completion of Qur’aan,” Jameela was saying. “This she sent with sooo many other things. Plus, that mosque does two khatams in Ramadhaan. Most people are only finishing their Khatam next week.”

I was secretly a little happy that Hamzah’s mother had actually sent something for me. It made me feel all fuzzy inside.

I was losing interest in the conversation but I couldn’t believe how fast Ramadhaan was going. I was just glad that by next week I would be reading again and be able to make the most of my Qur’aan. It was the one thing I truly missed during these few days.

My heart was feeling a very palpable void.

”Hamzah will finish tomorrow,” Muhammed Husayn said, almost out of the blue.

And I must have had a confused look on my face because as Jameela looked at him too, I couldn’t help but wonder what my brother was on about.

“Finishing what?” I said, still slightly confused.

”He’s reading his last part for tonight. At the house behind the new Masjid in JHB North. I went there last week. He was also talking to Papa the other day when he came and he confirmed it.”

What? My heart literally skipped a beat as he said it.

Why, oh why, didn’t I come down when they came to fetch Zaid? I was being stupid and emotional because I didn’t want him to go. But now, I missed out on this whole conversation that had happened and I couldn’t believe I had acted so childish.

”He’s a Hafidh?” I said dumbly, and Muhammed Husayn looked at me like a I born on another planet.

“Duh.”

It was Jameela’s turn to look at me in surprise. She probably didn’t know either. I mean, she would only know if I had told her.

And why on Earth was my heart beating so fast?

”Wait,” she said, looking at me again. “You telling me he’s a Hafidh and you didn’t know it?”

“We never discussed it,” I said quietly, as if that explained it, barely even believing it myself.

How could we have not even spoke about that?

How could we have never discussed that he was a protector of the most beautiful book? How could we have not spoken about what an amazing gift he had been blessed with? How did I not even see the value of that, before this…

I breathed in, not even seeing clearly anymore. For some odd reason, tears were blurring my vision, and I wasn’t even making an effort to stop them.

Of course, my brother was still giving me the kuku look, Jameela was just shaking her head at me and Nani and my mother were sitting there, with a shocked expression on their face, as if they couldn’t quite believe what had just been revealed and my odd reaction.

To tell the truth, neither could I.

This wasn’t just big. It was huge. And everything just seemed so clear now, depite my oscured vision,  and it was like everything single thing that had happened till that very point was all leading to this. It was a huge discovery that was somehow so much more important in my life than it had ever been before.

Yes, this wasn’t anything unique. There were thousands of Huffaadh around here. A blessing that each of them had, to hold the Holy Qur’aan within their bosom. It was a seemingly simple task that took years of effort and practise and healed even the most obstinate of hearts, but till that day, I hadn’t realsie the true amazement of it.

There was a huge lump in my throat that seemed to be obstructing my breathing canal. I looked up at them, with blurry vision, taking in a deep breath, and knowing that this was no coincidence. Sometimes the simple things in life are really not so simple at all.

“Excuse me,” I almost whispered, swallowing as I pushed my chair back.

I didn’t need to tell them where I was going.

I think they all already knew.

---

Mission Sunnah Revival

The Sunnah of Duaa…

Whilst we grapple to keep that connection alive out of Ramadhaan, I think the Sunnah of Duaa is one that we need to keep with us… InshaAllah

The Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) said, ‘Du’a is worship itself’. Then the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi Wa Sallam) recited this verse, ‘Your Lord says: “Call upon Me and I will respond to you. Verily, those who disdain My worship will enter Hell in humiliation” [The Noble Qur’an, 40:60]’. [Tirmidhi]

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

When it feels like Home

Bismihi Ta’ála

Hamzah

Sometimes in life, when the focus has shifted and life’s giving you a bit of uphill, you’re given the grave choice between losing someone, and losing yourself…

And some people may call it selfish, but if you’re the kind of person that I am, you’ll understand what it feels like to wonder what will happen to your loved ones when you’re no longer around. To understand that if you lose yourself, nothing good can ever come out of it.

And if you are anything like me, and you lose yourself to someone, almost as if there’s no going back, your day and night becomes consumed with all sorts of thoughts and possibilities about what can and may happen.

It might sound crazy (and it is), but people like me, are one level above the realists. We are the worriers; the ones who think of every possible outcome for every possible scenario, even before it happens.

And I didn’t know it yet, that, that was exactly how it all started, but here I was, all soaked up and letting myself fall more and more into the sweet surrender of unconditional love, when I had slammed right into the most amazing lesson, that put it all in a nutshell for me.

And it was just as well that I’d heard it the day before, but in a beautiful narration reported by Abdullah ibn Abbas (RA), who was just a boy at the time, Nabi Muhammad (Sallalahu Alaihi was Sallam) advised his young companion to be mindful of Allah.

In the original Arabic of this, he uses the phrase “ihfadh-Allah, yahfadhak,” which literally translates as: “take care of Allah, and Allah will take care of you.”

And I’m pretty ashamed to admit it, but it had only become a recent habit of mine to recite the chapter of the cave with its innumerable benefits, also known as Surah Kahf, every Friday without fail.

And it was just as well, because within the extensive story of Musaa (AS) and Al-Khidr (AS), who was said to have somehow but unintentioanlly drunk from the Fountain of Life, it’s result being eternal life…. Allah teaches us something amazing about those we strive for, give ourselves for, and are consumed by the most…

Umar ibn AbdulAziz once said, “There is not a single righteous believer who dies except that Allah (swt) will protect his children and his children’s children.”

And to come back to that amazing moral… within the story of Musa and Al- Khidr (AS) , as these two men were journeying together, they came to a town where the people were, to say the least, extremely miserly and refused to give them even a morsel to consume.

It was at that place, as they were leaving the city, when Al-Khidr(AS) saw a wall that was crumbling, and promptly repaired it.

Now, imagine, like you and I, after the people’s refusal to assist them in their hour of need, Musaa (AS) was appalled by this seemingly virtuous deed, saying that he should have asked for some payment at least. Al Khidr (AS) then explained the wisdom:

“And as for the wall, it belonged to two orphan boys in the town; and there was under it a treasure belonging to them; and their father was a righteous man, and your Lord intended that they should attain their age of full strength and take out their treasure as a mercy from your Lord. And I did it not of my own accord. That is the interpretation of those (things) over which you could not have patience” (18:82).

And truly, we can never understand the wisdom of Divine knowledge, the extraordinary insight that those pious saints are given and how they are able to execute their tasks with such perfection…

The sublime fact here was that Allah (SWT) sent Al-Khidr to protect the wealth of these orphans without anyone else’s knowledge or invitation for one sublime reason: their father was a righteous man. Their father took care of the commandments of Allah, and Allah Ta’ala, in turn, not only took care of this man, but Allah protected the wealth of the orphans as a favour to their Duniyaa, even after he left this world.

And it was mind-blowing, because if you ask any man today what his greatest worries were, that was the crux of it, wasn’t it?

And as I looked at my friend that day, before he left for his trip to the bank, taking in his full beard, Sunnah attire and reformed ways, I could very clearly see that fatherhood had not only come naturally to him, but also reformed him in so many ways.

And it was so true, because in this case, being so close to my friend, as I witnessed him becoming a father, I couldn’t help but feel the same way.

And maybe it was the fact that for the day, I had been given the immense responsibility of watching over him for a few hours, that got to me, but that too, was not without coincidence.

“Are you implying I can’t take care of a two month old baby?” I asked Liyaket, trying to sound incredulous as I looked at his doubtful expression.

I mean, how hard can it be? All they do is drink and sleep, right?

I wasn’t yet thinking about the poo part. That, I’d pass onto someone else.

”It’s not that,” Liyaket said, biting his lip hesitantly as he held onto his son before he left. “You know this is my kid. My blood. Severe attachment issues going on.”

”Hey,” I said, trying to sound all cool and collected, as if I was the most responsible adult in the room. “I got this.”

“Okay, bru,” he said, stepping back as I heard his wife issuing some last minute commands about before he left, as if he was leaving me stranded in the desert.

And I got it. Because, from my own parents perspective and now that I saw my friend morph into fatherhood…

If you ask any man who they are working so hard for, who is the first person who comes to mind? Their kids.

But there was really no need to worry, because the answer was right there, in that Surah we are supposed to be reciting every week.

We just need to refocus. We need to pry our eyes away from the goal of being “great parents,” and set our sights on becoming “great believers.” (Which will inevitably lead to being a great parent.)

Just be good. Be sincere. Be conscious of Allah, attain piety, and Allah will, undoubtedly, take care of it all.

I held little Zaid close to my chest as his parents left, wondering why I suddenly felt like I had this enormous responsibility on my shoulders, as I watched him drifting off to slumber, almost like we had done this plenty of times before. And then I got it: I supposed that’s how a parent feels. One day you’re just a single being and the next day, you have this tiny little life depending on you for every little thing.

It’s amazing to see, isn’t it? The change that happens sometimes when a child comes into the world, how the focus shifts. Somehow, all you want to do is keep them close, shelter them from the world and keep them away from any harm that could possibly ever come to them.

There were so many things that had happened… so many trials that the world was seeing… and so much   that we had to keep our guard up about, that this parenting thing that Liyaket was already taken so seriously was already rubbing off onto me.

It had barely been three months but it was as if, without any warning even, my heart already held this binding attachment to the little guy. It was like coming home.

I already loved the kid. There we were, sitting for almost an hour, and it felt almost as if we had been best friends for years. I had bared my heart and soul, and it was as if he just got me, no questions asked.

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t exactly converse back. All I needed sometimes was someone to hear me out, and share my thoughts with. I mean, why else did you need in a soulmate? 

“Hey, that suits you,” Rabia said as she came down the stairs, smiling widely as she saw him lying in my arms, fingers in his mouth and spitting up a lovely tsunami of saliva while he was at it.

She was dressed in a long, flowy kind of dress, looking like she was ready to go somewhere important, but wasn’t in much of a rush to get going either. Maybe he was the diversion, but as her eyes settled on him, I knew that she was already a goner.

As for Zaid, he was oblivious to his cuteness as he lay there, gurgling away at nothing in particular, while Rabia went all gaga over him, with no reservations.

”Isn’t he just the sweetest little thing!” She exclaimed, bending and beaming at him as he smiled back at her. “And he likes me! What a big smile… oh my.. and he’s got stories for me too… Yeeess… I’m talking about you, little pooky pops...”

Pooky pops? Oh-Kayy.. That was a first.

I sat back and watched Rabia losing the little dignity she had left over a two month old. Seriously, what babies do to women…

“Can I carry him?” She asked, her expression unreadable for a few moments as I watched her eyeing him out.

I shrugged and picked him up easily, passing him over as she watched me in awe.

“You’re an expert, aren’t you? Where’s Liyaket?” She asked with exaggerated disbelief, taking him carefully and cradling him affectionately. “Does he need to burp?”

She eyed the bottle that was on the table, that I had literally just finished feeding him.

Okay, my bad. I did forget about the burping part. That would explain the white stuff that was now trailing down his chin, and his slight discomfort.

I wiped it with a tissue that was lying around. No time to find allocated face towels.

“He does,” I said bluntly, not admitting my mistake, as I put the lid back in the bottle and handed it to her. “You can see if he wants more after. Layyanah needed to go to the bank for a bit to sort out some account. They’ll fetch him after.”

Rabia’s eyes widened. I didn’t tell anyone in my family that he’d be here because I knew that they’d make a big deal over it. Like I was completely incapable.

As it is, Liyaket was supposed to be my best friend, but when he’d phoned ten minutes back, I could hear the humour in his voice as he was obviously calling to check on me, and not on the baby. And yes, when he had told me he would be coming into town and needed a hand with the baby, all I thought to myself was that it couldn’t be that hard, right?

Feed, play, sleep, right? Whatever. I was a little hesitant but as always, I wasn’t one to turn away a challenge.

Plus, soon I’d be leaving for the trip of my lifetime and I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to spend some alone time with the little guy again.

“The thing was, I wanted to be as available as possible. Liyaket didn’t have many people who were there for him and i wanted to be one of the few who were.

“They actually left him here alone with you?” She said, blinking in shock. “Looking after a baby? And you are this calm? Where is my spoilt and selfish brother and what have you done with him?!”

I grinned, despite her insults.

“Seriously, though,” she said, rocking Zaid as his eyes fluttered open again. I threw her his dummy in case he started wailing. “Doesn’t this just make you want another baby in the family?”

I narrowed my eyes at her, not really knowing how to answer that. I for sure, was not planning on it anytime soon.

“Let’s get to the marriage part first,” I said with a raise of my eyebrows, not mentioning Imraan on purpose as she looked away, pulling her face at the marriage part.

My sister may be an outright pest who interfered the ith everyone, but I also knew that she had gone through a pretty rough marriage and didn’t exactly come out with the best of mindsets. To top it off, last weeks Samoosa run with a guy who I had met at work had been an absolute lost cause, and she had made it very clear that she was giving up all hope of ever finding a decent man to marry.

As for my brother, I knew that his wife was kind of desperate for another kid. He had told me to make Duaa this time, when I went out with Molvi, for that specific thing, and I would.

This time, going out was going to be a completely different experience.

A mixture of nerves and excitement overcame me as I thought about how my first trip with Molvi out of the country in would pan out. I just couldn’t seem to contain my excitement.

And despite my contentment, I didn’t think many people could digest how I had just filed for unpaid leave after just a month of work. Audits, taxation and accounting no longer psyched me up like it used to. It’s like I had been completely consumed by another purpose.. a great calling that my heart was fervently yearning for…

Those few weeks with Maulana Umar had altered me, and as much as my heart was being captured now, there was no going back now.

Zaid was looking slightly unsettled as I watched him with Rabia, noticing him sucking on his fingers relentlessly. Hungry or tired? It was the greatest mystery in the land of tiny beings.

“I’m in love,” She declared, cradling baby Zaid close to her as he snuggled in.

I needed to have a chat with him. He was such a comfort creature with the ladies that it was almost embarrassing.This behavior was simply not on. If he continued like this , the ladies were going to have a field day with him. Not that he minded. But still. A little dignity at least.

Zaid’s eyes were now finally closed, and we placed him carefully on his size in a little cushion type thing that was apparently designed just for babies.

“Can’t I just wait for him to grow up?” She said quietly, careful not to stir him. She didn’t know that he slept like a log. “If I have to go through another Samoosa run I’ll just die.”

”Me too,” I said with a grin just messing around with her, sitting back now and placing my legs on the coffee table as I was finally able to relax. “Fed up of samoosas.”

Sheesh. This parenting this was no walk in the park. Now I knew why Liyaket cherished nap time so much.

Rabia gave me an unimpressed look. She obviously didn’t appreciate the humour.

”You don’t even know what a Samoosa run is!” She said bitterly. “Besides, when we went to Mohsina’s house, they didn’t even serve samoosas. They served moons and pies. Really now. Did you guys actually plan it that way?”

She looked at me sceptically and I smiled, not being able to dissolve the memory that it brought back. It was still funny even now, as I thought of it months later.

And because Mohsina’s expertise was to stir up things, the Samoosa saga was her way to get back at her Nani. It was her  idea to go against tradition and I knew that she had done it just because she wanted to annoy her.

And as we had just arrived at the house, after a few minutes  minutes of sitting and listening to general business talk of the men, I kind of decided that I needed a breather.

It may have been the plan, or just pure coincidence that on my way,  I had caught sight of Mohsina, outside the kitchen door, seizing the opportunity to have a quick chat before anyone else saw us.

”Hey,” she said, taking a step back into the kitchen and frowning at me, her cheeks slightly flushed. Her sister, who was in the room, cautiously made her way out. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

And I smiled guiltily, because I knew she was right. If Nani had to get wind of this, I would probably be in for it.  But I was drawn to her, well, not just because of how pretty she looked that day, but to be honest, because from the kitchen was the smell of something yummy and I hadn’t had time for lunch..

”I know,” I said indignantly, but not making any attempt to leave either. All I wanted was a samoosa. “Just checking what’s on the menu…”

It was just an excuse and she had turned away with a shake of her head, and I kept my distance, because I did still respect the rules we had set.

And as I watched her silently,  I could see her strategically taking some things out into a Tupperware, and placing some more things on a platter, before turning around to face me, with a triumphant expression on her face.

“You want to see something funny,” she had said mischievously with a grin, as we peeked into the room from where we were standing. “Watch Nani’s expression.”

I already knew that Nani was a really traditional character, and that made me like her even more. I had a feeling that she was probably the only one who Mohsina truly, but secretly took seriously.

It was just that I wasn’t quite sure if she would like me, so bringing the flowers that day was my form of a trade off for her approval. The dynamic between her and Mohsina had also intrigued me significantly, and I could see that Mohsina was itching to put some masala in the works that day, and she was very much successful.

I stood behind as we peeked into the room where the food was, from where we were standing, while Mohsina went onto the other side, scanning it for Nani and notably noticing her face change while she looked from one platter to the other, literally searching for samoosas, while I could hear someone asking where Mohsina was.

I could see Nani getting a little worked up, as she was calling for who I presumed was Mohsina’s mother… and that’s when Mohsina quickly straightened her scarf, gave me a warning glare that spelt that I better get out of there without a word of what she had just done, and made her appearance in the room once again, as if she was not just behaving like a unruly child a few minutes before that.

I was chuckling randomly for a good ten minutes after. For some reason, Mohsina got a kick out of living on the edge, and causing a stir. It was just that, living in the edge sometimes led to catastrophic consequences.

I stifled my sigh, looking at Rabia as she got up to put the kettle on. Looked like she wasn’t heading out after all.

And yes, as for Mohsina, maybe I should have known from the very beginning that her nature was a little erratic, but I thought that she would be able to draw boundaries where it mattered.

And now, more than ever, the lessons from the mistakes I had made now stood out greater than ever.

‘Knowing’ someone before you got proposed didn’t change a thing. Knowing someone before , set up expectations that sometimes didn’t materialize. Knowing someone before, having those memories, was something that stuck with you and literally hounded you… even when you were trying your utmost to move past it.

I sought refuge from the wrong I had done, from every sin that I thought was little, from every word I had said that may have been a source of Allah’s wrath raining down on me.

Astaghfirullah.

And now, as I found a new path in life, I knew that I had  found something better. By changing my life, by maintaining my respect… by keeping my honour intact, Allah had granted me not only peace… but a contentment that felt like I was coming home, every time I surrendered to Him.

Now, I knew better. I would do better. I knew that I’d never set myself up for so much of pain and heartache, the way that I had before.. Next time, I would play it safe.

I looked at my sister, who was still waiting for an answer.

”I think we can just blame it all on the samoosas,” I said with a grim smile. “Or lack there of. Next time, please insist- samoosas are obligatory.”

Rabia let out a loud burst of laughter.

And yes, I felt sorry for her, and she had it tough, but although  I wasn’t the biggest fan of her ex-husband, I couldn’t blame anything on him solely. Marriage is two people who are equally choosing to either make it or break it. Or maybe it wasn’t all that simple. I didn’t have all the answers, but I did know that I had plenty of time.

“No more Samoosa for me anytime soon,” she said blandly. “The problem is that everyone else gets the extra rich, cheesey ones and I’m just stuck with the tinfish.”

Tinfish samoosas? I chuckled.

“When I meet that husband of mine,” she continued with a frown. “If he even exists… I’m going to give him one big smack, for taking so bloody long.. howcome everyone has such good luck? … It’s so unfair… I met a girl ones who didn’t even have to go through all of this. Along came one rich, handsome guy from the blue and pitched up to propose. How unfair is that? And then Shabana… remember our second cousin..? she’s so spoilt rotten, can’t cook and doesn’t even greet properly when we meet her, but she got such a nice guy. And people like me end up with the rotten leftover.”

Ah, here we go again, the old ‘howcome’ saga. Howcome they get it all and we don’t? Rabia was a big fan of it and I wasn’t.

I shrugged.

“It’s Allah’s justice system,” I said simply. “You can’t question it. Allah already knows both sides of the story. We are all sinners and have done bad things. Everyone has their tests… look at people who are worse off than you before you start comparing…”

It was the golden rule to combat jealousy. And even if someone is bad to you, indeed, isn’t Allah is in charge of the how, why and where of punishment? If not now, will Allah Taála not even the scales at some point?

In a verse of Holy Qurán Allah says:

“… Indeed, Allah loves those who act justly.” (Holy Quran 60:8)

If we want to take our matters into our own hands, when Allah is the ultimate judge, is this not an injustice?

Rabia shrugged and sighed, looking at the sleeping Zaid and planting a kiss on his forehead, downing her cup of tea before getting up to leave again.

And yes, I understood her point. There are times when I wonder how people who I know or once knew ever got away with things that they did. There were times when I wondered how the scales will be evened, when it seems like nothing in life is fair and will ever be okay again.

But all these feelings… this hostility… the aversion to people… the ill feelings… it all went away when I took a new step in my new journey of life.

I didn’t have to hold onto past grievances because I had full faith that Allah already knew exactly what my heart had been through and had a perfect plan that was just for me.

And yes, for now, I had found a place where my heart was at ease… and I had found home.

I knew that if Allah was in my side, whatever hurt, whatever pain… I knew that my Allah would never abandon me.

Home was where my heart was contented and where I really had no desire to be anywhere else but where I was right then.

And as I got up and left Zaid in his sleepy silence for a good few minutes, I found my mind switching back to the present once again.

It was just two days left, before I would be leaving again, and I could barely wait.

And I supposed it was his luck that as he shifted again and the front door opened, with both my sister-in-law and my mother entering, the huge wail that escaped from his mouth got them both rushing over and swooning over him like they’d never seen a baby before in their lives.

Life, huh? It was weird that way. One way you were a normal person with not much purpose, and the next moment you have this tiny human being who turns everything around and brings a light even in the darkest of times…

Sometimes home wasn’t a place. Sometimes home was a feeling. Sometimes home was two eyes and a beating heart, and sometimes that home was all that mattered.

It was just three weeks, I told myself, feeling amazingly discomforted by the fact that I would be away from Zaid for so long. It felt liek a lifetime and I was beginning to feel like a real parent now.

Feelings of guilt and missing out on important milestones of his life were starting to plague me. This whole parenting this was becoming a little too a serious for me, but I couldn’t stop it. I supposed once it hit you, there was no going back.

My world had already changed, and life was already so different to the one of that free-spirited and carefree guy that I glimpsed in the mirror just a few months ago.

What I didn’t know that coming back home after three weeks would feel like I was coming back to a completely different world…

---

Mission Sunnah Revival

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

Sunnah of being best to our family.

Aisha (RA) reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “The best of you are the best to their families, and I am the best to my family...”

Source: Sunan al-Tirmidhī 3895

Du’aa for Rajab 

اَللّهُمَّ بَارِكْ لَنَا فِى رَجَبَ وَ شَعْبَانَ وَ بَلِّغْنَا رَمَضَان

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

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

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

Finding Courage

 

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Drink this.”

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

He studied the glass carefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded.

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

Aadam cocked his head and looked at me pensively.

“Please do go on,” he said innocently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

Dearest Readers 

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

Duaas always needed 

Much Love

A xx

Duaa at the onset of Rajab, do recite.

Don’t forget our Sunnah Revival!

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

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

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

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

 

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

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! 

FB: The Journeying Muslimah

 

 

#RevivetyesunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

 

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

When Responsibility Calls

Bismihi Ta’ala

Zuleikha

Responsibility. It really is a mouthful isn’t it? Not just to pronounce… but a helluva lot to digest too.

Responsibility doesn’t end. Once you get past the curfews and the glasses and the braces… the responsibility doesn’t go away. Either someone makes us face it or we are forced to suffer the consequences.

I once had a friend that used to make breaks for me. All the time. She would lie to the lecturers for me. She would hide my whereabouts from the nosy girls who wanted to interfere in my business. She had even distracted my father when he came to campus once (can you believe it?) to check on me.

She was the one who bunked lectures with me to go to movies or lunch or just to be daring and play some forbidden game of cards that was the popular hobby at the cafeteria.

At that time, she was the best friend I could have asked for. Someone who stuck by me, became my bosom bunking pal and got me out of trouble at all the right times. She was a needle in the hay stack. She was really fun too. When she had to leave because of bad grades and restricted finances, I was heartbroken. And of course, it was all in the plan Allah had for me… because someone to cover my back when I was getting out of control was never going to turn out well.

I often wondered about that friend that I had. We had lost contact over the years, and though in retrospect, I still saw her as a loyal friend… what I didn’t comprehend  was why she never told me to stop my messing around and get my act together. She wasn’t a bad girl but she never tried to guide me. Sometimes I wondered in those days of ignorance…. if I had a little guidance.. maybe I might have been better off.

But thats when I came to know the meaning of a responsibility, and a righteous friend. Friendship is not only a social construct… but a religiously significant relationship. The best ones are the ones that bring us closer to Allah. A righteous friend is the one we should aim for. Loyalty is an amazing character trait but the action of forbidding evil and enjoining good has a completely different appeal… and always triumphs, even in the long run. It was only when I met my dear friend Zaynah, that I realized what was truly worth having in a friend.

And it was only then that I saw the truth of friendship and responsibility. Although friends are supposed to be a guidance too… We can’t blame anyone else for our own downfalls. We make the decisions. We have to accept responsibility. We have to realize that maybe the only person really responsible for everything we were going through, was ourselves…

And right then, as I looked at my brother, I knew someone would have to take responsibility here.

“Will you tell me what happened?” I asked, because I couldn’t stand him looking at me with that emptiness that he always did. Like the world owes him something.

“Khawlah is devastated,” I continued as he looked at me blankly.  “She’s going through hell with her mother-in-law… and now, this is just making it all worse. Rubeena just told them she’s asked for a divorce.”

It had been a huge and unexpected event at her mother-in-laws place the previous night and I was absolutely appalled that Ahmed’s name had come in. I didn’t want to make any accusations but the odds were completely against him.

”I did nothing,” Ahmed growled. “All I did was answer my phone.”

”So you never called her?” I asked, crossing my arms and raising my eyebrows. “Not even once?”

Ahmed looked away guiltily and I sighed.

”But Khawlah said she warned you!” I suddenly snapped, trying to make him see reason. “She told you to stay away from her. She’s a married woman for goodness sake! Didn’t you know that?”

”If she acted like a married woman,” he muttered. “Then I would have believed it.”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

All these months, I thought Ahmed was busy with his finance course. I was happy that he was getting his act together, getting with the right people and finding some focus in life. If this was true it was going to ruin us all…

“What if it was me?” I asked him suddenly,  itching to get some sort of reaction out of him. “What if it was me who someone was speaking to? What would you have done to that guy?”

”I would have probably killed him,” Ahmed said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Exactly!”

“But then again, if you had a husband like hers who was still up to crap…”

I closed my eyes and shook my head. That was not the answer I wanted.

“Listen,” he said, his face hard as he looked at me. “When your husband was messing around, I rattled him to show him that I didn’t like it. He got his stuff together. Fast. Yes, Shabeer is an idiot, but all Rubeena said was she wants a divorce. I told Khawlah to leave me alone and I’ll tell you the same. What you guys all on about?”

”The problem is,” I said through gritted teeth. “You have become the reason for her asking for a divorce. You need to stop talking to her. Right now!”

Ahmed shrugged, not giving much away. He didn’t refute my accusation. That could only mean that he was speaking to her, right?

“I’m serious,” I warned him. “This is not a joke.”

“Alryt,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Whatever you say, Mummy.”

I wanted to twist his ear. He wasn’t even giving me proper answers. He was treating it like a joke. He didn’t realize the seriousness of the situation. She was married with four kids. Leave alone the age gap that was more than ten years…

Gosh. Did he even know what he was getting himself into? Maybe he just wanted me to think that something was going on. My brother was always a little crazy.

I googled the Hadith on my phone, about the man who came to the Prophet (SAW), requesting permission to commit Zinaa. I promptly sent it to him, not just to rattle him up a bit… but in the hope that Allah would purify his heart, if there were ever any evil intentions…

Abu Umama Al-Bahily (may Allah be pleased with him) narrated that a young man came to the Prophet (SAW) and said:

‘O Messenger of Allah (SAW), give me a permission to commit  Zina.’

The Companions turned to him and started rebuking him. The Prophet (SAW) said: “Come closer.“

When the young man drew nearer to the Prophet (SAW) and sat down, the Prophet (SAW) asked him: “Would you like it for your mother?“

The man answered; No, by Allah. May Allah make me a protection for you!

The Prophet (SAW) commented, “People also do not like it for their mothers.” The Prophet added, “Would you like it for your daughter?“

Again, the young man answered negatively. So, the Prophet (SAW) said, “People too would not love it for their daughters“

Further, the Prophet (SAW) asked, “Would you like it for your sister?” The Prophet received the same answer and made the same comment. The Prophet went on asking about the man’s paternal and maternal aunts. The young man’s answer was the same and the Prophet (SAW) repeated the same comment, “People do not like that for their aunts.“

The Prophet (SAW) then placed his hand on the young man and prayed for him, “O Allah, forgive his sins, purify his heart, and protect his chastity.“

Abu Umamah, the narrator of the hadith, said that the young man did not pay heed to any temptation thereafter. (Authenticated by Al-Albani)

And I really wanted to lecture him relentlessly, but the thing is, I knew it would just make Ahmed rebellious. I had to be patient and understanding too… gentle like the Prophet (SAW) had been when the man suggested even the most atrocious of acts.

And as it happens, I actually didn’t need to do much rattling because just as I was about to open my mouth, there was a tap on the door before my dear Khawlah pushed it open.

I looked at my sister, and I couldn’t help but notice that for the first time in months, her face was drawn and grim. The glow that marriage had brought for her had been diminished. I could see her looking from Ahmed to me in expectation.  I only hoped that this hadn’t caused any problems between her and Aadam. That would be terrible. My sister did look like she had been crying…

”How are you, Khawlah?” I asked kindly, moving aside so she could sit next to me. The was a shadow of a smile on her pretty face, but she remained standing as she watched us, almost as if she was waiting for Ahmed to say something.

Ahmed looked away and ignored her. I guessed that there had been some words between them that weren’t very pleasant. My heart ached to see the trouble that this had caused.

“Can you talk some sense into him please?” She said finally, closing her eyes and inhaling, as if the whole world was on her shoulders.

“Did your mother-in-law say how she had found out about them?” I asked carefully, still wondering how contact between Ahmed and Rubeena had gotten to her ears.

Khawlah shrugged.

“I think someone called her,” Khawlah said. “Maybe Hannah. Sounds like something she would do.”

Or maybe Aunty Nas, upset that everything seemed to be working out for Khawlah and not Hannah. Aunty Nas always had an exceptionally mean streak when it come to Khawlah. Lucky Khawlah was tough… but I think that pushed Aunty Nas more to do the things she did. At the time it was just so heartbreaking to see my little sister put up with that. She was so strong.

“Which reminds me… I need to go and see Hannah,” she said quietly. “I’ve just got so much on my head right now… My in-laws are freaking about Rubeena. I have exams coming up and I can barely concentrate…”

It was strange to see my sister so worked up. So upset. I wished I could take her into my arms, and tell her it would all be okay. I wished that this hadn’t blown out of proportion the way it did.

Ahmed didn’t say a thing. He just looked like his usual unemotional self as he looked back at us…

“Shabeer gave one Talaaq yesterday,” Khawlah said finally, looking upset. I couldn’t help but notice Ahmed’s expression change. “My mother-in-law has gone into depression. She’s not even talking to Aadam, because she thinks he’s in favor of you guys or whatever is happening. Aadam knew nothing…”

I swallowed. He actually gave the divorce? 

”Shit man,” Ahmed said, shaking his head and beginning to pace. Finally some reaction. At least now he realized how serious it was. “This woman’s making my life hell!”

“This woman?!” Khawlah retorted angrily, and I could see her step forward as she pointed a finger threateningly. “Please Ahmed, don’t act so innocent! You obviously led her on! She’s got four kids! Are you ready to take that on? You’re barely even an adult yourself, for goodness sake!”

”How the hell did I lead her on?!” He shouted back. “Do you have any proof? You can’t just go around accusing people of things. You just all cut up about Khalid so you can’t think straight… as usual. Does Aadam even know?”

I wanted to cover my eyes and block my ears. These two were really going for it. Both were being unreasonable. It had been years since I saw them fighting like this.

”Oh shut up!” Khawlah spat at him, and I could see the tears filling her eyes as she blinked angrily. “This has nothing to do with Khalid. Don’t turn the tables around and make it about me!”

”Get over yourself, goodie-two-shoes,” Ahmed growled at her. “You don’t own Rubeena. I can talk to who I want to.”

”Well, that’s where you wrong!” Khawlah screamed back at him. “You can’t just do what you feel! It’s a sin! You have to be accountable-“

”Will both of you just STOP?!” I bellowed, cutting her off and knowing that this was going to cause a huge rift between them if they continued like this. It probably already did.

I could see Yunus standing in the doorway, looking a bit shocked. Thankfully Dada was asleep. How he slept through all of this was a mystery in itself.

“Don’t you’ll see what you’ll are doing?!” I asked them, looking at them angrily. “Someone is trying to cause problems and you’ll are letting them. Can’t we just talk this through? Khawlah, please calm down. Ahmed, can you please just sort it out?”

This was getting bad. The two of them were literally at each other’s throats and I was right here in the middle of it. I knew Ahmed would never hurt Khawlah but he was getting really angry. As for the issue of Khalid… I meant to ask my sister but I never got around to doing it. I figured it was a sensitive topic but I knew that Khawlah would never hide anything important from Aadam.

I could see Ahmed’s shoulders heaving and his furrowed brow deepening as he glared at her. It was pretty scary… but Khawlah was glaring right back. They were both relentless. Two of a kind.

As for Ahmed, I knew he liked to wind people up to get a reaction. Whether he was saying all that stuff about Khalid and  Rubeena for attention was another story altogether…

”Please Ahmed,” I begged, trying to get through to my stubborn brother. “Can you just stop this nonsense?”

”Zuleikha, I swear I didn’t!” Ahmed said, his amber eyes full of  fury. “I met her once. I gave her some documents. It was a public place. All I said was I’ll help her to speak to the guys who were after her idiotic husband. It never went farther than that…”

He looked away and I couldn’t tell if he had spoken the truth. Was he just covering his tracks? Why was Khawlah so convinced about something more going on? Was there something that she knew that she wasn’t saying.

My brother and sister had a relationship where they would tell each other whatever they needed to with no reservations… but I also had a feeling they both knew secrets about each other that no-one else did.

I sighed while Khawlah stood at the door and scowled. She finally turned her back and left.

Such a huge, unimaginable mess. Obviously someone had seen the two of them together and it had gotten to the wrong ears. Or maybe someone was trying really hard to make Rubeena seem like a loose woman…

“You need to get some advice,” I said, trying to think straight. He needed to get into contact with his Maulana again. He needed to refocus his life. Maybe make another trip away from home, to get away from this.

I blinked as Ahmed threw on a Kurta next to me, and started putting on his shoes as if he was suddenly in a hurry. It was like something had suddenly been ignited in him, as he got ready to leave. I had a feeling that he was finally going to take responsibility for this… but I wasn’t sure if I would like what it had to bring.

“Ahmed, what are you doing?” I asked, a little confused. Where exactly was he going right now? 

“What do you think?” he said, looking at me in frustration. “You told me what I must do, didn’t you? I’m going to sort this out once and for all… and you’re coming with me.”

---

Dear readers, 

 

A little bit of drama but we are getting to calmer parts soon… 

Shukran to all for reading

Much Love, 

A 🌸 

Beloved Nabi (SAW) has said:

“The person who perfectly maintains the ties of kinship is not the one who does it because he gets recompensed by his relatives (for being kind and good to them), but the one who truly maintains the bonds of kinship is the one who persists in doing so even though the latter has severed the ties of kinship with him“. [Al-Bukhari].

May Allah Ta’ala enable us to rekindle any ties of kingship that may have been severed. It is truly a great reward and Sunnah.

 

What Tomorrow will Bring

Bismillahir Rahmaanir Raheem

Zuleikha

My Dearest Zuleikha,

It’s been ten years….

I’m sure you can’t believe it. By now I have probably become a distant memory or a passing thought… a fleeting moment of childhood that you can’t quite recall.

I already miss you all… as I sit in bed today and pen this letter with so much to say, but so little time. 

Today is not a good day. I can’t get out of bed. The body pains are a little more severe. My heart feels a little more burdened. I’m a little scared… scared that my time here is nearly up. I know I shouldn’t be afraid, but I’m more scared for you all …

Ten years? Had it already been ten years since Mama passed away? The tears flowed freely, as I reached out to brush them away. What hurt the most was picturing Mama in pain on those last few days, imagining her carefully penning this letter, with so much of thought…. and I had no idea.

At least now… now, there is no more pain.

Zuleikha, I wish I had the words to say what I needed to. You may be wondering why you are only getting this letter now. I was afraid that at your tender age, as you are at present… you may not know how to handle this. Now that you are grown up, hopefully married, and have children of your own, I think you will understand better.

I glanced at Muhammed fondly, as he slept. Of course he would never know my mother, but I know that he would have loved her to bits.

I turned my attention back to the page.

No matter what happens, or has happened, please remember that I love you all very much. Your father has been my rock… an unwavering support to me in this time of illness.. but when I glimpse his soul, I, from all people, can tell they he carries a great burden. He feels like his world is crumbling. He does not know how to deal with this. He is so scared about letting me go.

Zuleikha, my princess, I have full faith in your strength and choices. I can see your protective nature.. and I can see your inherent maternal instinct when it comes to your siblings. You are most like your father. You have an amazing ability to see goodness in people, but I’m also afraid that this may cause you to make hasty decisions.

Please be careful. Please don’t let your heart rule your mind. I know we all make difficult choices sometimes, and even though you are probably already grown up, I’m certain that you have found peace within yourself along the way. I am certain that you have found Allah. 

As for your siblings, for Ahmed… he reminds me so much of my own father. He is fierce and pensive at the same time. Don’t let his nature bother you, if he challenges you. Just remind him that I love him so much though, won’t you?

For Khawlah… My dear Khawlah.. who I always called the fire of our lives.. I’m certain that as she grows up, she will find something in life that will calm her force. Maybe she will go on to be the flame of the family that we always knew her to be. Maybe she will meet someone along the way that simmers her down.

Tell her that her Mama says she’s never too tough for her own good. She’s going to need the strength. Life out there is not as sunny as she knows it to be.

As for Yunus… right now he is lying next to me, writing his own letter (which is just a series of scribbles), and the three of you, with Khalid from down the road, can be heard while you’ll argue about who’s going to be the next to be the monkey in the middle. I wish I could be there right with you’ll. I wish I had the strength in me to drag myself out of this bed, and take Yunus with me.

He already seems so lost. Even though he is the youngest, it’s like he understands the most about what’s happening to me. Please tell him Allah needs to be his best friend, not me. Let him know that he’ll always be my baby, alryt?

Feeling a bit tired now. I might take a nap. I wanted to leave something behind for you. Something that can remind you of me… For all of you. We never know what tomorrow will bring, but I always heard that if you love someone, you need to let them know while they can still hear it. While you can still say it. Over the years, a lot may have change, but please know that I love you more than words can say. More than you’ll ever know.  

Remember that growing up means making mistakes. We break. We fall. We fail. But then, we rise and we heal… we overcome. And through it all, we grow…

Please remember to read for me every day. Even if it’s just one Surah Ikhlaas… one ayat… one word… One silent Du’aa.

Don’t forget that you’ll always be my Princess.

Love you to the moon and back,

Your Mama

I breathed in and folded the letter carefully, letting it hit home as I neatly fitted it’s contents back into the envelope it had come in, and finally lifting my gaze to look at my sister.

Her eyes were glazed over and her expression was completely unreadable. Almost stunned.

“When did Dada give it to you?” she asked softly, after a few moments.

“Yesterday,” I said, remembering the shock waves that pulsated through my body as I first read the letter. Mama’s writing… her flowy words… It was almost like I could go back there in my mind and enter that world once again. Almost.

“Strange that she gave it to Dada, ” she murmured.

I had thought the same thing. Why hadn’t she given it to Abba?

Maybe she knew that Abba might marry again. I was sure that if Aunty Nas had come across the letter, she would have probably burnt it.

“Do you think there’s more?” Khawlah asked, her eyes lighting up.

Oh, that would be wonderful.

Dada refused to tell me though. It was amazing how Allah had worked it, and brought him back into our lives too.

I shrugged, trying to remain neutral. I supposed that time would tell. The possibility was really quite exciting.

“Mama really knew us so well,” Khawlah whispered suddenly, and I could see that she was trying really hard not to cry. She inhaled deeply as she turned to look at Muhammed napping on her bed.

My son had grown so much, an I could barely believe that he was over a year. Where had the time gone? Where had these ten years flown to?

”That’s a mother,” I said, giving her a small smile. “A mother … She is so in tune to her kids… even when we barely knew it.”

A mother will sacrifice anything for her kids. It was no wonder that Paradise lay at her feet.

”What was she like…?” Khawlah ventured easily, looking emotionally stronger as she raised her gaze again. “Like before she got… sick?”

I blinked, processing Khawlah’s words as I remembered how tiny she was when Mama had passed. Was she really only six?

I had some really good memories of my mother that I clung onto… but for Khawlah… she probably didn’t remember a thing. To have nothing much to link you to the women that carried you before you came into this world… I couldn’t imagine.

“She was actually very much like you now,” I said, the realization of it actually startling me, as I looked at my beautiful sister.

Khawlah’s dainty nose and her darkly rimmed eyes were exactly like my mothers. Her high cheekbones were more defined now as she grew, and every day I saw her, it was like she was turning into my mother… in almost every way. A spine of steel, yet soft at the edges. Since Khawlah’s personality had simmered down, her sensibility, compassion and wit were exactly like Mama’s. It was no wonder that Khawlah was my father’s favourite, though they would never admit it.

”She was so adventurous,” I said, grinning. “She loved the outdoors. She loved to swing. It was her favourite thing. As of course, she was obsessed with gardening… just like you.”

Khawlah smiled, and looked away.

“She also gave the best hugs,” I said, remembering that clearly. “Like Foi Nani. And her hair always smelt like… so good… like peach and vanilla… It was gorgeous.. .

Khawlah eyes lit up.

“That, I remember,” she said with a teary grin. “And her hands were always so soft. Even though she was so thin… I just wish I’d known her more… a little longer…”

It was a simple statement but it shot straight to the heart. Mama was so young when she passed away. Maybe only ten years older than me. It was Allah’s will. That alone was my comfort. We just never know when our time will be up… when it’s too late to tell someone you love them..

Reading Mama’s letter now though, reminded me of what I needed to tell my sister. Coming here to see her for a while, since she had been so busy, was my way of a bonding session… and also getting to the bottom of Jameel’s narration from the previous day.

Jameel had actually found the whole incident really quite amusing, but I wasn’t sure if it was as funny as he thought. It was earlier that morning that he had come in after his run, looking strangely excited about something.

“You’ve got a smirk on your face,” I challenged him, as I got out the pan to make his breakfast. Something was up.

He was grinning as she shook his head at me and winked.

“Leikha, is your entire family like Jihaad-trained or something?”

Now it was my turn to raise my eyebrows. Well, he liked to pick on Ahmed… and of course, that needed no explanation. Ahmed made it no secret that he would probably kill Jameel if he didn’t sort his stuff out. At least something had scared Jameel enough to get his act together.

“Maybe,” I said mysteriously, not knowing where he was going with this.

“I met a guy that I knew in the past…” he said thoughtfully. “And I didn’t actually realise who he was until now.”

I frowned.

“Who?” I said as I cracked the egg on the side of the bowl, watching it’s contents pour out. The simmering of moisture on the hot oil gave me a weird sense of satisfaction.

“Khawlah’s brother-in-law,” he said, with a weird edge to his voice. “We go way back.”

I didn’t want to ask him more. Sometimes delving into Jameel’s past brought ugly skelteons from the closet. These days, I was workng on moving past those into the very optimistic future.

“And?” I asked, now getting curious as I tossed the egg around. That could only be Rubeena’s husband, right?
“He said he met your sister for the first time the other day,” he said blandly, before he raised his eyebrows. “Apparently she tried to kill him”

Of course, I couldn’t help but gasp as he said it.

Why would he say that? More importantly, was it true?

Jameel chuckled to himself as he shrugged it off, quite amused by the whole incident.

“Some guys find that stuff intriguing,” his tone a bit more serious now. “Sick. You need to tell her to watch out.”

Uh-Oh. This guy did sound like a piece of work.

I looked at my husband fondly. I couldn’t believe that he had changed so much and I never thought it was possible.

The three years of battling drug addictions and crazy fights seemed like a distant memory now. He kept a distance from his female cousins now, because he knew it was the better thing to do… and of course, caused less problems.

Somehow, after meeting lovely Zaynah, and taking her advice, everything was falling into place. She was the person that Allah had sent to be my means. She had been there in that critical time… 

Sometimes when we’re going through the storm, we forget that there’s an end to it. That after every difficulty there is an ease. That tomorrow will always bring a brighter day…

Of course, Mama’s words had rung so true. We fall..  we fail… we break. But, after it all, we rise. We overcome… And that’s exactly how we grow.

And it wasn’t anything less than a miracle. It was purely the intention that by changing my life, hopefully, by the blessing of that, Allah will change Jameel’s heart too.

And it was simply mind blowing how much Jameel had grown right in front of me. From an irresponsible guy to a father figure, who took life so much more seriously now.

After Khawlah had married Aadam, who he was surprisingly fond of, Jameel seeing his good habits had also had an amazing influence on him.

And no, he hadn’t become a saint overnight… but the fact was that I could see him making an effort. He didn’t make it to mosque every Salaah, but because he saw me praying, his focus had also changed. He really was different person and I was eternally grateful for that. How Allah can take someone whose on a completely different path and turn their heart was completely beyond my understanding.

Abdullah b. Amr b. al-‘As reported that he heard Allah’s Messenger (may peace be upon him) as saying: Verily, the hearts of all the sons of Adam are between the two fingers out of the fingers of the Compassionate Lord as one heart. He turns that to any (direction) He likes. Then Allahs Messenger (may peace be upon him) said: 0 Allah, the Turner of the hearts, turn our hearts to Thine obedience. (Sahih Muslim)

“Khawlah, is everything okay with your in laws?” I asked carefully, not wanting to pry either.

Everyone has issues at the beginning. I was just so glad that mine had simmered down after Muhammed had become a part of our lives. I think the fact that I let my mother-in-law see to Muhammed with no restrictions had made me a much more admirable person for her. Her whole attitude had changed when she saw me open up to her.  I mean, it was a win-win situation. It gave me relief and she was too occupied now to worry about making anyone else’s life a misery.

“Why?” Khawlah said, and I could immediately sense her defense up. “Did someone tell you something?”

I shrugged.

“Jameel knows Rubeena’s husband,” I said, shrugging. “Somehow. He said you need to be careful. Some people are scarily crazy.”

”I know,” Khawlah said with a sigh. “I didn’t mean to threaten him. I don’t know why I got so angry. He just reminded so me so much of Hannah. And I know it’s Allah’s plan, but now that Ruby’s had a miscarriage, everything’s gone upside down again…”

“Inna Lillahi..” I said automatically, feeling terrible for Rubeena. I didn’t know she was pregnant but I could imagine how emotionally and physically taxing a miscarriage was.

“I actually just can’t wait for Aadam to come back,” she said, a little dreamily. “I didn’t expect to miss him so much, you know? My heart feels like it’s been invaded. It’s like there’s a piece missing.”

I smiled. Khawlah in love. Hopelessly.

Who would have ever thought that my feisty sister could surrender her heart to the most unassuming character in such a short time?

He was really so different to what I had imagined for her. Jameel had said that he was hilarious. Out of the ordinary. I was quite amazed, but so glad that my sister had found a unimaginable source of magic in him. A contentment that added so much of flavour to her life.

And as I saw her, I actually couldn’t believe that our Khawlah had changed so much. Since her Nikah, I was startled by the revolutionary transformation in my sister. She seemed so much lighter. More free. She was positively glowing from the inside, and honestly, I’d never seen her smile and laugh so much in her life.

That was the effect of a love so deep, that I could not even comprehend. Because once in a while, you do come across a perfect love. A love that not only lifted you and raised you, but also gave you the kind of deep contentment that made you constantly turn to Allah in sublime gratitude.

It gave me an elation that I never knew I could feel from seeing someone else’s joy.

”It’s just one more sleep,” I said to her with a smile, knowing that Aadam was due back tomorrow.

“I’m half dreading tomorrow,” she revealed, with a huge sigh. “My mother-in-law has this huge function planned, where she invited half the world… and I really don’t want to be there. I don’t think Aadam will be too thrilled about it either. Rubeena says it’s her way at getting back at us for not having the huge wedding function she wanted… she’s really something else.”

”I had actually heard my mother-in-law say something about it but she didn’t elaborate,” I said, recalling it vaguely.

I wondered if she was invited. I knew that they were some distant connection. It wasn’t a huge wonder.

“If she’s invited you have to come with,” she urged, sounding a bit relieved. “I need some moral support. Please just come.”

“I’ll try,” I said, sensing her desperation.

I wished that I could tell her to make Sabr… but I knew that it was easier said than done.

“Just focus on Aadam tomorrow,” I smiled, winking at her. “Give him a good welcome home.”

She rolled her eyes and blushed slightly.

“I can assure you that I will probably not even get one minute with him alone,”  she muttered bluntly.

I sighed. That was probably true.

“Ask Allah to change her heart… and tell Aadam to make Du’aa for her too. That’s the only thing that’s going to bring you’ll through…”

And of course, as I left my sister later that day, I could even feel my own spirits lifting.

Khawlah would be fine.

She was strong, right? She would get through whatever tomorrow had in store for her. This tomorrow, and all the ones that followed. She had that perfect faith and phenomenal strength that was not only dependant on the physical. Her’s was a strength that went to the very depths of her soul.

We were so different yet I loved her with every ounce of me. My sister was blossoming into an extraordinary butterfly and seeing that made me heart soar. Of course she would conquer whatever battles came her way… but for tomorrow, well…

I think we just didn’t know it yet.. but what tomorrow had to bring was going to be battle of it’s own..

---

A man came to Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ) and said, “O Allah’s Messenger (ﷺ)! Who is more entitled to be treated with the best companionship by me?” The Prophet (ﷺ) said, “Your mother.” The man said. “Who is next?” The Prophet said, “Your mother.” The man further said, “Who is next?” The Prophet (ﷺ) said, “Your mother.” The man asked for the fourth time, “Who is next?” The Prophet (ﷺ) said, “Your father. “

Being good to our parents is also an Ibadat and part of Akhlaaq. As they get older, it definitely does get harder. Allah make it easy for us to fulfill their right as they had looked after us when we were young .

May Allah grant all our parents the highest stages, and the best of both worlds. Let this also serve as a reminder for us to read for them if they have passed on.

3x Surha Ikhlaas for all Marhoom, Insha Allah.

Much Love,

A  🌸

How easy to practice!

Let’s revive this Sunnah Insha Allah.

IG: @thejourneyingmuslimah

#revivetheSunnahof Sleepingearly#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq

#missionsunnahrevival 

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#revivetheSunnahofeating

Twitter @ajourneyjournal