When we Break the Rules

Bismihi Ta’ala

Mohsina

Part 83

Buzz.

What are you guys up to today?

It was a message from Jameela and I couldn’t help but smile, despite my caffeine deprivation, as I thought of how happy she was yesterday. If I could describe it in words, I’d say that she was over the moon, topsy turvy, do-cartwheels-in-the-rain kinda ecstatic.

And me.

Up way too early for my liking. You? 

I typed in a reply quickly, not wanting to go into details of how Hamzah literally dragged me out of bed, forced me to dress in a presentable outdoor dress with a floral sheila, and had all Zaid’s bags already packed with a painfully victorious expression on his face.

“Is that a smile I see?” his smooth voice said as he sneaked a look at me from the drivers seat. “Seems like someone’s cheered up already. Can we head straight to our destination then?”

The service station was still a few minutes away and I couldn’t understand how Hamzah could be so alive at this part of the morning, with so little sleep.

Going out early the day after my sisters wedding was the worst idea he ever had. Sometimes I wondered if he did these things specifically to torture me.

”Please no,” I groaned, adjusting my expression and slipping my sunglasses further up my nose as I put my phone on my lap. “I need coffee. Like, stat.”

He grinned as I turned my face back to my phone, and it buzzed again.

”Well actually, maybe we can,” I said, rethinking and wondering what I could score out of this. “If you think that you can let me in on where we’re actually going…”

”No ways,” he cut off, taking the turn for the service station. “You’re not spoiling this for me with your unadventurous vibes. Today is all about adventure, and that’s a threat.”

”Ohmahgosh,” I sighed hopelessly.

He would be the end of me, the way he was carrying on. I was doomed to die of coffee deprivation in some bundu-bashing destination while wild animals scavenged on my dead body.

Hamzah ignored my sulky face, already popping into the garage while I watched him order my fave coffee drink through the glass, the PSL, not because I particularly liked it but because it was also trending, and it reminded me of why I loved this man to the point of wanting to suffocate him.

But of course, I didn’t.

I opted for a tiny smile instead while he handed me the disposable coffee cup and watched me sip my coffee almost like my life depended on it.

Buzz.

Two unread messages.

I’m staring at my husband while he sleeps like an angel. I love being obsessed.

Barf.

You guys going far? 

You’d think that her teenage hormones would calm the hell down once she was married, but reality had proven that Jameela was beyond saving.

It was literally nauseating to have to read all her messages this early, but I didn’t want to be a grump and tell her to zip it so I could keep lasts night’s food within the parameters of my stomach.

I glanced at Hamzah, who gave me a sideways smile as he glimpsed Jameela’s name on my phone, and I typed again.

My tummy was feeling in some weird kind of knots and I assumed it was because I hadn’t really eaten a thing from the morning.

I hope not because I’m hangry asl and wondering what on earth my husband is up to. We may be out of range, so if you can’t contact me, don’t panic. Okay, maybe panic. If I come back in a body bag, rem you’re my fav sister. Love you (more than Zubair ever will!) *smiley with the hugest teeth*

I might as well cover all my bases here. Before she got any weird ideas of falling head over heels in love, she needed to remember that I came first. Even though I didn’t know what my own future held right then, I was still irreplaceable.

And despite my confusion about said future, I had to give it to my husband. He had me on the edge of my seat, desperately trying to guess his next move. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust him.

I just didn’t trust my traitor heart to stay strong against his attempts.

We drove in silence for a while, with me trying my hardest to guess where Hamza was taking me, and him shutting me down every time I gave him a stupid option. It was a game of back and forth that we were playing, never treading any deeper than the simple, mundane things that we thought were safest to speak of, without breaking any of the unsaid rules.

And knowing Hamzah and his nature obsessions, I’d assumed it would be some spectacular spot which overwhelmed your senses with the beauty of seeing the outdoors au naturel. I kept firing ideas of hiking and camping spots to him, and after a few minutes, I assumed that he was taking me to his childhood home, until he drove right past the off-ramp that went to it.  I racked my brains to figure it out just as he took another one, and finally pulled up in front of a semi-large face brick house.

And then, I was baffled. I had nothing. No guesses to what Hamza had up his sleeve, but my danger radar told me he definitely had something… something big enough that I forced myself to take a moment and steel my heart to bear the emotional onslaught today was sure to bring.

I stepped out of the car when he did, already missing Zaid, and trying to tune out reality.

How would I bear it when we had to split him between us?
I shut the thought down.

Not today, Mos, I told myself. Today was for blissful ignorance concerning the future.

Today was just for now. Today was a break from all the damage control that I’d been losing my mind doing… a break from thinking way too much.

I trailed behind Hamza, whose impassive face gave away zero clues…. until he approached the locked gate and pulled out a set of keys from his kurta pocket. With a heart racing so fast, I feared a mini heart attack. I frantically considered the possibilities in my head.

Did my nutcase, think-with-his-heart husband buy a house in the hopes that it will dissuade me from going through with the divorce?

“Hamzah!” I said sharply, the panicked edge in my voice clearly evident.

He touch his index fingers to my lips.

”Ssshh. Rules. Number 1. No screeching.”

His eyes twinkled mischievously as he said it, and I automatically scowled as he beckoned for me to follow him. I stared ahead at him in his white kurta, taking in his handsome form as he stepped through the doorway, letting my eyes slowly adjust to the lighting in the room beyond where he stood.

Even my wildest imagination couldn’t prepare me for where he’d brought me. I looked around incredulously, taking in the big empty room, the dark blue carpetting, the little wudhu khana in the corner with three sinks and the stacks of plastic desks on the right side corner…

I was thrown. Completely. I raised my eyes hesitantly to his, to see my husband watching me with an intense look on his face, almost as if he were soaking in every part of my reaction.

When he smiled crookedly and spoke, I was already turned to mush.

“Stop number one. Welcome to my Hifdh Madrassah, Mos. Where getting the stick meant that we couldn’t sit for days.”

He grinned and my heart almost burst with how childlike he looked in that moment. I wanted to twist his ear and hug him all at once, and for once in my life I just stood there, all uncertain and confused, wondering what next to do.

My word.

My heart was beating at a million beats per second. Knowing the Qur’ān had played such a beautiful role in bringing us together, and how much it had meant to us, I knew that Hamzah had planned this with that very intention in mind. He hoped for it to bind us together once again. Forgetting anger for that moment, I was just in awe that he was giving me a glimpse of his past, even with everything that was going down between us, he had that much of faith in me to let me into this part of his world.

“This place is creepy without the crescendo of 100 voices mixing over one another,” he mused, moving further into the room, as I imagined the memories he had of this place.

Constant recital. Maulana screaming. Boys fighting. Jokes flying. It must have had its own atmosphere… and I’m sure it still did.

Everything looked neat and tidy, almost as if it was just ready for the students to come in and start their work once again.

I followed behind him cautiously, watching the back of his head, unable to predict in what direction today was headed… Until I found a desk in front of me, and Hamza holding out to me the pocket Qurʾān he normally kept in the car to do his dhor.

I raised my eyebrows questioningly.

”What are we doing?”

”Here?” He asked with a cock of his head, gesturing for me to sit. “Or generally?”

“What are we doing here?”

I didn’t want to talk about what we were doing generally. I had no answers, and I was scared about what his would be.

“Simple,” he murmured, lowering his legs into a sitting position and placing his hands on his lap. “When in a hifdh class, do as the hifdh students do. Test me, Mos?”

The last part of his request came out tentatively as he locked eyes with mine, and I didn’t blame him.

Be still my beating heart. Be still.

And of course it didn’t listen. I’d heard my husband recite before, especially before he would make Zaid sleep, in his strong but soothing voice. I’d basked in it whenever he did, and although he had tested me tons of times before… he had never requested me to test him.

And I wanted to refuse. To say it was against the rules to swindle my heart this way. To say I wasn’t worthy of this honour, because I knew there was no other word for it, but before I knew it, the silent room wasn’t silent anymore, and there I sat, not knowing anything… not knowing what this full, but unnerving feeling in my heart was, not knowing what to make of the contented expression on his face as Hamzah recited… not knowing what the heck I was doing with my life and how I would survive this separation, even though, up until now, in front of him, I had managed to keep up the pretence that it didn’t bother me too much.

His voice carried throughout the room as he read, and  despite my confused heart, it was as though nothing else beside him and I existed in this time and space, where absolute tranquility seemed to surround us.

And before I knew it, tears etched my eyes and overwhelming emotions had consumed me. I was battling with myself to try and stop overthinking and just appreciate this moment, because this moment, right then, would probably be the first and the last time I’d get to test my husband his dhor.

This moment, right then, when it felt like all those barriers were falling away… was everything.

Then, all of a sudden, his intensely deep voice stopped as he got up and edged closer to me and whispered, “Pick up your hands, Mos.”

I hastily wiped my eyes and lifted them in the air, humouring him even though I couldn’t understand his request, not expecting his chuckle that escaped from his mouth, completely at ease, in a way I hadn’t heard in a few weeks… and hadn’t realised that I’d missed.

A smile ghosted his lips as he lay down on the ground next to me and I understood why he was grinning. I had put my hands all the way up as if I was under arrest, and all my husband wanted to do was lay his head down right in my lap.

For a minute, as the back of his head met my thighs, I froze at his proximity, because we had been so distant the past few days that I couldn’t quite digest this sudden surge of affection.

“You know,” he said, ignoring my awkwardness and twisting his head so it got the perfect kind of cushioning on my lap without it feeling uncomfortable. “Its a Sunnah of Nabī ﷺ that he recited Qurʾān while lying on the lap of Ayesha radiAllahu anha… and I kinda get the feeling that there’s no better time to practise a Sunnah that right now…”

Smooth. Very smooth.

And before I got a word in, he was already reciting again, continuing with the verses of Surah Tawbah, and I couldn’t help letting a tear fall on his cheek, even though he pretended as if he didn’t feel it.

His eyes were closed, so he couldn’t meet the turbulent expression in my eyes as I watched him, but I preferred it that way.

I couldn’t quite digest this. This place. The recital. Him, Hafidh and the man that I’d come to love with so much of my heart, on my lap, in his childhood Hifdh class, his melodious recitation.. my heart felt like it would explode from an intolerable level of emotion.

I wiped the tears away with one hand, running the other through his hair in a way I could tell he lived for by the content expression on his face, and the way his head sought more comfort at my touch. And even as his reciting stopped, thats how we sat, time unknown to us, the serene atmosphere too sacred to disturb and even check how many minutes had passed during our time together, until that little reminder that nothing good should last popped up in my brain again.

I couldn’t. This was all too much. Too close. Too personal. It was getting deeper than I ever thought, breaking all my rules, and I felt as if my heart was deeper in than I knew, as I instinctively pulled my hand away.

“Don’t stop,” he said as he reached up to catch my hand and guide it back into his hair.

His eyes bored into mine as if they wanted to say words he couldn’t voice. I felt like I was watching a TikTok ‘tell me you love me without telling me you love me’ reel. There was no other way to describe his infectious way of spreading his feelings.

”First explain,” I mumbled, as coherently as I could, holding my hand still, like leverage in his hair, as I spoke. “Tell me why here. Else I’ll stop.”

Hamzah shot me a withering look in response before slowly starting to speak.

“I think you agreed that you owe me one,” he said, almost with an entitled look on his face as he wiggled his head on my palm coaxingly. “Your words, my love.”

”I smell BS,” I snorted, ignoring his sweetness as he shot me a disdainful look at my use of abbreviation within the sacred walls. “Tell me.”

He sighed, and I automatically moved my fingers ever so slightly as he spoke again. Despite my brain being traitorous, I actually didn’t want him to actually stop laying there.

“This is what brought us together,” he said softly, his arms spread open now as his one twinkly eye opened and looked at me. “It’s not easy coming back here, especially with memories of Liyaket flooding through my brain. It’s been hard these past few weeks, and without him, I felt it even more when I needed someone to talk to. Any problem I had in the past, he always had a solution. I knew that I had Imraan and Zubair trying to help out, but it kept coming back to him and this place and a few days ago, I couldn’t handle the pressure anymore, and I suddenly remembered him telling me how often he would ask Maulana for advice, even after we finished our Hifdh.”

He fell silent then, as if contemplating his next words, and I waited.

”You went to him?” I asked softly, when he didn’t speak again.

His eyes were closed beneath my gentle motions in his hair as he nodded, and I wondered if he’d actually fallen asleep until I noticed the edges of his eyes crinkle slightly, and the slight tilt of his lips.

“I did,” Hamza continued, his eyes still closed. “And it was the predictable ‘Hafezsaab, chalo, let’s drink tea’ regime. And all I could think was, how do these people think that tea can solve everything?”

I grinned as he opened his one eye and looked at me again, and it felt like all these layers of awkwardness between us were slowly lifting away, and I wasn’t even sure if it was a bad thing or not.

“And he told you to bring me here so you could knock me off my feet with your gorgeous recitation,” I said bluntly, with a slight roll of my eyes.

“No, gorgeous. We drank the tea silently,” he said, but his grin widening at the unintentional compliment. “Maulana is not much of a talker, and… to tell the truth, I still feel scared to ask too many questions. Sometimes, I still feel like I’m ten and I don’t know my sabaq.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that.

“It wasn’t until afterwards, when I leaving the house, that he advised me.. just one line of advice. He said, ‘Hafidh Hamzah, if you want your Duniyaa to be made, recite Qurʾān sincerely. And if you want your Aakhirah to be made, recite the Qur’ān sincerely.’ And it made me think… Here we are running behind lawyers and divorce proceedings, pinning our hopes on all these other things… even Zubair, and then this reminder comes, hitting straight where it’s needed…”

He trailed off and we both just sat there, lost in thought for a while.

“And that’s when I knew I wanted to bring you here. I knew that Madrassah would be closed now. He always closes for a holiday at the end of Rajab… and then makes the boys suffer for it by having classes Sunday to Sunday for the entirety of Sha’bān.”

I gaped at him. “Serious?!”

It explained a recitation where every second word wasn’t a mistake. No wonder his work was so solid. Man, that must have been tough.

Weak student here, sure… but classes Sunday to Sunday. Yoh. Us mere mortals don’t have the strength to bear that.

“Poor Maulana,” I mused, trying to decipher why he did that. “You boys must have made him really angry when you’ll came back those days after, not knowing your work.”

He chuckled so hard at that, that he had to sit up to catch his breath, and I wondered what on earth was so funny.

”No matter how well we knew our work, he would still end up breaking us all after every holiday,” he finally said, a smile still visible on his face. “It was like routine for him. Once or twice at the end of those heavy days, looking at the expressions on the boys faces, I actually caught him grinning. Poor Maulana indeed.“

It was my turn to grin as I imagined it, and then he put his Qurʾān back into his Kurta top pocket and held out a hand.

“Come,” he said, standing up as he gestured his head toward another door. ”There’s still more I want to show you.”

I would have assumed there’s little to see in a boys hifdh Madrassah, but as Hamzah led me around, his face lit up with a nostalgic grin, for the nth time that day, I was surprised. The sports area, the Tawbah corner – which a laughing Hamza assured me that him and Liyaket had spent his fair amount of time in, the kitchen- essentially just a corner with a microwave and a kettle- until we came to a closed door, and Hamzah whispered dramatically.

“Brace yourself. I left the best for last.”

He pushed the door open, and I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t to be assaulted with the smell of.. what was that smell even?

“Can you smell that?” I asked Hamza, sniffing around like a freak. “Theres a distinct weird smell here…”

He sniffed the air and shook his head, assuring me there was no smell here, but I was sure that I saw a glint of something mischievous in his eye.

Then it clicked for me and I turned to face to him, with my hands on my hips.

Euw.

”Toes!” I frowned accusingly, blocking my nose. “This place stinks of toes.”

”Ah,” he said, raising his eyebrows, and moving a chair out the way. “Is that what it is? I always thought it was the salt and vinegar chips.”

”That’s disgusting,” I scoffed, literally feeling my stomach revolt in protest to his description. I couldn’t even. He had officially spoilt salt and vinegar flavour for me for life.

I actually had no appetite at all, despite believing earlier on that I was fiercely hangry.

“I don’t know,” he said, scratching his head. “The boys used to live on salt and vinegar pringles so we could seal it up for the next night. We didn’t have the fancy flavours back then. I didn’t think it could possibly be toes…”

“Yugh. How can you ever confuse the two? You’re more sick than I thought.”

And then we were arguing on whether the place was truly smelly – it honestly reeked – or if my nose was broken (the fudge?) and way too sensitive for scents other than Issey Miyaki (Hamzah was full of compliments). We went back and forth endlessly, until I saw that mischievous glint in his eyes again, and this time it looked almost smug.

And I hated that I knew him well enough to understand why. It had been a while since we did this. I’d pulled back this past month, doing my wifely duties perfectly, but for the most part, disengaging as much as I could.

In the past, we had bickered about mundane things all the time, but not this month. This month it was limited to serious discussions and arguments. I had carefully avoided any level of personal playfulness, even if it was just over something mundane.

He had missed this, I realised, swallowing hard when I thought of how carefree and childish my husband seemed today. He had missed us. For his sake.. to keep him smiling, to save him from going down with me, I had to steel my heart and stop feeding him false hopes.

I took a step back, literally and emotionally, and casually shrugged.

“It’s irrelevant. Just show me whatever it is that so good in here.”

His expression changed too as he flicked a light switch, trying to be nonchalant, and I instantly turned my face to the couches and bean bags now in my midst.

“This is the break room,” he said quietly, not meeting my eye. “No one actually uses it, until it’s raining and we can’t go out. But, what I wanted to show you, well… look there.”

My gaze followed his pointed index finger, to the wall on the far corner, which seemed to be a giant collage of sorts.

As if sensing my confusion, Hamzah continued, “Maulana calls this the Hafidh wall.. every student gets to put up a tribute on the day of the completion. Something to put down as an official achievement.”

I was awed, but I kept silent. There had to be hundreds of laminated squares stuck to the wall. Imagine, just imagine having that many people who you connected to the Qurʾān.. who you walked through the stages of memorisation from day one, till the day they recited اللهم آنس وحشتي in front of a large crowd…

“Lets see if you can find mine,” he challenged with a wink, lightening the mood instantly. “In fact, let’s see how fast you can find it.”

It took me over 15 minutes before I did. And just as I did, my eyes settled on the quote right next to his, and I couldn’t simply look away.

The books of history contain some of his quotes which are worth their weight in gold. And amongst those quotes, I was pretty sure that this one was one of those amazing ones that made your heart shudder at its mere sight.

“It does not behove one who has the Qur’ān in his heart to go to the wealthy and affluent in order for them to fulfil his needs. Instead, his position is such that the entire creation should come to him to fulfil their needs”.

I stood rooted there for a while, just staring at those words, as if something very obvious had intervened to make me see this.

If I didn’t know better, I’d have said Hamzah set this up so I’d see this message. But there was no way that was true, because from this wall full of tributes to the pious scholars of Qurʾān, I had approached this one. I had somehow come to read this one, out of the hundreds.. and subconsciously, I couldn’t help but wonder, did I come to this one, or was I brought to this one?

I jerked backwards as warm hands settled on my shoulders, Hamzah’s voice asking if I was okay.

But I couldn’t say a thing, because I wasn’t.

I couldn’t even process all this anymore. It was getting way too emotional, and I could feel all those walls coming up again, as I took a step away from him. His eyes stayed on mine as he spoke, unaware of the feelings brewing within me.

“It was only after Maulana told me to come here that I remembered his advice to us at our jalsa,” he said softly, stepping forward to stand within my view again, his jaw rigid as he recalled the words. “The Qur’ān will always guide the Hafidh back… be the light through the darkness… the guiding beacon… even when it feels as if there is no end to the tunnel. He would always say that the journey of Hifdh never ends, and I tried my best to make it go on for me. Though I had gone off track once, I made sure that the Qur’ān was part of my life, my go-to, and my answer whenever I didn’t know where the solutions lay…”

I knew that he did. Qur’ān was so much a part of Hamzah’s life that he never left the house without one. His attachment was so intense that I envied it.

“And that’s how I know that whatever happens from here, whichever path we take, I just have a feeling that things are going to come together,” he said, his eyes meeting mine.

”I’ll never give up hope, Mohsina. A believer always has hope, and that’s what I’ll cling onto forever.”

My heart literally split at the seams as he said it, and I couldn’t quite help myself as I turned away, knowing that it was time to leave, not leaving Hamzah an option of much else to say.

He followed me silently as we walked out, heart on my sleeve as I let him guide me with a hand on the lower part of my back, not able to comprehend what this all meant.

I couldn’t believe how much he had sacrificed in his journey here, and how much of a sacrifice he had undergone again as he grew and changed his life, and decided to do the right thing for Zaid. We had both made sacrifices, but right now, it felt like he was shining way more than I ever would. To deal with me was an amazing amount of patience and my heart literally ached as I saw the look on his face at times… a look that I couldn’t get off my mind, as I watched him right then, emotions overwhelming me as he guided me out the building.

And as he did it, it felt like I was coming together, and piecing myself back together, even against my better instincts. I felt like the once wounded heart I had sheltered so deeply had bled out way too much for my body to handle. Now, it was as if healing was in place and things were slowly being revived… as if parts of me had come back from the dead… and all I knew right then was how much it felt like an overload on the most vulnerable part of my conscience.

I felt like every rule had been broken, and here we were, back at square one, trying to figure out what the next step was going to really be.

I wanted to challenge him, to ask him why he’d done this. Why we had gone in reverse, when we needed to get into gear and drive away. I wanted to know what this all meant… how he expected today to turn out, once it was all over.

I wanted to know what was Plan B. What did he do when all this didn’t work out the way he planned, or when it did, and he ended up hating me because he lost everything because of me?

It just wasn’t fair. Today was beautiful and touching and oh-so-nostalgic, but what next?

Did he want me to cave and say that I couldn’t picture my life without him? Did he expect me to throw him to the wolves just so that I could have him the way he was?

I breathed out as we stepped out into the fresh air, thinking I’d feel an ounce of relief as we were out of the madrassa, but being away from it made me realise that it wasn’t the place that made me feel this way.

If anything, this amazing  institution had brought me more peace than I’d had in months.

The sinking feeling in my stomach had nothing to do with it. It was me. All me. I was the villain here and I didn’t know how to tell him this. All I knew was that I needed answers.

What did he want from me? Did he want me to admit that this was breaking me? What exactly was I supposed to do from here, in his mind?

“Why?”

I didn’t even realise I’d said it as I stood still in front of his car, my heart beating rapidly as he slowly walked around me, his hair browner now in the sunlight as he stood in front of me.

“Why what?” He asked, his expression as calm as the blue skies, as I glared at him fiercely. I was a storm, that threatened to unsettle every part of his sanity. “Why am I breaking the rules? What are the rules even, Mohsina? That we can’t talk about us ever having a future again?”

“You know the rules!” I accused him, pointing my finger at his chest threateningly, as he stepped closer instead of inching away. “You know what we need to do, how we can’t be certain if anything, but you still doing this to me. Why are you doing this to me? Why, Hamzah? Why?!”

My voice had rose to an embarrassingly high pitch as I watched him stand even taller, not even retreating slightly at my accosting tone.

I wanted to return. Again and again and again. Until we meet Him. Together.

But my body was lit with rage and uncertainty and his stance was as hard as the expression in his eyes. I didn’t even know what I was fighting against.. who I was fighting for.

I just knew that the one who gives up this fight, fails. Only the one who—due to complacency or despair—gives up the fight of constantly bringing the heart back to focus, fails in this life and the next.

But I didn’t want to hear him say it.

“For one thing,” he said simply, his eyes boring into mine as he swiped his tongue over his teeth, the only single gesture that gave away his unease at the entire situation. “I wanted you to know all this because whatever happens, i will always ask Allah for this, and I want you to promise me one thing.”

I looked at him with my eyes narrowed, flashing and holding back the tears, not knowing if I should even do this, but with everything my heart had just undergone, I couldn’t possible do anything else but nod in silent agreement, not knowing what I was promising him as I did.

Not knowing that there were no rules, in this dangerous game we were playing.

“I want you to come back to me.”

---

Just a quick one to say that this post is dedicated to a flower in the Gardens of the Righteous, who helped me to pen most of this post. I deeply appreciate the Naseehah and the extra love of Qur’ān that shone through, which she was solely responsible for inspiring. Please do give feedback on how much it was enjoyed ❤️

May Allah Ta’ala grant her much love, happiness and barakah for her future.

Much Love,

A x

Mission Sunnah Revival: Thinking well of others 

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

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

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

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

Sunnah of the month of Rajab 

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

اَللّٰهُمَّ  بَارِكْ لَناَ فِيْ رَجَبٍ وَشَعْبانَ وَبَلّغْنَا رَمَضَانْ

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

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

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

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

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When we Buy some Time

Bismihi Ta’ala

Hamzah

Part 76

Time.

“Your life comprises a few breaths that can be counted; when one of them is sent out, a part of your life has diminished.”

Once lost, it’s never found.

You never quite realise the value with it until you’re at war with it. Until it feels like you’ve lost your mind, and you’re running out of it.

Deadlines, cut-off times and final dates. It was all a matter of time, before the chances would be up. And it’s no wonder that Allah Ta’ala takes an oath by it, to declare its importance.

In Surah Asr, it’s started that the only way to escape loss is to take every moment of his life as valuable, and use it for the four acts mentioned in the Surah.

Imam Shafi’I (RA) says that if people thought about Surah Al-’Asr carefully, it would be enough for their guidance. It’s a concise but comprehensive Surah, which outlines a complete way of human life based on the Islamic perspective.

Not only that, it drives the fact that each moment goes by, every second, minute, hour or day of the passage of time is nothing but a sword that is slashing away at your life of this world, reminding me that my time was running out.

Reminding you that every thing you do in that time is going to determine what’s going to occur after time is up.

Fresh starts, thanks to the calendar- they happen every year. A reminder that theres a new beginning. A new chance to start.

Sometimes it’s just a simple nudge to put your past behind you and start over.

At that time of my life, when the year had begun, my heart was at war with itself. It felt too deeply. Hurt too much. And I couldn’t understand why I was going through this.

While my brother secretly celebrated the news of Saaliha’s pregnancy, which made me so happy for him, with the beginning of the new year for Mos and I, was a new feeling that felt like a cloud waiting to open its doors and let loose on us.

I sat gravely on the kitchen nook, glancing at the block whilst waiting for my wife to enter the kitchen again, my Qur’ān recital the only thing that could calm the storm that was brewing within me.

It was just what I needed to heal my own heart, and to right everything that had gone wrong.

It was just what I needed to remind of the war I was fighting for the greater good… to keep everything afloat.

“How was it?”

I closed my Qur’ān softly just after concluding the recital, glancing up at my wife as she walked from the room, wearing a light coloured modest dress as she repositioned Zaid’s feeding chair.

She had rushed to the room when she had gotten home from her day, and it was only after a few minutes when hearing  the droning of the breast pump, did I realise that it was the first time she had been away from Zaid for so long.

I couldn’t help but marvel at what an amazing mother she had become. It was the first time that she had left him since her resignation and though I really felt that I should have gone with her, Mohsina’s reason for keeping me out of it of made some sense.

Though I tried to fight her on it, I knew if I persisted it would just make her fight me more, and I didn’t need more of that. Already, her fingers were bare as she busied herself with Zaid, and I couldn’t help but feel gutted about it.

”You’re still here,” she said to me unhappily with Zaid perched contentedly  on her hip.

It wasn’t a question. It was a warning and a reprimand for me, but I ignored it.

And I wanted to kick myself because I hated that I agreed to her request of me leaving today. I hated the entire idea but with every passing day, Mohsina was pushing me further away, trying to keep me as far away from her as possible.

”I was waiting for you.”

I wasn’t afraid to say it. Maybe I was making this harder than it should have been. But maybe I was a little upset because of everything that had happened.

It wasn’t that I blamed Mohsina for the situation. I was just upset at how she was dealing with it.

Taking off work with the excuse of seeing to my wife’s law suit would raise bigger questions and we had bigger fish to fry right then. Instead we got Zaid a nanny and left them with Liyaket’s mother for a few hours, and since her day had taken longer than anticipated, I had fetched him on my way back from work.

Now it was time for me to leave, but I was only hoping that Mohsina would somehow have some good news or a change of heart, and things would go back to normal.

Somehow we could just pretend that the past two weeks never happened and things could go back to how we always knew it.

Every minute, every moment spent without my family as a single unit felt like some sort of torture.

I watched Mohsina shoot me a frown before tugging at her scarf before she walked across the room, barely looking at me.

I watched her as I wondered what had happened. Did she manage to get them to settle? Did she manage to get her name off the nasty payments? Did any other evidence come up about the documents she signed?

I wanted to know everything but she was determined to tell me nothing. The unsaid war was mounting between us, and while I was hoping to hold onto our marriage as long as I could, Mohsina was already giving up, saying she didn’t want to make it harder for us by being around each other much longer.

I got her point, but damn… why was it still so hard?

“I missed you so much, baby boy,” Mohsina cooed softly, ignoring me while she settled Zaid into his chair with affection as he grabbed fistfuls of her tied up hair, and blabbered away.

He was so cute when he was like this, and I wanted to so badly pretend that everything was normal.

He lived for her. Sometimes I felt like Zaid was betraying me by being so attached to her, but I knew that this was how babies were. I sought refuge in the fact that once he got older, we would be best buds like his father and I.

My stagnant expression gave nothing away as I watched them both. There was a silent battle going on between the two of us, and one of us was going to back down.

I was refusing to let it be me.

Time was slipping away and I was aware that I had none left, but I was still holding on. Buying as much as I could while I scrounged around for some hope.

“Did you manage to make a settlement?”

It was my second question directed at her as I stood up, and I could see her flinching as I asked it. After all, it would solve everything. If the case would go away, none of this would have to change. We wouldn’t have to change.

“Can we not talk about this?” She mumbled, not looking at me. “I want to finish feeding Zaid. I haven’t see him the whole day. Can you just…”

She stopped awkwardly in mid sentence but I knew what she wanted to say, and my heart contracted painfully.

Leave.

She wanted me to leave.

What about me? I wanted to ask. You haven’t seen me the whole day either.

And I knew that she was doing this to make it easier, but it felt a thousand times harder. She wanted me to cut off all ties with her, so it wouldn’t affect me. What she didn’t know was that what she was doing was hurting me more than anything else.

And it was just as well that I didn’t go with Mohsina that day because besides wanting to punch Faadil in the face, I had a feeling that the entire thing wouldn’t have gone very well if I did.

And I wasn’t the type to hold a grudge but the guy had been a bad boss. A bad employee. A bad whatever-he-was-to-Mohsina.

I wasn’t an insecure guy, but the odds were against him. There was no chance I could ever warm up to him now.

Still, all that didn’t matter that much. What mattered was that he proved to be a Muslim who led his life as if he wasn’t even Muslim. He did horrible things. He stole money and got up to shady side deals in clubs, took random women as toys, and all this was playing on my mind the entire day while I thought of Mohsina going back and facing this guy once again.

I had plunged myself into audits that day, while Mohsina left to meet lawyers, keeping my mind off what the worst case scenario here could be, making much Duaa and trying to surrender to the concept of Taqdeer.

Trying to have full faith that Allah will still see this all through, and come out with the best solution for us all.

And in doing so, I had hope. Hope that she would tell me it’s all sorted, and I didn’t have to worry. Hope that this would all blow over, without any consequences. Hope that it would all just disappear.

And here she was, despite my own hopes, offering me no assurance that this was going to be okay.

That’s all I wanted for now, and she was giving me nothing to work with with.

“Mos,” I  said, grabbing my keys and moving now to stand right in front her, making her look at me while she tried to feed Zaid some mashed up looking carrots.

I wanted to reach out to her. To yank her pony. To pull her close. To make her laugh. To take her hand and assure her that it would be okay.

But I didn’t dare. This was far too gone.

“Did you sign the papers yet?”

Her tone was rigid as she said it and I sighed, turning away, already feeling deflated.

She didn’t say the word but I knew that it meant that we will still there.

The annulment of marriage contract.

It sounded so formal and morbid. She was now at this ugly point when she had decided to do the most disliked thing in the sight of Allah.

“I won’t.”

It was my standard reply and I treated it like a challenge. A challenge that entailed me doing everything I could to never sign those papers.

“It’s the only way,” she said softly, trying to appeal to me with the softness that sometimes cut through her steely personality.

“It’s not,” I insisted, my stance unyielding as I held her gaze.

“It is because their lawyers won’t budge,” she said, breaking eye contact and looking at Zaid as she spoke. “Faadil has no way of taking my name off the records completely. My name is already there and I’m guilty until proven innocent and I won’t let you take the fall for it too, Hamzah.”

She turned to me then and her eyes flared as she said it. I scowled at her.

“So you can take the fall for him but I can’t take the fall for you?”

She sighed.

”Hamzah.”

She said it as if she was talking to a kid.

I narrowed my eyes at her. That’s exactly how it was.

“Mohsina,” I said to her, in the exact same tone she had used with me.

Now was her turn to narrow her eyes.

We never fought.

We bickered and bantered with ease, on most occasions, but a full blown out fight wasn’t our thing. It felt precariously close to that situation.

“You know it’s not like that,” she said, her voice pleading and her eyes glistening. “I signed documents to say I took the money from him. He can’t just undo it.”

“You mean he doesn’t want to,” I said stiffly, knowing exactly how Bossman worked, and not prepared to fight her on this anymore.

She was so gullible, and the way she bought his stupid excuses, was exactly like Mohsina. While she appeared tough and impenetrable on the surface, I knew that my wife would never let anyone take a fall if she could help it. Even if they deserved it.

Mohsina was selfless to the point of exhaustion and whilst I loved what she had done for her family, I hated that it was what was making her want to resort to something that would break us both. It just didn’t make sense to me to let this ruin us.

All the fight had been fought already. I had no more left in me at this point.

Mohsina was silent as I watched her back, not even know whether I should wait for her response. I just knew that I couldn’t leave at that point. She said nothing and the more the silence persisted, the more restless I felt, and the more I couldn’t step out the door.

Zaid was painfully oblivious to the tension between us, all I could think about was how much this would affect him. How much I would miss him tonight, while I wasn’t with him. How our little family would be torn apart.

He had settled so well during the past month, and to have to upset his routine again was going to be the worst mistake. I wasn’t even sure how Mohsina was going to do it, but she was insistent that we could work out a proper agreement between us, so we could both alternate in keeping him, and he would barely feel it.

I begged to differ.

My entire family was going to be broken and Mohsina was taking it standing up.

“Why are you fighting this?” She finally asked, pulling Zaid out of the feeding chair and meeting me eye.  “I gave you the time you asked for and you said you would leave after. I’m not worth the hassle this would bring.”

Her last words struck my heart. She was worth it. She was worth every moment. But she hadn’t even given me enough time to show her that.

Three days. She had given me three days to pull something out to save us before she gave up completely. Was it worth that little to her? Was all this just an experiment?

Anger rose within me but I bit it back, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. If she wasn’t going to fight for us, someone had to, but we couldn’t be going crazy whilst doing it.

“I want more time,” I said flatly, knowing that I was going against what I had said but planning on pushing Zubair even more to come up with something that can turn the situation around. I was going to call him as soon as I left for Masjid. I was going to have to get something to salvage this. “Please.”

She looked slightly taken aback by my request. By the fact that I was literally begging her.

And why wouldn’t she? None of us ever thought that we would come to this point.

“Give me a reason,” she answered softly, looking up at me from the corner of her eye and taking me by surprise. “One good reason.”

I had gotten her to this point, and it was just enough for me to give this my all. My wife’s eyes were hopeful as she waited, and I couldn’t help but notice how painfully gorgeous she looked as her eyes lit up with something that resembled hope.

Hope. It was the only thing keeping me going. If it even existed here.

“Because you are worth it,” I said stubbornly, the words slipping out it my mouth before I could even think. “Because I don’t care about the money. About status. About my accreditation. Because despite everything I may lose, I’m still hoping for a happy ending here. Because I don’t care about everything that I may lose and even if I do, if I lose you, I will have nothing. Because you are everything, Mohsina. You and Zaid are everything to me. That’s why.”

She was stunned into silence as I spoke, her eyes wide as my voice rose a tad bit louder than intended.

Maybe I was getting a little carried away, but emotions were powerful stuff. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to feel that way, but I knew that Allah had brought us together for a reason and that before this curve ball, everything that this had brought, from leaving our old lifestyles to Zaid and our amazing family, was an immense blessing.

And I didn’t need another reason. That’s was the only reason why I was stalling and buying more time, hanging into threads of hope that could unite us once again, hoping that some miracle would happen that would that would bring her back to me, even if it was just for a teeny weeny snippet in time.

It was an intense moment as we stared at each other, almost in some sort of weird challenge, whilst Zaid mumbled something incoherent, oblivious to our emotions as our eyes spoke words none of us dared to say.

I love you, mine’s said with no reservation.

What if that’s not enough? Her’s question back.

The ringing of my phone in my pocket startled us but I ignored it, because I didn’t want Mohsina to push me out while I wasn’t ready to leave. At this point, it felt like everything was on the line and there was no way I was leaving today. I needed that time to prove that this wasn’t just a silly mistake that we had made. I needed to show that real love may just be what we actually had here.

And yes, I had let my guard down. There was a reason why I told Liyaket that I didn’t believe in love. Why I always wanted to be happy alone.

I thought that if I gave something my all, and it fell apart, I would never make it off the ground after. I didn’t want to shape my life around something, and then lose it. How do you survive the pain that feels like losing an organ? What if I actually learnt that I needed love, and I couldn’t have it?

But that’s why Allah gives us a solution, in everything we do. That’s why when we hand our hearts over, we still keep our focus solely on Him. Despite loving someone so deeply, you still love Allah above them, because He is your only anchor. Allah teaches us, over and over again, that beyond everything else, the only thing that still remains is His Loyalty.

Whoever loves for the sake of Allah and hates for the sake of Allah and gives for the sake of Allah and denies for the sake of Allah has completed his faith (Abu Dawud, Tirmidhi).

Everything was only for Him, through Him and because of Him. There is no loyalty but with Him.

And it was because of that that here I was, hanging on by a thread in choppy waters, knowing that at any second, even that thread could snap.

And it was at the most inappropriate moments that technology intervened, and Mohsina’s phone ringing interrupted my thoughts while I couldn’t help but glare at it like it was the bane of my life.

She too was snapped out of her own thoughts, and she looked at me apologetically and sighed, glancing at the phone as on the countertop.

”It’s Nani,” she said apprehensively, glancing at me and wiping her hands again as if to ask my permission to take it.

I immediately softened, glad it wasn’t anything to do with work. That might have been the final straw for me.

“Take it.”

My words still hung in the air as she picked up the phone, and I shifted my own attention to Zaid as I watched him attempt to toss some shell-shaped pasta off the feeding table. Throwing food discreetly off the feeding chair was one of his favourite hobbies.

Even though he was so mischievous, he was so cute at moments like those that it made me wonder what he was going to be like as he got older. I could only imagine how much naughtier he would get as the years went by, and the thought actually made me smile.

I grabbed what I could from his tightly fisted hands while Mohsina spoke, wiping his face and taking him to wash up while I listened to my wife try and speak normally.

Her cheeks were flushed, like they usually were when she was a little flustered, and it was obvious that she was still a bit overwhelmed from our conversation, and it made me hopeful that I had actually penetrated something. She had been  so rigid and unyielding these past few days. Nothing I could say would make her budge.

All I needed was time, to set this right. It would give me an opportunity to get something solid on Faadil. As much as I knew about his dodgy activities, I knew that I would only get what I needed if I gave Zubair more time and resources to find evidence to turn this whole thing around.

“No, I didn’t hear, Nani,” I could hear Mohsina saying, her voice steadying as she spoke again. “What happened?”

There was silence from my wife but I could hear Nani’s voice from where I was on the other side of the room. I couldn’t help but smirk as I did.

“Oh no,” Mohsina said softly. “I don’t think she thought about that.”

There was more animated talking again from the other end of the line, while I checked my own phone to see who had called, swallowing slightly nervously as I saw the name.

Zubair’s number was listed and I made a mental note to call him as soon as I got a moment. Perhaps it was something important. In fact, I was really hoping that it was.

Mohsina’s voice cut through my thoughts as she spoke again.

“Yes, it’s very soon but Nani-“

She was cut off by another audible burst of emotion and I actually stifled a smile as I turned to watch her while Zaid pulled at my beard with his clammy hands.

”Nani, I’m not sure if we can-“ she tried again, but I knew from past experience that there was probably no use even trying to talk her way out of whatever Nani wanted.

“Okay, I’ll ask Hamzah,” she said finally, and I could see her roll her eyes in frustration.

She was tired. And I was so glad for the diversion.

Something had shifted within her. With Nani, sometimes Mohsina seemed like an entirely different person.

Whatever Nani had said obviously wasn’t in her plan but it had somehow got me hopeful.

She said a few more words before finally greeting Nani, cutting the call and then looking at me worriedly.

I looked back at her, frowning slightly as I watched her fiddle with Zaid’s messed bib, and then wipe the table a third time, despite it being clean enough.

And it was weird that I was still sticking around, watching her like a creep when I was supposed to be gone, but her actions were making me wonder what was going on.

She was doing the same thing as I was. Stalling. Buying time, to make this less painful. Procrastinating reality, despite knowing where we were heading. Why though, the sudden change in approach… I had no idea.

It took a few minutes before she finally looked up at me, and gave me the reason for her temporary silence.

”I think you may have to just stick around a while longer,” she said stiffly, and I could feel my heart rate already increase as she said it.

Now that was good news.

I raised an eyebrow at her, not trusting myself to speak as yet. I was still partly in shock.

“I think you may know something about it,” she said, now looking at me questioningly. “Zubair wanting to meet Jameela?”

Ah. Puzzle pieces clicked into place as I recalled the conversation I had had with him after Mohsina told me about how upset Jameela was. It was a simple conversation, guy to guy, where I basically told him that there was no need for him to punish himself his entire life, because of his past. that Allah doesn’t hold our deeds against us, so why should he?

I had convinced him about the beauty of Nikah. Of how a woman may bring out a better part of him (he had actually laughed, when I wasn’t sure if the guy could even smile properly). I had convinced him that he didn’t need to be alone for the rest of his life, just because he felt like he deserved some sort of punishment.

This was before everything between Mohsina and I had spiralled downward.

I didn’t know that he had actually taken the conversation to heart. It meant that Zubair had actually changed his mind about what he wanted in life, and I may have been the reason for it.

How ironic. On the brink of my marriage collapsing, he was making one for himself.

”Nani wants to talk to us altogether,” she said stiffly, wiping her wet hands on a dish cloth. “And we will have to be there together on Sunday too so I guess…”

I breathed out as she trailed off, feeling an immense surge of relief and gratitude as she said it.

Allah Ta’ala had somehow managed swayed the plan for me, and I knew that this was no coincidence.

It wasn’t what I expected but it was more than I deserved.

It was just what I needed to buy more time, and turn this entire thing around.

Whether it would actually work, was another question entirely…

---

Mission Sunnah Revival

Sunnah of Thinking Good about others  

We’re so quick to assume bad things about people, even when we have no idea what’s the real story. Thinking the best about others is part of the Sunnah of Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) and is a great way to give us a positive outlook and always be good to others.

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

When things get a little Intense

Bismihi Ta’ala

Jameela

Part 75

We’ve all had intense moments. Moments of extreme emotion. Moments that came with so much weakness, human frailty, and pain. Moments that may have become filled with exhilaration and exhaustion, and sometimes, maybe even extreme ecstasy.

Every moment is different. Fleeting. A quiet morning walk after the rain. A heartbreak in the midst of a storm. A damp wind that smells like home. A fleeting burst of emotion.

Even when the odds are against us, when our back is against the wall…

We remind ourselves to hold onto hope. Tawakkul.

This moment will never last. Every moment, will slip away.

And that moment too, had slipped, but my mind was still replaying it, the way I remembered my entire world being rocked with the revelation that Mohsina had broken to me just a day before.

It had taken me a day to finally approach Maahira and ask her all the questions I wanted to. I just couldn’t face Mohsina as yet. I didn’t have the words to say what I really wanted to.

Not until I knew exactly how I was going to help her.
How I could or what I would do… I had no idea. I just knew that I had to do something.

“I can’t believe that she was going to marry him.”

It was the first thing that I had said to Maahira when she picked up the call.

I was sitting cross-legged on my bed, overlooking the endless view of the farm greenery, taking a little comfort in the beauty of the horizon on that clear summers day, still feeling the same way I had felt the day before- like I had lost a limb.

The background noise faded as I imagined her walking away from the area where she was.

It was after five in London but I knew better than to assume that Maahira worked a nine to five. She hadn’t gotten where she was because she pulled the basics. Both Mos and Maahi had pushed and stretched themselves so thin that I sometimes wondered how they even had energy for their demanding social lives.

“How did you find out?”

Her tone was flat. Tired and weary.

”She did,” I said simply, not even bothered to sound apologetic about getting straight into the ugly business. “Yesterday when she told me everything else. About the fraud case. And about her plan to off her marriage, which is why I’m calling you. First, tell me: Did she really know that he was involved in fraud?”

It had been on my mind the entire night. I couldn’t stop thinking about everything Mohsina had told me. The divorce. Faadil. About how she knew he was up to something.

About how this would ruin her and kick up old dust. It looked like it already did.

“She just thought that he was cheating,” Maahira said softly, and I heard her exhausted sigh after. “I told her that she needed to keep an eye on him. She insisted it was business, and they had an ‘arrangement’. She didn’t seem to believe it when she’d heard the rumours that he was up to something else too. He’d done a lot for her. Supported her emotionally too. She had been desperate for cash at the time and had a lot on her mind, other than his womanising tricks.”

I raised my eyebrows, looking at myself in the dresser mirror, as I backed up against my wooden headboard. I had pulled my hair up into a bun but a few stray strands blew around as the breeze sashayed in through the hallway window. I couldn’t help but flinch at Maahira’s words.

He had been there for her when none of us were in the picture. We had bailed on her, and Mohsina felt alone.

It wasn’t our fault, I reminded myself. She had pushed us away.

“And she didn’t care?” I pressed, my eyes narrowing at myself as I leaned back. ”Like… cheating was okay for her?”

Cheating. Faadil was cheating on her and she didn’t even bat an eyelid.

I closed my eyes and shook my head, shocked at what Maahira had just revealed. What kind of sick relationship was she even setting herself up for?

And all for money. For the promise of a good life.

It comes in the Hadith that this world would dupe us so much that we would do anything for it. We would become fools, reduced to something so low, in its pursuit.

It fools us into believing that if we barter everything for this Duniyaa, we will get contentment. The truth is that only Allah… only the knowledge of Deen and the actions that bring us closer to Allah can bring that.

One of the most beautiful traditions of the Prophet (Sallahu Alaihi wa Sallam) captures this concept perfectly. He said: “Whoever makes the Hereafter his preoccupation, then Allah places freedom from want in his heart, gathers his affairs, and Dunya (worldly life) comes to him despite being reluctant to do so. And whoever makes Dunya his preoccupation, then Allah places his poverty in front of his eyes, make his affairs scattered, and nothing of the Dunya comes to him except that which has been decreed for him.” [At- Tirmidhi]

As expected, Maahira already had answers for me.

“Jamz,” she said seriously. “The corporate world is a brutal chase for pomp and pleasure, filled with trails of deceit and manipulation. The big guys do what they want, without consequence. They do what they need to just to get to the top. This is a classic case of the big guy using the little guy.. well, girl in this case. He had wealth and status, and he promised her the same. That’s all that mattered to her.”

”That’s disgusting,” I said, feeling hot with anger and annoyance.

How could she? How could she do that to herself? She betrayed us. She betrayed herself. How could she lower herself to that kind of level… just for money? Money.

”Don’t judge her,” Maahira said, and I could hear her shifting her approach, like she wanted to prove a point to me.

”How can I not judge her?” I scoffed, shaking my head again. “Would you do that, Maahi? Would you?!”

She laughed, but it was a humourless one.

I couldn’t help but feel like I was so naive. Maybe there was way more out there about the world that I had to learn about.

“You don’t want to know that answer.”

I breathed in and glanced at my bookshelf, itching for a distraction.

The rapid beating in my chest increased significantly. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know. It sounded like Maahira had a story to tell and the silence already spoke volumes.

“I was so caught up, that no one could have saved me,” she said, her voice dropping even lower. “It was a pure miracle that Allah Ta’ala put guidance into my heart before I did one of the worst things anyone could do. Before I broke up someone’s marriage, and compromised my own respect.”

”Alhumdulillah,” I replied softly, remembering the fall out that Mos and Maahi had a few months back. It was coming back to me now.

How she had suddenly changed her life had made me realise that whilst Mos had been plunged headfirst into a situation, Maahira had really done an amazing job slowly morphing into someone who I looked at with something close to admiration. Even her social media vibe had changed, where she stopped taking selfies and flashy posts and now documented interesting places, food and goods she loved in London.

I sighed. It was all I could manage before she spoke again.

“There comes a time when you realise that everyone will leave you,” she continued. “And when everyone leaves you, and you’re all alone… it’s only Allah that can come through for you. I had to see the light before I was destroyed by the darkness.”

On point. She was so right. Sometimes we forget that Allah can forgive all our sins, even when we’re not willing to forgive  others. Sometimes we forget how merciful Allah is, when we refuse to show mercy to others.

I understood but I still couldn’t say anything.

”Tell me what you thinking. Tell me you’re not thinking the worst,” she said, and I could hear the concern in her voice now.

I sighed. Again.

“I’m thinking that I can’t believe that she was prepared to accept anything just for that idiot. Who knows what else went on.”

“Jameela, listen,” she said quietly. “That’s life. We get involved with bad people. We make the wrong choices. We cherish someone who turned their back on us. Who hurt us. Who broke us. That’s life. It happens. We move past it, we make Tawbah and we get up again.”

“But Hamzah doesn’t deserve all this,” I argued, the anger igniting once again as I thought of all the opportunities she had to come clean. “I also think my parents should know what she’s planning to do and why.”

“You cant be making these decisions for her,” Maahira said firmly. “It’s her past and you cant tell anyone about this. They may know some stuff but not all of it. This is stepping directly into a problem you have nothing to do with.”

Maahira’s voice was serious, and tears burning the back of my eyes as she said it. It was a warning and I wasn’t sure why but I was so upset.

Sometimes we’re so quick to put our hurt and feelings above everyone else’s. Sometimes all logic flies out the window when emotions get involved.

Sometimes we forget the simple rule of leaving alone that which does not concern us. Maybe this was something that I had to just let her get though on her own.

”But why?” I said as I regained my composure. I couldn’t understand why I should.

I didn’t want to listen. I was angry with her. My sense was clouded. I was angry that she had been with Faadil. Angry that she had let this happen. Angry that she had abandoned us as her family for that period of her life, without even giving us a heads up. Angry that everything was coming back to break everything else apart.

“Mos was doing what was best for the family,” she said softly in a pleading voice. “She wanted to help your father and keep you guys out of the mess. She felt… responsible. You know your sister. She thinks that it’s her job to take care of everyone. Except herself.”

I breathed in and sat down, closing my eyes momentarily, a little overwhelmed by what Maahi had just told me. Once again.

Here i was thinking it was Mohsina that was bad, but in fact, I too was so messed up.

I breathed in, feeling the anger dissipating.

She wasn’t the bad person here. Yes, she had sinned but she had tried to fix it.

She did it all for my father. I mean, it wasn’t like I didn’t know but I didn’t think that she would want to marry someone to secure my fathers safety. I didn’t know that everything that happened was because of him.

“I just don’t like how this is all turning out,” I said, pulling at the hem on my top. “Im angry in some ways but I still wish that I could just help her somehow. Maahira, they can’t get divorced. It’s ridiculous and so horrible.”

”I know,” she said softly, sounding hopeless. “Those two have been through the worst and they’re so good together. They can’t just… die…”

I nodded.

“What can we do?”

There was silence for a bit before she spoke again.

”I think we just have to support them,” she said softly. “In what they choose, together. Apparently he’s got contacts who can work on this. I’m hoping that this will prevent them from… you know. She mentioned that there’s a Zubair guy that he’s been friendly with and who can help… you know him, right?”

My heart did a little leap as she said his name. It wasn’t a question.

Of course I knew. And I know that she knew too. Mohsina had probably told her that she didn’t want me involved with him.

She had gotten her wish. There was no way that Zubair would ever look at me again. And no way I would look at him.

Ever. Again.

“I know.”

Of course he had contacts.

I knew that him and Hamzah spoke. So did he and my brother, and the stories that M Husayn had first told me were quite something. At first I had thought that it was all fantastic, until I found the weapon stash.

My brother was fascinated by his past, but with everything we knew now, it kind of confirmed that Zubair was, in fact, some kind of  undercover mafia member in the past.

And as much as I tried to off my feelings for him, I still couldn’t imagine him being that kind of violent person. He kept the weapons because it all belonged to him, but the operative part was that it was his past and no one could find out about it.

That’s said, at least we didn’t have to worry about him murdering us in our sleep.

”I know it’s a lot to digest,” Maahi said, her voice kind now, as I heard some noises in the background. She sounded like she was back in the office now. “I know you’re worried about Mos, but I truly believe that her and Hamzah have the real thing. He’s going to make it work, whatever it takes. If anyone can get through to her, he can. Just make Du’aa, Jamz. Truly, you don’t know what it can change.”

My resolve was already strengthened because I knew that she was right.

They did have the real thing. And above everyone here, she did value him.

Through it all, I found myself wishing that Layyanah was around. She would know just the right words to say. The right kind of comfort to give.

What do you do in situations where there seems to be no way out… where every path looks the same? What do you do when it feels like you’re in a never ending maze that has no end?

My heart felt like it sunk to the ground, and while Maahi ended the call, I couldn’t help but still feel a little overwhelmed.

Seemed like Hamzah and Mohsina only had one hope, and wasn’t it just so ironic that it came down to Zubair? The whole thing was just so bizarre…

And despite my newly implemented disinterested stance, I knew that Zubair had been a little scarce and the low down that Maahi had given me explained why I hadn’t seen him around recently. It was weird that he was actually involved with helping my sister, and yet he was so averse to me.

I had been tracking him solely for the motive of avoidance. And of course, that would mean that he had probably consulted Papa about it too, and yet my father had barely mentioned it.

It wasn’t that I minded. It was just that I was hoping it would help Mohsina and set everything right again. I wished that it was all that easy. I wished that it could go away.

And with that hope, I found some peace. It wasn’t that I didn’t ask. I couldn’t not ask. I was worried and stressed and I really needed to know what was going on, but the dread of knowing the final verdict here was killing me.

It helped that the coffee shop had been a little busier and getting everything sorted out with Ma in the kitchen that week was keeping me busier than usual.

I tried to shove Zubair’s whereabouts and Mohsina’s problems out of my head for periods of time until the evenings came and it overwhelmed me all over again.

My parents were as unaware as ever. I mean, they knew that something was going on, and Mohsina had a ‘situation’, but they barely knew what drastic measures she was going to take.

She had sworn me to secrecy until she met with the lawyers and all I could do in the meantime was make a fervent Du’aa that everything was going to work out for her. It’s and that her marriage would be saved through it all.

My heart had taken enough of an emotional rollercoaster, and making sure the coast was clear on Friday as I stacked new boxes for take aways and filled up on coffee cups as my father cashed up, I couldn’t help but feel an emptiness that lurked within me. It felt like I was waiting for something to go off, or some kind of bomb to explode.

I wasn’t the paranoid type, but I still wasn’t sure which would happen first.

”I know it’s much less than it’s worth, but how’s about a coin for your thoughts?”

My father was smiling at me as he watched me, a wad of cash in one hand and a coin in his other. He had probably been watching me for quite a while, and I had barely even noticed.

I grinned back.

”It’s supposed to be a penny, Papa,” I said, winking at him.

He smiled and tossed me the coin.

The last time we had spoken properly was after I came back from London.

We had agreed that everything happens for a reason and Allah Ta’ala most definitely has a plan that is better. We had agreed that we wouldn’t bring the subject up again and that Zubair’s times and tasks would be allocated differently so I wouldn’t have to see him much.

I knew that Papa blamed himself, but I really didn’t. I just believed that this was the way it should be.

“Im just thinking of Mos, Pops,” I said with a small smile, letting him know that my thoughts were not on Zubair like he thought. “I miss her.”

There was a flash of a frown before he smiled, and for a minute, I thought Papa actually knew more than he was supposed to.

I loved my father. A lot. I was always the one to seek comfort in him, and turn to him if I was ever in a fix. He had been my support and my comfort, and I knew at any given time, he would come through for me.

But for Mohsina, I understood that it wasn’t ever like that. Papa and her had a different kind of bond. Mohsina relied on no one and confided in no one. They would have conversations, sure, but I knew that the forever fiercely independent Mohsina barely bore her heart to anyone.

To think that Papa knew something would be ludicrous. Right?

“You should talk to her,” he said again, a certain concern in his voice as he said it. “Does she know about, erm, the thing…”

My father cleared his throat and my cheeks reddened just at the way he raised his eyebrows and nudged his head toward the door.

This was so awkward. Having the conversation about a boy I had lost my sense over with your father was way more embarrassing than I thought. I wanted my money back.

“She knows,” I said, trying to hide my embarrassment. Never mind we’ve been skirting around it awkwardly too.

“And errr,” my father continued, digging in the back of the till and pulling out more money, probably concentrating on avoiding eye contact. “After, erm… You been okay?”

Oh my word, this was so mortifying. Also, the way Zubair had become ‘erm’ was quite original too.

“I’m fine,” I said, clearing my throat too and checking on the serviettes.

This conversation was becoming a little too intense for my liking, but the truth was, I was fine. I wasn’t as heartbroken as I had been… nor was I feeling as bulldozed as I had been a week ago.

Things might still be a little uncertain but I knew that all the duaa I had been making would come through for us. The Duaa of Musaa (AS) was definitely the reason why my faith had been unwavering. The reason why my heartbreak no longer felt so raw. Even if it wasn’t exactly looking up yet, I knew that soon there would be a little light.

“As long as you’re okay,” Papa said quietly. “Can’t upset the coffee cart again and change all of that.”

I frowned, a little perplexed by his words. I got his message, despite him stopping the apple for coffee. Clever trick.

But still.

My father was quite confusing. He had such a roundabout way of saying things, and at times it felt awkward to even ask him what he was talking about.

Now was precisely one of those times.

“I was talking to him, erm, last night,” he said hastily. “He came back quite late. With Hamzah.”

It didn’t take a brainiac by now to figure out who ‘erm’ was. And I had to pretend to be at least a little shocked that he was with Hamzah.

“Ah, I see,” I said, raising my eyebrows slightly. Papa’s brow was still furrowed as he turned to me.

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” he said, looking as guilty as the lion that ate the mouse. “He said he’s just helping with Mohsina’s case.”

It was no sweat. I wasn’t affected. Despite the racing heart, it’s as all cool.

I nodded meekly.

My father knew that Hammonds had kicked up old dirt. He knew about the money Mohsina had borrowed too. What my father didn’t know was the extent of Mohsina’s involvement with the main perpetrator.

Perpetrator. It felt good calling that good-for-nothing that.

”I’m glad he can help,” I said, trying my best to talk without emotion.

Never mind the turbulence brewing within.

”There’s one more thing he asked,” Papa said, now looking at me, as if trying to read me. “And I think Hamzah has something to do with it.”

”What’s that?” I asked, now slightly confused.

I mean, I knew that Hamzah and Zubair spoke before this too. I had seen them a conversing a few times outside, while Hamzah went out for a cigarette.

What I didn’t know was that while my sisters marriage was on the brink of collapse, my own marriage would be so tactfully arranged.

It was one of those intensely unexpected moments that would bring so much more than any of us expected. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was too surreal. Maybe I just felt everything so intensely.

I didn’t know that it may just be the solution to everything.

Well; almost everything.

“He changed his mind,” Papa said, almost as if he was holding his breath, waiting for the final verdict here. “Of course I will have to ask your mother, but I thought I’d let you know first. See if you okay with it after, you know, erm….”

Yes, I knew ‘erm’. And I was still highly embarrassed but now I was also almost holding my own breath, while I waited for Papa to finish this moment that was bringing on the most intense kind of anxiety.

And as expected, he didn’t fail to deliver.

“He asked if you would be okay with meeting him.”

---

Dearest Readers 

I’m so sorry for the delays. Been a busy holiday, but still trying to keep posts going. Please keep this weak author in your Duaas. As the new year comes upon us, let us spend the night in abundant istighfaar and Duaa. 
Though most of the work is on break, keep in mind that we are Muslim first.

Remember, keep safe, and keep it Halaal peeps. Peace y’all. Till next year.

❤️ 

Much Love, A x 

Mission Sunnah Revival

Sunnah of Thinking Good about others  

We’re so quick to assume bad things about people, even when we have no idea what’s the real story. Thinking the best about others is part of the Sunnah of Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) and is a great way to give us a positive outlook and always be good to others.

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnah

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

 

When Spring Comes

Bismihi Ta’ala

Saaliha

Part 54

I once heard a beautiful saying that went something like:

If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant.

And I suppose it really hit home for me because as humans, we are always ready to fall into the trap of complacency.

Ghaflat. We forget our bounties. We take our gifts for granted. When we don’t taste the bitterness of trials, even the good times become unexceptional. We forget that even though winter can be so bitterly cold, the beauty of spring can never be hindered….

And indeed, Allah Ta’ala sends the trials, whereby we may be purified, strengthened and returned to Him. Allah sends the trials because we have to know for sure that with that hunger, thirst and cold, Allah can also relieve us with abundant food, the water and the shelter. Allah placed the test in our midst, but with it, He beautifully placed within our breast the ṣabr (patience), and even the riḍā (contentment) to withstand it.

Yes, Allah (SWT) sent Adam (AS) down to this world where he would have to struggle and face trials… But with that forgiveness of the first prophet, he also gave us a hope of His Divine help.

…if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome…

And as I looked out that morning, smiling at the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine… I couldn’t help but feel my heart lift slightly at the sight.

And the thing is … the amazing thing is that when we begin to appreciate even the little things, it opens up much more than we thought we would ever see. There are always flowers for those who want to see them, even when it’s not the season. There is always beauty, in even the most trying situations.

A new season would be coming, and as winter made its way out that year, after we had enjoyed the long nights and fireplace evenings, I couldn’t help but but wonder what the next season would bring.

And little did I know what a host of emotions were in store that very weekend. Some may call them interventions. Some call them coincidental. Whatever the term, it’s true that there are some things in life that happen the way we don’t quite expect it to…

“Mummy,” Uthman called, running into the kitchen with a look on his face that signified that he was pretty amazed. “Guess who’s here?!”

When I pulled out a spatula from the kitchen drawer, I couldn’t help feel the gust of hot air from the oven throw me off-balance, as I flashed a grin at my child. The feeling of being slightly out of sorts was a little unfamiliar. The weather had been warming up too, and it was a complete blessing, especially in this part of the world, where temperatures went under zero degrees Celsius in the midst of winter. The way the sunshine filtered through the window was one of the most comforting feelings.

“Hmmmm,” I said, smiling at Uthman, and rubbing my temple. “Is it the president?”

”No!” Uthman said, smiling at me like I was crazy.

Uthman was always excited to have visitors. The following week was going to be one of the best ones for him because Fareeha’s kids would be coming, when she left for Hajj. To tell the truth, I was a bit nervous for my crazy sisters kids to be in my zone, but I knew that if I prepared myself in advance and overdosed on rescue remedy, I’d be just fine.

There was really no need to stress.

“Oh wait,” I said, scratching my head thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s someone else famous?”

”Not exactly,” he replied, still finding it hilarious that I couldn’t figure out who was there. The truth was, I did know, but of course, my son keeping me in suspense was the most entertaining thing for him.

“Well, whoever the superstar is,” I said triumphantly with a grin, as I watched Imraan come in. “Please tell me them to join us for lunch. I’m already well-prepared..”

”Mummy!” Uthman said, jumping on the spot and shaking his head at the same time. Where did he get so much of energy from?! “Come and see!”

I laughed as Uthman ran outside again, his excitement mounting as I watched Hamzah get off the car, greet Imraan and pop open the boot. In the past, Hamzah had always brought something small, even if it was a box of smarties for Uthman when he would come, and Uthman always looked forward to it. The fact that he actually hadn’t come here in months made it all the more exciting and I was quite aware that after Liyaket passed away, my brother-in-law had way too much on his plate to even think of it .

Imraan had already helped Hamzah take some of his bags through to the house next door, and catching him on his way back, I couldn’t help but ask.

”Is everything okay?” I asked softly, wiping my hands on a dish cloth in my hand so I could venture to the car  and greet them. “They came so suddenly…”

”Hamzah thought it was best to be out of town for a while,” he said quietly. “Don’t mention it though. He hasn’t told her.”

”Why not?” I asked, not thinking that this was a good idea. “If Zaid is at risk then he should..”

It was true. Anything that could potentially be a risk should be assessed and eliminated. The truth was, from the time that I heard that Layyanah’s brother had called Hamzah, I had been on edge and it definitely seemed like a risky thing.

”Don’t stress about it, love,” he said, with a small smile. “Allah will take care of it.”

”Insha Allah,” I said quietly as I followed him to the door, still not convinced.

And as the morning sun streamed in, I could not quite believe how beautiful the hilly farmlands appeared this morning. As spring approached, and with the onset of rain that had also brought much hope and potential… I felt as if I was looking at a completely new place.

I gazed out, the morning sun doing its thing over the grassy landscape, while I watched it slowly illuminate the stretches before me. I couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic. Like nostalgia in reverse, the longing for yet another hope and experience grew especially strong as winter started to wilt…

My eyes moved as I watched Hamzah already heading to the house that he usually used when he came, looking for Mohsina. It was about 200m away and Uthman was already excitedly chatting to him about the plans to do some exploring later in the day.

It was going to be a full house. My in-laws had also arrived the day before and having Zaid here was going to be the highlight of the weekend. I couldn’t wait to lay on the grass with him and blow raspberries on his chubby tummy. He was definitely going to bring the silly out of us that weekend, and I couldn’t wait to indulge myself to my hearts content.

“Assalamualaikum,” I called out, moving forward and helping Mohsina with her nappy bag and then reaching out to give her a hug as she jumped off the car with little Zaid. It had just been a few weeks and Zaid was looking like a little man already. I could not stop swooning over how cute he looked and I literally wanted to bite his cheeks off.

And I was literally about to take him into my arms when out of the blue, Rabia had already wedged herself in between Mohsina and I, swiftly snatching Zaid away before I even realised what was going on. I blinked, for a few minutes, looking at Mohsina in confusion, wondering what exactly had happened and where Zaid had gone to.

Rabia was already two meters away, grinning like the cat that caught the mouse.

”Sorry Sawls,” Rabia said, not looking sorry at all as she snuggled Zaid to her. “It’s my turn first. But don’t worry, you’re next. Mohsina, you and Hamzah can have some couple time. Take some snaps. I already told him that this weekend you aren’t going to have Zaid at all!”

She gave an evil laugh, walking away triumphantly as she gave him more cuddles. My sister-in-law was really something else. I looked at Mohsina, who was a little expressionless as she watched her, but skilfully recovering as she she smiled at me apologetically.

She looked like she was already well-equipped to handle Rabia.

”Sorry,” she said apologetically. “You know Rabia…

”Dont worry,” I said, waving my hand nonchalantly. “That’s Rabia, and we’re used to her. We’ll see you guys in a bit?”

Mohsina nodded, looking grateful that lunch was sorted. Each house was separate and had their own provisions, but there was no need for them to prepare if we already had more than enough.

I had already sorted my favourite salads because for me, a braai was all about the salads, and Imraan had already set up the stand for an old-fashioned charcoal barbecue. We kept it simple most times, but with everyone here, as always, my mother-in-law had really gone out of her way to prepare a bit more than necessary.

And as I got busy with taking out the lunch items, and setting the tables, I barely even have thought to what happened to Zaid thereafter. My mind was already working on overdrive, hoping that I wouldn’t forget to take out everything that we had made.

And after Rabia had forcefully removed him out of my arms, I had assumed that she had probably forgotten that I wanted to spend some time with Zaid too. I shrugged off the feeling of irritation as I heard the door opening, seeing Hamzah making his way in, with a disgruntled expression on his face as he looked around, greeting my mother-in-law who was seated in the lounge affectionately, and after a few seconds, looking even more frustrated than him, came Mohsina.

And it didn’t even click with me that Zaid wasn’t with either of them, until Mohsina came up to me, and said in a low voice:

”Have you seen Rabia?”

Mohsina was wearing a pretty but modest black dress with a sage coloured scarf. She looked particularly lovely and the colour really suited her, but as I looked at her troubled expression, it was only at that moment that I’d figured that the couple must have had a small tiff and it was very obvious that it was because of Rabia.

I shook my head, a little worried but not sure if I should do something. After all, Rabia was a law unto herself and she couldn’t have gone that far anyway.

”I’m sure she will bring back him soon,” I said, trying to assure her. “Must I call her? She probably took him for a walk.”

”Sorry,” Mohsina mumbled, looking at me gratefully now, slightly embarrassed. “Hamzah’s calling her for a while now. No answer. Anyways, I was so worried about him that I didn’t even ask if I can help with anything. Can I butter the rolls?”

I got it. She was worried about Zaid. How could she not be?

“Relax,” I insisted, smiling at her. “Everything is done. I’m sure Zaid is just fine and used to her. They must have had plenty of bonding time last week.”

I didn’t want to tell her how Rabia literally forced my in-laws to let her go to the house while Hamzah and Mohsina were supposed to be there alone. Their couple time must have been completely sabotaged.

Before she could say anything in reply though, I could see Hamzah making his way toward us, positioning himself just behind her while he leant on the counter.

”She’s on her way back with him,” he said, and I couldn’t help but hear that he sounded a little annoyed, but I wasn’t sure with who. “He fell asleep. Can you stop stressing yourself out now?”

Whether Rabia had meant to or not, I could see that she had succeeded in causing a row between the two of them. Hamzah was probably torn between his wife and his sister, probably wondering why Mohsina was so upset and thinking what the big deal was… but honestly, the brothers just didn’t quite see how manipulative Rabia could really be.

Mohsina just nodded briefly while Hamzah went back inside, and then turned to me, looking a little more settled, while she shrugged.

“Rabia is a little possessive over Zaid,” she said, her voice dropping. “Also, TMI… I know, but she saw the pill bottles the doctor gave me for induced lactation. I think she is worried she won’t get to spend enough time with him, but now she is really taking it a bit far.”

I didn’t want to tell her that Rabia just had a habit of going to extremes. Sometimes I wasn’t sure if she did it on purpose…

I didn’t comment on Rabia because I knew that nothing good could come out of it. I had learnt to keep silent at times like that, but the first part… well, that really interested, me.

“Wow… you’re really going to feed him?” I said, really feeling so excited for her, but not quite believing that she would actually do it.

She nodded, and her eyes were really shining with enthusiasm. I was just really quite surprised by the fact that she would be so willing.

”I’ve heard so many amazing experiences of bonding and how amazing it is to feed your baby,” she said quietly. “And you know… I was so fascinated to discover breastfeeding is mentioned in the Qur’an. I also read that the mother receives the reward of a good deed for every single drop she gives her child… did you know that?”

I was honestly amazed. How merciful is Allah Ta’ala that something which is so natural is rewarded in such great proximity. If only I knew that all those years ago, when I had fed Uthman for two full years, even though it was one of the most challenging things to do. Breastfeeding hadn’t been easy for me. I had suffered with the worst of issues during it, but I persisted because I wanted to do it.

“The baby doesn’t need anything besides the mothers milk for the first six months of their life,” I said ruefully while Mohsina smiled and nodded. That fact still amazed me, and she seemed amazed too.

“A huge saving, if only I’d known earlier,” she said light-heartedly. And of course she wasn’t serious, because how could anyone have ever known that she would be plunged into this kind of situation…

I smiled, although the entire situation still made me feel slightly heartbroken as I remembered how Layyanah had been so committed to exclusively breastfeeding.

“The price of formula has become crazy….”

I breathed in, trying to settle my emotions. I didn’t even realise that I was tearing. Gosh, it was her best friend, and I was going all emo on her…

Back to what she was saying…

“You’re right,” I said softly, swallowing and blinking hard to stop the tears. “It’s not only formula though. I actually got a shock when I went to the supermarket last week with Imraan and we cashed up. Everything is just gone so expensive…”

I mean, there was nothing like the price of commodities to bring you back to reality.. Everything was getting more and more pricey, and the cost of living globally was almost unmanageable for the majority of the world.

But all of that… the way we found ourselves in this predicament is something that is mentioned that on one occasion that Musaa (Alaihi Salam) once asked Allah (SWT), something to the effect of:

What is a sign of your happiness?

Allah Ta’ala, in reply, said to him that’s when He is happy… then the worlds processes take place in great harmony. This will mean that at the time of sowing the seeds into the ground, Allah Ta’ala sends his rain… and then, at the time of harvesting, Allah Ta’ala holds back His rain. Everything happens at the right time, in a methodical process. A sign of Allah’s happiness is that He puts the administrative and financial affairs of the people in the hands of people who are righteous and generous. That the events of happenings of the world occur in harmony…

Musaa (AS) then asked, Ya Allah, what then, will be the sign of Your unhappiness?

So Allah Ta’ala replied to say that the opposite is done. That in this case, when the people are sinful, the rain is not sent when it is needed. When the world is commuting evil, the rulers of the people are corrupt and incompetent. When everything is in havoc…  the price of consumables and life becomes almost unbearable.

And there is no other reason but our own sins. Our bad deeds and disregard for Allah’s laws is what brings the inflation, the corruption and the predicament we find ourselves in today…

I sighed, feeling a bit deflated about the situation, knowing that we could only start with ourselves. My mother-in-law had come to the kitchen already, talking jovially to Mohsina about Zaid now, as Mohsina made his bottle and they ventured into the feeding topic again.

It was baby talk all over again and it was cute, but I was never really ready to engage in it completely. And it wasn’t that I was jealous. I had passed that point a long time ago. I was really happy that Zaid now had a family that loved him so much, and a mother figure like Mohsina, who took him as her real son.

It was just that I wasn’t always sure how to react. I wasn’t even sure if I had a place in Zaid’s life, although I loved him to bits. Now, as Mohsina asked my mother-in-law her own advice about breastfeeding, I could see that she was extremely thrilled about the prospect, and the two of them were already speaking about how the hormones also change your body, moods and emotions.

It seemed to be scaring Mohsina a bit, because my mother-in-law had already told her that she would have to start trying to latch him soon if she really wanted to go through with this. That part had caught her off guard.

And as they spoke, I couldn’t help but feel like pregnancy and breastfeeding was so far off for me. Every month had been a waiting game, and it had come to the point when I didn’t even track my cycle anymore, because it would just leave more room for more grief and disappointment… disappointment which I just could not handle anymore.

Sometimes you just had to learn a little more about gratitude. I had learn to live in the moment. To be happy with what Allah had given me. I had learnt to look at those who couldn’t have kids at all, and be grateful for the fact that Alhumdulillah… Allah had given me one beautiful child at least.

And for starters… well, I wasn’t even dreading the onset of my menstrual cycle that month. It usually left an aching hole in my gut, for the first two days, until the feelings of inadequacy and brokenness had faded. And this month… well, I was due for it…

I paused with drizzling chocolate over the pavlova casings as I caught a snippet of what my mother-in-law and Mohsina were chatting about, while my mind tried to figure out dates. Uthman and the men were well out earshot and they were already having a full on coversation of pregnancy woes and breastfeeding problems.

”With Hamzah and Rabia I was just big all over,” my mother-in-law was saying, smiling fondly as she recalled. After ten years, she had the twins, but it must have been memorable in a way that she couldn’t forget. I just couldn’t imagine.
Carrying twins must have been something else completely.

“I had to be on her rest from 20 weeks,” she continued. “It was the longest 12 weeks ever, but Allah made it all work out perfectly in the end. They both came home after a week and the moment I saw them, I had already forgotten about the pregnancy…”

How beautifully Allah plans it. The minute we lay our eyes on that beautiful bundle, everything discomfort seems like nothing at all. I suppose that’s why Jannah was so beautiful. When we glimpse that beautiful abode, well… everything will make sense…

“Layyanah was all tummy,” Mohsina was saying, smiling notalgically. “All I remember her saying was that she just felt bloated at the beginning, and she did a test and it was positive…”

My mother-in-law smiled and I looked at her with interest, almost as if she had said something majorly significant.

Did she just say bloated? 

The calculations in my mind were still going on as I tried to figure out if I was right. According to that… I was already 4 days late. I mean, it wasn’t groundbreaking, but 4 days was 4 days, right? I mean, I did usually get a bit tired and bloated… but the thing is, now that Mohsina mentioned the bloating, welll… I knew I was definitely feeling it.

But no. It could not be. I was getting my hopes up for nothing.
Pregnancy is just one of many things that can cause bloating. It could be anything else. Anything else at all.

And of course, there was no need to think otherwise. In my head at that point, I was still telling myself that I would just wait for the usual thing to happen, as it had, almost every month for seven years, and deal with it when it does.

And as Rabia came back with Zaid at that very moment, all in high spirits with not even a consideration for Mohsina’s worry, I immediately took the bottle from her and asked her if I could feed him, before placing him on the carpet with little play gym I kept there for him. I wanted to forget my recent discovery, and losing myself in his gurgles and giggles was an amazing feeling.

I was literally obsessed with his double dimpled smile and his tiny fingers and toes. I really wished that they would stay longer than just the two days, and I knew that if I asked Imraan to talk to Hamzah, he may agree. It would be the perfect distraction for me, and I knew I needed it right then.

And despite the slight drama between Mohsina and Rabia that had ensued, the rest of the evening had been beautifully smooth. I was trying very hard not to focus on how many days late I was. Instead, I had turned my attention to the weather, noting that it was one of those amazing days that were mild and cool, but as the sun started to set, I could see Imraan already getting the fireplace ready for the chill that would take over soon.

Zaid was stationed permanently next to Rabia now, who was keeping them both warm while Mohsina and Hamzah had headed off for a little walk while there was still light outside.

And knew that I was being a little obsessive, but as I visited the bathroom to make whudhu (ablution), I couldn’t help but pop my head into the second drawer, wondering if I would be completely bonkers if I actually used a test right then. There were still two brand new ones, and as I glanced at them, something in me was creating an overwhelming desire to just check.

As much as I was trying to avoid it, I was one of those people who just couldn’t switch off my crazy. When something was gnawing at me, any slightly lenient situation would put me in a fix. After all, there was still some time before Maghrib salaah and I was already in my bathroom. The night would be busy and then if he too tired to check later.

Why not? My mind was saying. You’re already late.

And of course, the sensible part of my mind begged to differ.

So what if I was late? Four days wasn’t even a record.

You rather just check. You won’t be disappointed after. Whatever happens is Allah’s will.

That was true as well. But what about the disappointment after? 

I couldn’t stop myself. Despite the doubt and uncertainty, I had to know. I just couldn’t wait any longer.

I literally wanted to block my eyes after, not knowing how to bring myself to look.

I knew it took up to two minutes sometimes, but I also knew that when something was cooking then the result came quicker, and as I washed my hands and summoned every bit of courage I had within me to make its show… well, I finally allowed my eyes to stray to the stick that was lying next to the sink…

And when I say my heart skipped a beat, it was no exaggeration. Right there, were two dark pink lines staring at me… and I had to literally pinch myself to check if I wasn’t dreaming.

I hadn’t even realised that my heart was hammering noisily in my chest, and everything else had just taken a backseat for those few moments…

The winter was bitter… but the results of spring were oh-so-sweet…

I could barely believe that within my heart, as hope blossomed with no reservation, like the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine…

My entire heart was bursting, as I realised that even when you cut off all the flowers in the winter…

You can never stop Spring from coming once again…

---

Sunnah of Forgiveness:

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

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

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

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

Aaameen.

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

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

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

#RevivetheSunnahofbeingGrateful

#RevivetheSunnahofQur’aanTilaawat

#ReviveSunnahofDuaa

#SunnahofMaintainingTies

#RevivetheSunnahofSadaqah

#RevivetheSunnahofGivingGifts

#RevivetheSunnahofGoodAkhlaaq

#RevivetheSunnahbeforeSleeping

#RevivetheSunnahofGuardingtheGaze

#RevivetheSunnahofLickingtheFingers

#RevivetheSunnahofMiswaak

#RevivetheSunnahofEnteringtheToilet

#RevivetheSunnahofSpeakingGood

#RevivetheSunnahofUsingtheRighthand

FB/Instagram: @thejourneyingmuslimah

A Perfect Twist

Bismihi Ta’ala

Saaliha

Part 48

Ping.

Fareeha: Ah come on, Sawls. I just want 2 test the waters. C if she may be interested.

I narrowed my eyes at my phone, grabbing a handful of choc peanuts as I walked out of the kitchen, and sitting on the couch to munch on them. See if she may be interested?

Fareeha sounded like a predator on the prowl. As if the previous evening had not been enough for me. I was at my wits end as I witnessed Fareeha literally chatting my sister-in-law up, asking her all sorts of questions, probably trying to see if she was a suitable match for her husband. I’m not even sure how normal the situation was or how sane my sister actually was.

Me: Please Far. You are giving me more stress this way. Rabia has been testing my patience nowadays and if we are related in more than one way, it may just tip me over the edge.

Fareeha: Lol *can’t watch face* That bad?

I knew I sounded mean but it was true. I snuck a glance at my sister-in-law, seated in frying of me in a cuffed jeans with a white tie-up blouse with her hair tied back in a pony, jotting down something from her phone to her diary.

She was so immersed in her task, that she barely noticed my strained expressions. Her entire existence was channeled into this one function and it made me wonder what she was going to do after it was all over.

Me: yes. Bad. Also, there will be plenty of other people there tomorrow that may be more suitable.

I didn’t want to say that I would help her find someone because knowing Fareeha, she would twist my arm to do so or follow me around relentlessly while greeting guests and insist that I let her chat up every eligible female.

Fareeha: okay fine. Just tell me one thing.

I sighed, bracing myself for more questions about Rabia, who was literally sitting in front of me now and penning down the final list of finger foods that had to be at the entrance table.

I was supposed to be helping her but Fareeha was doing a pretty good job at distracting me.

Fareeha: Am I being a crazy woman?

I stopped myself from sending another mean reply. today was better than other days.

Me: Not today.

Which was there truth. She was being a little more reasonable than usual and not pushing her agenda in true Fareeha style.

Fareeha: good. Need a diversion. I’m just trying 2 take my mind off that appointment for Uzayr on Monday. I’m so nervous. What if they say my son is beyond repair?

I internally cringed. I had completely forgotten about it.  Fareeha was taking her son to a speech therapist tomorrow for an assessment.

It was a private lady who worked with little kids, and though I wasn’t sure if it would be the solution. Either way, I was just glad she was doing something but I was equally worried for her.

I sighed, glancing up momentarily at my husband and in-laws who were in the open plan kitchen, as I made my way toward the nook again, phone still in hand. I was supposed to be checking it the events lady had started the lady’s set up today. The venue was only hired from tomorrow morning but Rabia, being Rabia, had insisted they give us time to set up today.

“I hope I didn’t forget anything,” Rabia said, looking from her phone to the notepad in front of her, and then frowned slightly. “Oh gosh. The burfee. I didn’t fetch the burfee.”

Imraan barely noticed. He too, was tapping on his phone incessantly while I quickly sent a few reassuring words for Fareeha before I placed my phone, screen down, on the center island.

everything will be okay. Trust Allah. Du’aas always xx

We never lose hope. No matter how bad or how hopeless. A believer must always have hope.

”Must I go and fetch it?” I asked sweetly, hoping the quiet time would give me a chance to think of the best way to deal with Fareeha tomorrow.

Rabia had given me a list of other things like drinks, cakes and biscuits to sort and set up for the function.

”No!” Rabia said, looking appalled that I could even suggest that. “I need your help with the drinks too. And the flowers, plus to go over the front set up. Maybe Daddy or Imraan could go?”

We had already gone over the front set-up a dozen times. It was to be absolutely immaculate, with a sparkling runner and one floral arrangement at the centre. There also needed to be a person stationed there, to make sure kids don’t mess it up.

I glanced at my father-in-law, who was sitting on the couch with Uthman, looking at a wildlife video.

“I don’t think Daddy is moving from the couch today,” I said, flashing a smile.

My father-in-law had a lot of running around that week, fetching and getting things that my mother-in-law was trying to sort out. Having a function was more tiring that we thought. Sometimes it just took these discomforts to remember the wisdom in simplicity.

If only we had gone for a function at the house or farm that was half the size but Rabia had insisted that it was necessary to invite everyone. The list just wasn’t coming to an end.

“Well, if Imraan could get off his damn phone and actually do something then it may actually help!” Rabia snapped, clearly getting agitated at how engrossed Imraan was, that he didn’t even notice her burfee dilemma.

He glanced up, phone still in hand, as he rubbed his forehead emphatically.

“Sorry,” he said meekly. “It’s just… Hamzah.”

”Ooh,” she said excitedly. She clearly was in a good mood. Rabia thrived on good stress.

“I didn’t even check my Instagram to see if Mohsina loaded any pics. Ask him how’s that place? The reviews were really good. Plus, they’re fully halaal.”

“I’m sure it’s good. He says it looks like the pics. He just has another… issue.”

Imraan looked stumped as he said it, and Rabia immediately raised her eyebrows at him.

My heart, for some reason, beat a little faster. I knew instantly when my husband was stressed.

”Trouble in paradise already?” She asked, and I couldn’t help but notice the tiny smirk on her face as she said it. “It’s about time the past came back to haunt them.”

Now, why must she be like that?

”Rabia, stop making assumptions,” my mother-in-law warned. “It’s not nice what you are saying. Wishing well on others is part of having good akhlaaq..”

Imraan shook his head.

I was hoping not. We didn’t need Hamzah in depression again. Once in his lifetime was quite enough. I had nevere seen my brother-in-law so hung up over someone, as he was when things didn’t work out with Mohsina. After he lost Liyaket, I honestly thought that he was going to lose his mind, until Zaid came to save the day.

”I’m just asking. It’s not like past events won’t pop up. How can you all just forget so easily about how Mohsina literally went awol and left Hamzah on a whim?” Rabia continued, ignoring my mother-in-law and raising her eyebrows. “Did anyone ever ask him what went on? Did anyone even wonder what really went on all these months?”

”Its not really our business,” Imraan said, and I agreed, despite the niggling feeling that Rabia wasn’t rest assured. “And Hamzah was the one who called it off and he doesn’t talk about it. Why must you worry about it?”

”Because it’s weird,” she said, here eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You guys know she’s quite a sensation on the gram. All that time her followers were skyrocketing when she was posting over-the-top content on social media. High-flying life. Most riveting socials. If I’m not mistaken, I’m sure she was probably even involved with someone in the interim-“

”Stop,” Imraan said sternly, holding his hand up. “All this is not necessary to bring up.”

I was glad he said it. That he made her stop, and verbalised it. That he made her guard her tongue, although I feared that it may have been a little late. My mother-in-law looked visibly stirred by what Rabia had just said.

Also, well, Rabia and her mouth was something that had to be addressed sooner or later. And often times, just because of the tongue, marriages and relationships are completely trashed. People are hurt. Old dust is dug up. The one muscle in our mouth is sometimes many a reason for horrible consequences.

And I remembered the story that occurred, on the occasion of the farewell Hajj, when the camel of Safiyyah bing Huyayy (RadiAllahu Abha) went lame and refused to move and she was left with no conveyance to continue.

Zaynab (RA), another wife of Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) had an extra camel and the Prophet (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) asked her if she would give it to Safiyya.

Zaynab, visibly displeased with the suggestion, retorted, “Should I give to that Jewess!”

It’s reported that just by the three words she uttered, Nabi (Sallalahu Alaihi wa Sallam) turned away from her in anger and would not have anything to do with her for two or three months not to show his disapproval of what she had said.

And sometimes we overlook what our mouths utter, with very little regard for how we may come across. Sometimes we have no consideration for the feelings of others, as long as our own egos are fed, not even thinking twice about the consequences of that action that may just be done in the moment…

“I was only saying what’s true,” Rabia said, flicking her hair back as she retied her pony. “When someone exposes their entire life on Instagram then it’s only natural that people will nitpick and dissect every bit of information… especially when it’s someone as popular as her.”

Hmmmm. Mohsina was on a roll with her social media the last few months, before her life completely changed. But that’s what mattered, wasn’t it?

“Let’s not forget that Mohsina had changed a lot of her life before Hamzah and her got proposed again,” I said quietly, not really wanting to butt in but knowing that it was important that she understood it.

And I wasn’t biased just because Hamzah was my brother-in-law, but Rabia had to also understand that Hamzah wasn’t a saint back when they got proposed for the first time either. Sometimes we are just too possessive over our own people to understand the truth of a situation…

“That’s precisely the point,” Imraan said, agreeing with me, as he placed his phone down. “And I hope you’re not planning on telling Hamzah any of that Instagram stuff. You know how he hates it.”

”Exactly,” Rabia retorted. “That’s why he should know about it!”

Goodness.

I wanted to drill some sense into her.

”Don’t cause issues,” Imraan said heatedly. “There’s a little baby involved. With Zaid, things are different and you know that. I think they value that more than anything. They’ve taken Maulana’s advice and it’s sure to be a source of Barakah for them because this situation is avoiding more conflict between families. They want to make this work. Obviously it will take effort and compromise and now that there’s been a call from Layyanah’s family about Zaid…“

I sucked in my breath, feeling immediately concerned. If the family had been in contact, did that mean they wanted him?

”About Zaid?” I said, my heart beating faster. “Do they want him?”

Imraan glanced at me knowingly, and I could immediately sense his own concern.

“We’re sorting it out,” he said, almost absent-mindedly, as he typed on his phone again.

But Rabia didn’t even notice that. She was still stuck on the previous train.

”Not every marriage is the same,” Rabia said bluntly, looking visibly taken aback by what Imraan had mentioned. “What if only one partner is willing to make the compromise, and the other is only intent on messing around and sucks all the barakah out of the marriage? What if the guy lies, and they say stuff about what they are and they’re really not that way? What if he acts like someone he isn’t, because he just wants to fit all the priorities you set. I have been married before, you know, and men are just disgusting  liars who take advantage of the women who love them.”

I glanced at Imraan, who was looking a little too terrified to say anything more here. Rabia was taking this a little personally.

My mother-in-law had already started talking calmly, trying to make amends.

”All Imraan was saying is that we all have to work on ourselves, our marriages, and to build that connection with Allah and to keep trying -“

”You think I didn’t work on my marriage?” Rabia almost yelled, cutting her mother off, obviously only hearing what suited her grievances and twisting the words. “Is that what you are suggesting? I worked hard. I I put up with his disappearances. With his bad habits. I did everything that I could to make him happy but he still went off with that thing from the office.”

I sucked in my breath, widening my eyes as my mother-in-law sighed, and then turned away. I knew what this was about.

What was that saying? You can take the horse to the water but you cannot, by any means, force it to drink.

There were some things we didn’t mention, and this had always been one of them. The reason for Rabia’s divorce wasn’t exactly a secret, but I did have an idea that it wasn’t only an infidelity issue on his part.

And okay, I did understand that Rabia had a tough marriage. Extremely difficult, in fact. It couldn’t have been easy, going through everything that she did. To top it off, when she had heard that Hamzah and Mohsina knew each other from the office, it was like an offence to her…

It was also evident that Rabia did harbour some resentment and found it unfair that things had worked out for Mohsina, and not for her.

”We know that,” my mother-in-law said in a soothing tone. “You did try. But also, this is not your marriage that we are talking about. We know this wasn’t easy for Hamzah either. Instead of saying bad things, rather make Duaa that this decision they made was a good one, and that their marriage is filled with love and barakah. Let’s make Du’aa that Zaid is also not taken away from them. There’s no need to wish bad upon anyone just because you had a tough time in yours.”

For once, Rabia seemed a little short of words.

”Fine,” she said, blinking back tears and rolling her eyes. “It’s not like anyone cares about me anyway. At least I still have Zaid, if Mohsina doesn’t hog him to herself. What was the reason to even take him with?! Next week I will force them to go by themselves and hold him hostage.”

She pulled her face, and I smiled because I could do see she was over the worst of her meltdown.

My mother-in-law smiled too, glad to have a lucky escape from any huge tantrum, and continued with her work, almost as if nothing had even happened. I assumed that she was a little over Rabia and her antics, and there was no-one in the room who wouldn’t say the same. She was in a better mood today than any other day, and we were grateful to be spared.

But the news about Zaid… well, that was still in the back of my mind. I did ask Imraan if we could keep him while they went away, but I understood that they wanted him with them too. I mean, it was the first time he would have them both to himself, and we had to respect their wishes.

And, now, his mother’s family were suddenly very interested in getting to know him and I wondered if it was only because Hamzah and Mohsina had decided to make him a part of their own little unit. Were they possible feeling threatened that they would never have a chance with Zaid now that he had his own family?
It was it some other excuse that had kept them from him all this time?

I didn’t want to think of the possibilities. Why was life so complicated..?

I breathed out, trying to dispel my anxiety.

Tawakkul, right? What was I just telling Fareeha. We never lose help in Allah. No matter what obstacle or challenge, Allah is always in full control.

“I’ll go for the burfee,” my father-in-law’s voice suddenly said from where he sat, eager to make an escape as he got Uthman on his feet quickly too, and headed off. The fact that my son had possibly overheard this conversation was a concern, but I was still feeling restless about other developments. The news about Zaid was unsettling me.

In fact; as the time for the waleemah approached the next day… a lot of things were unsettling me.

The conversation with Rabia that day, the things she had said, the news about her past marriage.. had unsettled me too.

And even as we continued with the next hours preparation, I couldn’t help but think that maybe I might have been a little too harsh on Rabia. That I may have been a little too quick to judge. She did have a tough time. Maybe I wasn’t giving her a chance. Maybe, by writing her off, and thinking her unworthy… I was being a horrible person that didn’t want good for anyone else either.

The thing was, after Ramahdaan, I had made a resolution to try and be better. To overlook. To make the most of the polishing that my heart had endured during the beautiful month, and keep my heart on a nobler and more purposeful path.

And how? Well, when you get married, you don’t expect your spouse to fulfill your every need. When you have friends, don’t expect friends to fill your emptiness. Seek the help of people, but realise that they cannot save you.

And if there’s one recipe for unhappiness, its that; expectations. As humans, we never ,lose hope. The problem, thoigh, is where we place our hope. My hope and expectations were in people, things and relationships… when my hope and faith should only be in Allah.

Only Allah can save you.

And perhaps that’s where Rabia, the past Mohsina, and everyone of us at some point, get it wrong.

And I hadn’t mastered it, but people around you sometimes help you to learn the lessons you need to.

And as the next day approached us, faster than we thought, and excitement in the air was mounting immensely. There was great preparation put into the entire day. My sister-in-law was very precise in her timing and had allocated a time for everyone to leave the house. The plan was for the new couple to change at the home, and my mother-in-law was desperate to see how the outfit they had bought for Mohsina would fit her, before we would leave, and Hamzah and Mohsina would follow about half hour after.

And of course, meeting the newly weds (I was just glad they weren’t late) was the cherry on the top, after seeing how rested and calm Zaid looked after his night away with his most favourite people, I was already in better spirits. I had faith. Hope that this really was the best thing. I was completely convinced that Hamzah and Mohsina would pull through, with Zaid always with them, and that everything would be perfectly all right.

And the thing was… If there was one thing I could salute my sister-in-law on, it was the fact that she had done everything to utter perfection, but still managed to keep it simple. And yes, maybe she had gone a little overboard with the entrance tables and the multiple floral arrangements on each table, but even as my brother-in-law looked cynically at it all, he couldn’t fault her.

And of course, I was glad that it was all going smoothly. Everyone was looking amazing.

Zaid was even wearing a cute mini-suit, and I couldn’t help but steal him away from Mohsina, even though he was instantly attached to her the minute he saw foreign people. He had settled down after a few minutes, and whilst Hamzah and Mohsina stayed in the car for a few minutes extra, probably chatting about the latest developments with Zaid, I couldn’t help but silently hope that everything was okay.

I knew that Hamzah had requested a security guard at the venue and Imraan had arranged it through Maulana Umar, and were being extra cautious with who was taking him. Glad that they trusted me with him, with special instructions of course, I kept his close to me, but even letting anyone else carry him.

With the new snippets of information about Layyanahs family being in contact, my heart was half in my throat as I witnessed Mohsina scanning the hall, as if for some invasion that we weren’t expecting.

The fact that something was threatening to go wrong had obviously got them on edge too, but I was optimistic that nothing could spoil this day.

And so far, as we scurried around, taking care of guests and awaiting the Du’aa and Qiraat recital, I was quite convinced that everything would be perfect.

I had just turned to see Laila and Haseena walking in together, and as I offered them a wave, maybe my thinking about everything going wonderfully was too optimistic because it just happened but none other than my lovely sister scurried in after them, chatting to Laila excitedly and then clapping her eyes on me, before she instantly came over.

And of course, I was already prepared for some dramatics as I had just excused myself from Mohsina’s family table, when I turned to my sister, wondering what she was going to start with about right then and hoping that her old ambitions of finding a co-wife were not still at the forefront of her mind.

“I’m so excited,” she said, her voice only slightly high-pitched as she pulled me aside. “You cannot believe what just happened.”

To tell the truth, I was afraid to ask.

But I would forever be in suspense if I didn’t.

”What?” I asked, shrugging my shoulders as I held Zaid a little tighter. How was I supposed to know?

“Aadil just got an SMS,” she said, her voice sounding thick with excitement. “Remember we put our name down for Hajj all those years ago?”

Hajj. My heart contracted just at the thought of the beautiful journey. Imraan and I had first gone, two years after we were married, when I couldn’t fall pregnant.

I remembered the feeling of rejuvenation I already felt, even as I stepped off the plane, being on the blessed lands for the first time in my life. I recalled the feeling of atonement, as I glimpsed the Ka’abah.. knowing it would be live at first sight. The emotion that had engulfed me, when I stepped out for the journey of a lifetime, that was both exhausting yet exhilarating and such a spectacular experience that nothing else in my life could ever have anything on it.

The cherry on the top, of course, as I had made constant Du’aa for Allah to cleanse my body of the infertility and grant me a child… when I had gotten home, I was already expecting Uthman and donned the niqaab and I already knew that Hajj was the reason that my life had to change for the better…

After all, Allah had done so much for me. He had blessed me with so much, just by virtue of that small sacrifice that I had made, which could never compare to the sacrifice of Ibrahim (Alaihi Salaam) that we were emulating,

“You’re going for Hajj?” I asked meekly, my expression unashamedly riddled with conflicting emotion. While I was so happy for my sister, my own heart felt extremely grieved that I wasn’t the one who would be going once again.

Selfish, I know. Who better than my sister to enjoy this perfect gift…

She nodded, already looking as if she was beyond happiness.

Nevertheless, I planted a smile on my face, because I did know for sure that this experience was one that would completely change her life for the better.

It was the perfect twist. I had glimpsed Rabia in the crowd, taking some snaps of the decor only, because Hamzah would have probably had her head for it if anything else… but honestly, she looked happier than she had in a while.

She was visibly excited, even as some older aunty I didn’t know came and spoke to her, and I secretly hoped that there was a son that she had for my sister-in-law who would be suitable…

In addition, Fareeha’s attention was now completely off Rabia and diverted onto the most amazing journey of her life, and I couldn’t help but feel that somehow, this would perhaps soothe her erratic nerves.

Even with her reservations and challenges, there’s nothing that Du’aa could not solve. Nothing that the polishing of the heart could not assist, and I needed to remind her of this before she embarked on her beautiful journey.

And I was so overwhelmed with emotion, that I barely even noticed someone playing with Zaid over my shoulder, as I smiled widely at Fareeha.

“I’m so happy for you,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes as I pulled her towards me. “I have a whole list of Du’aas for you. This is going to be a journey you will never forget.”

---

Assalamualaikum dearest Readers

Please forgive me for my delay. A bit of a longer post to make up for it ❤️

Trust that everyone has a wonderful Eid ul Adha. 

Just to give a little spirit of Hajj… I thought it would be good to bring in a little reflection. May Allah grant us understanding of this great sacrifice.

I hope that during these days, where the most beloved actions to Allah is Ibaadat, we made the most of it. Every action, every charity, every right we fulfill… everything is ibaadat for a Mu’min. Just to stay away from Haraam, itself, is ibaadat. Let’s make extra effort to stay away from Gheebat, social media and all other forms of haraam.

May Allah forgive us and accept all our ibaadat.

PS. Don’t forget your Takbeer after every Fardh  Salaah, and remember to make lots of heartfelt Duaa…. especially for this sinful author.✨

Much love,

A xx

The day of Eid is a day of celebration within the boundaries of Sharee’ah.

Those that slaughter, must read,

Bismillaahi Allawhu Akbar
بسم الله، الله اكبر
Then slaughter.

Males must not intermingle with those strange females, we are not permitted to, in Islaam.

When we uphold the Sharee’ah, الله تعالى will bring about favorable conditions.

_Takbeer e Tashreeq after every FARDH salaah._

اللَّهُ أَكْبَرُ اللَّهُ أَكْبَرُ لَا إلَهَ إلَّا اللَّهُ وَاَللَّهُ أَكْبَرُ اللَّهُ أَكْبَرُ وَلِلَّهِ الْحَمْدُ

Allaahu Akbar, Allaahu Akbar laa ilaaha illallaahu wal’laahu Akbar. Allaahu Akbar wa lillaahil hamd.

“Allaah is the Greatest, Allaah is the Greatest. There is no deity besides Allaah and Allaah is the Greatest. Allaah is the Greatest and all praises belong to Him Alone.”

Mission Sunnah Revival

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 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 ­

Epilogue: Extreme Expectations

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khalid

Whether it’s work, family, life be or friends… the reality of this world is that you will find yourself on the brink of insanity at least once. This is because the world is created such that when you have Allah, no storm is too overwhelming. If you don’t have Him, you will get knocked over by even the slightest of a breeze. 

There are men created by Allah Ta’ala who are so wholeheartedly attached to him that even Jannah, with all its bounties and eternal bliss cannot distract them from the contemplation of Allah. How then can the temporal world engage their attention? 

The thing was, to be those kind of people, we had to work at it. We had to keep reminding. Remembering. We have to keep having faith  that the One who writes our story is free from any imperfections or mistakes. That His knowledge surpasses ours and that with His Divine foresight, He has prepared a future for us that will be the answer to every Duaa. 

Duaa. Oh yes, Duaa. How our prayer can penetrate beyond the heavens was beyond me. How easy it was to just raise your hands to the one, and see the doors of His mercy opening up… I still couldn’t comprehend. And I knew this much. By Allah, He will never ignore your prayer. I knew this much before that was what she had always taught me… even as a little kid. My mother was an inspiration. Always and forever. Whenever I would look at her, all I would ever see in her was faith. Immense reliance on her Allah.

And even as I sat with her for a few minutes before the Waleema rush would start, the same smile I always knew played on her lips, but there was a deep contentment within her that was long awaited. I had barely had a chance to speak to her properly and it was no wonder…. everything in the past day had just happened so fast.

“There had been so many Duaas,” she said quietly. “So many hopes and wishes. I knew that in the end my Allah wouldn’t let me down… of course He wouldn’t. Look at how wonderfully everything worked out…”

It was just another one of His immense favours on us. Immensely magnificent favours that I couldn’t even comprehend. 

“What a rush,” she smiled, shaking her head. “It took you long enough and then it was all fast forward, huh? What’s the plans from here, handsome?”

I smiled back, placing my hand on hers. I had to prepare my mother for what I wanted to do. I still had dreams. Things I wanted to achieve for myself. It was hard to pull the plug on it all…

“I’m not sure,” I said. “Maybe we’ll go to Egypt. Maybe we’ll go somewhere else. Start afresh. It may be difficult to start a life here where everything is lingering…”

I trailed off and her face fell. Besides teaching Deen, after all, I had been asked to go back to Egypt and continue my grandfathers legacy. There was much for me still back there. He had taught me about engineering and everything I knew to get his business going again..

“Don’t take my beautiful Khawlah so far away from me,” she whispered, holding onto my hand tighter. “Things didn’t always go the way I expected but she was always close by. Please.”

My mother’s charcoal eyes were riddled with worry as I processed what this meant. After all these years, my wife had somehow become the daughter that she never had. Since I had left, there had been a gap filled by the girl that I had always set my sights on.

And no, I wasn’t offended by her remark. There was an inkling of admiration in her voice as she said it and there was no doubt that she was right. I smiled at the irony, though, because it was just yesterday when the guy at the Masjid had made me feel like I had done the most admirable thing on earth by marrying a widow with a child. I didn’t see it that way. For me, I was the honored one. He didn’t know what Khawlah was worth. He didn’t that he was that he was way off track.

Of course, trust my mother to put it into the correct perspective for me. What I understood was that a husband had a special place with a wife. I knew that life was not always as we planned. Sometimes the processes and layouts were a little boggled up, but I was prepared to do anything to try and live up to what was expected from me.

And I supposed it was coincidence but when Maulana Umar had unashamedly praised him and said that Aadam was another Mus’ab of our time, I couldn’t help but see a parallel when he mentioned it. The lessons of that story were way to deep not to miss…

A family member of Nabi (SAW), Hamnah RA was married to Mus’ab ibn Umair (RA) who was one of the his most devoted companions. And as the story goes, His mother, Khunas bint Malik was extremely wealthy to the point of giving him the most luxurious lifestyle…

The Prophet SAW commented on this long after prophethood, when he said: “I never saw in Makkah anyone who was better looking, or who had better garments or more refined comforts than Mus’ab ibn Umair.”

Yet when he embraced Islam, his mother tried hard to persuade him to rescind his faith and go back to old pagan beliefs, but he adamantly refused. She stopped giving him anything, but he did not care for such luxuries. He remained one of the Prophet’s SAW most faithful companions.
Hamnah (RA) gave him a daughter named Zaynab.
When the Prophet (peace be upon him) and his companions immigrated to Madinah, Hamnah RA and her husband were among the early immigrants, as were the rest of her Muslim family. They were all devoted servants of Islam. The Quraysh, the people of Makkah, launched several attacks on Madinah to try to subdue the newly established Muslim state. Hamnah was one of the blessed women who went with the Muslim army to nurse the wounded and give water to the thirsty.
In the Battle of Uhud, the Muslims suffered a heavy defeat, with 70 of their people killed. She was with the army, but she was not aware who were killed. She saw the Prophet soon after the battle and he told her to endure her loss with patience.

She asked him whom he meant.

His reply: “Your maternal uncle, Hamzah.”

She said: “To God we all belong and to Him shall we all return. May God forgive him and bestow mercy on him. He is blessed as a martyr in heaven.”

The Prophet (SAW) again told her to bear her loss with patience.
When she asked him whom he meant, he replied: “Your brother Abdullah.”

She repeated what she said about her uncle.

Yet the Prophet (SAW) told her of another loss, and on her enquiry he mentioned her husband, Mus’ab ibn Umair.

This time, she screamed with grief, saying: “Woe is me! Oh, for my grief!”

The Prophet (SAW) upon this, commented: “A husband has a unique position with his wife no one else can fill.”

The Prophet (SAW) asked her afterwards why she panicked.
She said: “Messenger of God, SAW, I remembered that his children are now orphaned and I panicked.”

And who would blame her? It was a loss that was unparalleled. Her kids were still young as Mus’ab was probably about only 35 when he was martyred. The Prophet (SAW) prayed for her and them, mentioning in his prayer that God may grace them with His kindness and give them generously.

Hamnah RA later married Talhah ibn Ubaydillah RA, one of the ten companions of the Prophet (SAW) whom he favored with glad tidings of Jannah.

What was noted about him was that Talhah RA treated his stepchildren most kindly. Of course, he too was one of the beloved companions of the Prophet (SAW). 

And I found the story simply amazing because of course, I did hope that one day I wish that I too will hold that elevated rank where many would smile back and remember me too with so much of admiration.

“You do have some big shoes to fill,” Ummi said again, winking at me me now. “But I’m sure you’ll manage to.”

I shook my head. I wasn’t aspiring for that. It wasn’t about an insecurity but I knew very well that a husband will always hold a special place with his wife and I didn’t resent it at all.

”I’m not too sure…” I said softly. 

“You’re a special boy,” she murmured, nodding as she looked ahead. “Always have been. So sincere. You have something about you that draws people to you and I know I can’t give myself credit, but you have an amazing gift and I’m so glad that your Quran put you on track and you finally found your calling…”

It took a long time but even in my darkest hour, all I had to do was remember the moments when I had been inspired by the words of the Quran. His words. When I was anchored by its weight. When I was awakened to the reality of the one verse that always humbled me and brought me back down to earth.

It was the one thing I really cherished what my father had drilled into me… the pains of a parent for their child are often underrated. Every bit of sweat and pain was never forgotten- how he persisted with me through the grueling years that it took to become a Hafidh…. It was my greatest accomplishment yet… even more than the recent few years that had passed me by.

It was a moment when everything within me had come to a halt. When the chase had stopped. When reality was brought to the fore.

Has the time not come for those who have believed that their hearts should become humbly submissive at the remembrance of Allah and what has come down of the truth? (Quran – 57:16)

Indeed, the chase had to end. We continue on the pursuit of this life but we will never truly understand our purpose unless we open our eyes and realize that there has to be an end. A halt. A stop for chase and an awakening to what is really important.

And for me, the time had come. In fact, it was long overdue.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered as I held onto her. “Your father too, you know.”

I smiled. My father. He truly was one of a kind. It had taken years but to live up to his expectations and after so long it was like what I had been chasing had finally been sought. Somehow, through this fulfilment I had been released.

And it was so strange but my parents were stark opposites. Where my mother had always been warm and cajoling, my father had a streak of rigidity that pierced straight through the rebelliousness of my youth. It was the reason my mother had sent me away to Egypt, but also the reason why I had come back; so far from where I had strayed in my youth. 

Ummi was looking ahead and it seemed out of nowhere a smile suddenly dawned on her face, and as I followed her gaze, I already knew why.

“We’ll talk later,” she said softly. “For now, I think someone special is waiting for you.” 

I looked over to her and immediately smiled, because it was just natural for my heart to contract slightly as I saw her.

And I could hardly believe that it was my wife because in just a day almost everything had changed. The thing was that only when I had come back to hear that Khawlah was interested in the house, only then did I realize that there might still be hope.

And of course, the past feelings were far-fetched and ill-based but how amazing was it that the high that came with a new and Halaal love had somehow surpassed it all?

That was why when I left my mother for that moment, I knew that there was only one thing that I could say for sure. Of course, why not make her happy? I had gotten everything I had wanted anyway. 

”Don’t worry, Ums,” I assured her. “The topic is closed. You won’t have to worry about us going far away. I’m  going to ask her what she wants. Whatever Khawlah wants to do from here, I’m okay with…”

My mother smiled in immense relief and I knew that for now, I had fulfilled her request and put her mind at ease. And as Khawlah waved to my mother from where she was and I walked over to the entrance of the front garden, the look on her face took me slightly aback.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, pausing to look at her anxious face. “You look worried. Where’s Khadijah?”

She looked back at me but gave a small smile. It was enough to erase my fears.

”I have a question for you.”

I grinned, relieved that nothing major had happened to upset her.

“You have a question for me?!” I asked, a little amused as I tried to lighten the mood.

“I’m serious, Khalid,” she said quietly, her smile fading. “It’s something that’s been on my mind…”

”Okay, okay,” I conceded, reaching for her hand. “I’m serious too. What’s up, lovely?”

She took a deep breath and averted her gaze.

”I’m thinking of inviting Hannah. Tonight.”

We had spoken about Hannah the night before. We had spoken about a lot the night before. About life. About our childhood. Even about Aadam. The whispers shared and the dreams that had been shattered. The Duaas that I had made for her and how she had spoken to Allah about me. The ambitions that we both had and the plan that Allah had that we could still not conceive…

It was an amazing adventure that had just  begun for us. A gift that Allah had sent through His mercy. My best friend and the girl I had come to love with all my heart…

“Hmmm,” I replied, pulling at my beard. That was a tough one. “And her mother?”

“I would have,” she answered, “but Hannah says that she’s abroad. Chasing some rich old guy, she says. I don’t know if she’ll ever change but I do make Duaa for Hannah’s sake, that she does. She could really use some support and her mothers sanity…”

It was a lot to digest.

“Wow,” I said quietly, my mind a little overwhelmed at her at that moment. After everything she had been through… everything that woman had put her through… she was really something to even consider it.

Khawlah’s strength and resilience stood out now more than ever. It was the thing that I had always admired and loved about her.

”Listen Khawlah,” I said after a few seconds. “You know you don’t have to? They’re not exactly family…”

”I’d grown to like Hannah,” she said quietly. “Even after everything she had done. Aadam had encouraged treating her well. It’s not her fault that her life was a little messed up. Maybe she made some bad choices. Maybe she just didn’t know what she was getting herself into…”

I nodded. Of course. 

”It’s completely your call,” I said, giving her a small smile. I wasn’t even sure if she had heard me. Her mind was still busy as I watched her… so deep in thought.

“I just don’t understand,” she finally said, glancing at me. “When Aunty Nas was married to my father, he gave her everything… but she still wasn’t happy. How much more do you have to have to be satisfied?”

To me, it was quite simple. 

”It’s not about that,” I said quietly. “The world is designed in such a way that even if you’re drowning in millions, your only source of completion can ever be Him. Maybe she just never had that…”

”You’re right,” she replied softly, her expression immediately easing as she reached for my hand with a smile. “And that was always what they were missing. I’m so glad that Hannah is finally finding her way…”

”And maybe you were the one who showed it to her?” I suggested, knowing well that my wife had the ability to shift even the most rigid of hearts. 

”I don’t know,” she said softly, shaking her head in disagreement. “I just wonder… How some people go through so much, you know? So many trials and hardships… and they have to go endure so, so much… and yet there seems to be no relief… she lost so much. Her home, her daughter, her mother, her dignity…”

I watched her expression change a she spoke, a little taken aback at how personally she was taking this. Her striking features were riddled with worry as she said it, almost as if she was waiting for some ease from this constant pain. Almost as if she was waiting for someone to offer her some relief…

And I already knew her so well that I knew that I had to be the one to remind her of what Allah’s plan is, and always will be.

“That’s the arrangement that Allah’s made with her, right love?” I reminded her softly as her eyes searched mine for some sort of hope. Something to cling onto. “It just so happens that sometimes our Rabb makes the most spectacular arrangements for us to attain Jannah. Nothing… and I mean nothing at all,  goes undetected, don’t you worry…”

She smiled, and it was as if all the burdens that she had held within her heart were completely relieved. Tests and trials were indeed a favour for the believer…

”I truly do hope that she finds exactly what she’s been looking for all this time,” I said quietly.

And as she continued to smile at me as if every weight had been lifted from her heavy shoulders for that moment, it was such a rare and amazing moment that we shared right then and I so badly wanted to savor. And even though all these years had gone by, there was still a part of me that existed within her, and a part of her that lived in me. There was so much that I had still yet to say but it just so happened that at that instant a slightly high-pitched voice sounded from just outside the gate and my wife’s head whipped around in shock, almost as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

Her eyes widened as I cocked my head to one side knowingly.

”Wait,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “Don’t tell me. It’s Nusaybah, right?”

She smiled in agreement, because I knew that there was only one answer and I was so happy that her friend had made it for our big day. Of course, it was the one thing she had mentioned to me about Nusaybah. That she really wanted her to be here and had missed her so much. 

And of course I had to let her go because I knew that her friend being here would be the highlight of the day..

Yes. I would let her be. We had our whole lives ahead of us. There was so much I had been given… so much I didn’t anticipate that had surprised me, but the rule of this world was not that everything would go exactly according to our plan…

The thing is, nothing in nature lives for itself. Rivers don’t drink their own water. Trees don’t eat their own fruit. The sun doesn’t shine for itself. Even the flower does not bloom for itself.

Every system has its course. Every day will end. Every sunrise will end with a sunset. Lives may cease. Fears may overwhelm us. Losses may crush us. But after it all, after the pieces of our hearts have shattered, the One who made that very heart will heal it again.

Nature’s rule is that we live for each other too. We love each other. We share with each other. We hang onto hopes for each other too. When we give and love for the sake of Allah, everything in life takes on a different meaning. We smile. We bear… We sacrifice. That’s what real love was. 

Verily, the lover

submits to his beloved.

When a person falls in love

with someone,

submission and obedience

to the beloved becomes his habit

and second nature.

Disobedience to the beloved

becomes as

hard as is unwilling obedience

to one whom one does not love.’

When you love Allah, His obedience becomes the only thing that matters. When you love Allah, you see His hand in everything that comes through for you.  When you love Allah, you see provisions rising from sources you never imagined. 

Whoever is with Allah, his weakness will not harm him, and whoever is distant from Allah, his strength will never benefit him.

I do not know the measure of time or the rate at which it flowed past me. I don’t understand the weight of a moment or the duration of a year. All I know and can comprehend of the mathematics of a life that Allah had blessed me with, were the times that I’ve seen a miracle come through for me countless times in His Divine plan. It was extreme expectation, but for Allah, indeed, there is nothing that is impossible.

Expecting the best from Allah is the secret ingredient to happiness. 

So, I ask…

”What then are your thoughts about the Lord of the worlds?” (Quran 37:87)

 

---

Apologies for my delayed post… I do hope I can manage to pen one more future post at least but my weeks have been crazy…

Okay, that said, will I be forgiven if I don’t post again?  *ducks*

Much Love 

A xx

P.S. please tolerate me a little longer and make special Duaa for me in these big days.

 

Sayyiduna Ali رضي الله عنه narrates: Nabee صلى الله عليه وسلم said regarding Muharram:(as part of a lengthy hadith)

“In it there is a day that Allah accepted the taubah (repentance) of a people, and in which He accepts the repentance of other people.”

(Tirmidhi 741)

Haafiz Ibnu Rajab Hambali (رحمه الله تعالى) has quoted many statements that support the fact that this day refers to the day of ‘Aashuraa. He thereafter says: “Rasulullah (صلى الله عليه وسلم) saying ‘He will forgive others on this day’ is an encouragement for people to once again make sincere taubah on the day of ‘Aashuraa. This statement also gives hope that Allah Ta‘ala will accept the taubah of the one who repents from his sins, just as He had forgiven the previous nation.”
(Lataaiful Ma‘aarif pg. 113 – 115)

Tolerance – a beautiful Sunnah 

Allah Taa’ala loves tolerance.
Sayyiduna Abdullah bin Abbas RA narrates that Nabi SAW said to the
leader of the Abdul Qays tribe: “You possess two traits that are
beloved to Allah, tolerance and deliberation (non – impulsive).”
Sahih Muslim Vol 1 Pg 35

How easy to practice …

#revivetheSunnahofHonouringElders

#revivetheSunnahofGiving

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

#revivetheSunnahDuaa

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

 

 

 

Eternal Love

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

“I don’t know how it happened,” I was whimpering, blinking almost belligerently at Aadam as I sniffed. I could just imagine my eyes being all puffy and my nose all blotchy and red. It was definitely not the most romantic moment…

“I’m usually so on time and I can’t believe that I didn’t even notice-“

“Hey hey hey,” Aadam said softly, pulling me into a comforting embrace while I sobbed into his chest.

He smelt all fresh and aftershave-ish and his familiarity just made me more emotional. I wasn’t even sure why I was crying. Hormones were definitely getting the better of me and the anxiety was so severe that I felt like I could barely breathe.

“I’m s-so sorryyyy…” I bawled into his t-shirt neckline as I thought of how much more complicated this would make things.

“For what?” Aadam said, releasing me and peering at me curiously. I could see that he was trying hard not to grin. “You act as if you’re in control here, love. I can see that you’re not ready for this and I feel like such scum for feeling excited…”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Please don’t. Its not that. I’m scared because of what could happen. I’m scared that everything won’t be okay…”

Aadam swallowed and looked a bit nervous as I said it. I’m sure he was worried about the same thing. Or maybe not. At that stage I couldn’t tell what he was thinking…

“Don’t worry about that,” he said softly. “Did you do a test?”

I shook my head.

“Don’t you think we’re jumping the gun?” He murmured as he looked at me seriously. “Personally, a baby… Khawlah… yours and my own little bundle of happiness. The boys would be so excited. My mum would be begging for a girl. And I’d be over the moon, yeah…”

“Really?” I asked, breathing in shakily as I tried to stop the tears. What was happening to me?

“But there’s only one way to really find out, right…?” He concluded. “And I honestly don’t think I can wait so I’m calling the pharmacy to deliver a test…”

I nodded numbly as he picked up the phone and arranged the delivery for later that evening. I could feel my heart rate slowing down as I tried to pacify myself. All I could think of was what if there was something wrong? What if the baby wasn’t normal? What if those chemicals and foreign bodies interfered with the baby’s development and everything wasn’t okay?

I lay in bed later that night with a knot (amongst other things) in my tummy and much on my mind. Aadam had waited anxiously outside the bathroom on a chair when I did the test, and as I expected, two solid lines appeared almost a minute after I stepped out. His face was glowing with happiness as he saw it, and I couldn’t help but feel like such a crappy person for being less than excited. 

“I’m ecstatic,” he said, his hand reaching out for mine under the blanket. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe that after everything… I’m still going to be a father…”

I breathed in deeply and swallowed. Somehow I just couldn’t feel his excitement.

”Aren’t you worried?” I asked, looking up into the dark as I said it. “Don’t you remember what Uncle Siraj was saying?”

”Khawlah,” Aadam said softly. “Doctors don’t  know everything. A rotten guy like me… after everything I’ve done and said… and Allah chose to still forgive me and give me this beautiful gift… it’s like a little piece of Jannah right here on earth…”

I breathed in as he said it, not really understanding how all this anxiety and uncertainty could ever be a good thing. The truth was that we do so much of wrong in this life that we don’t deserve the mercy. If we were taken to task for everything we did… for every sin our bodies committed… we would have probably been paralyzed.

So many bounties… if we have to look around at them, we could never count…

I breathed in deeply, trying to let everything, including my unruly tummy, settle. It was a good thing. A blessing. Besides the fact that Nusaybah would probably chew my ears off with her twenty-one questions and theories… a baby was an amazing gift…

”Can you see this meager width of my hand?” He said softly, cutting into my thoughts as I looked at his outstretched hand in the semi-dark as he flattened it out. His fingers seemed longer and leaner now that he had lost a little weight. 

”Hmmmm,” I murmured, still feeling overwhelmed as he breathed audibly next to me. 

”Just this portion of land in Jannah,” he said quietly. “I remember Maulana saying that a minute piece of land of this size in eternal Jannah, sweets… well, I don’t know if you can ever imagine it, but this very portion in Paradise holds even more treasures than the entire universe and everything within it…”

I breathed in and closed my eyes as he said it, trying to picture it as I comprehended. It was impossible. Why does it happen that as we grow up, that we seem so much more occupied with this world, and so much further away from the hereafter, when in reality… we should be feeling closer to it all? Somehow, as a young girl, when Khalid would say it, it seemed so much easier. So much more real… beautiful… majestic… 

”Picture Jannah,” he would say to me. “Whenever you feel sad, Khawlah, just picture it!”

His voice would get excited as he continued. his eyes would dance away as he jumped up on a nearby rock and stretch out his hands.

“In Jannah, even the person in the lowest stage, Khawlah … they’ll get a whole palace made of a see-through pearl… and each palace will have seventy thousand apartments with each apartment having seventy thousand doors… and at each door Khawlah… there will be seventy thousand angels just to make Salaam to them!”

And of course, despite the mind-boggling numbers, I would try and picture these thousands of mini abodes that would be housing me and whoever I desired and my mind would come alive as I’d comfort myself with the knowledge that my mother was right there, in one of those spectacular glass houses, waiting for me to come and join her one day.. 

“I feel like I’m flying,” Aadam said quietly, squeezing my hand and cutting into my thoughts. “And it just gives me so much of hope because when we truly understand what Allah can do, there’s nothing in the world that is impossible. If we truly understood His beauty and His vastness, we’d be swept of our feet. It’s unparalleled….”

He was right. We stress and we worry and we let the burdens of life overwhelm us when there truly is only one solution to it all. Turn to Allah. Turn to Allah. He’s constantly calling and beckoning to us. His signs are all over the universe. He has no limit to His treasure. Sometimes, even in the worst of times, all it takes is one sincere person to make Taubah and Allah alleviates the burdens of the entire Ummah…

“I know this wasn’t in the plan,” he continued softly. “But it’s happened and it’s amazing and I love this feeling. I’m on cloud nine. Everything is Him. In His control. By Him. Our Hearts. Our souls…. It just makes me want to surrender to Him. Leave it to Him. There’s no grief and no sadness for a believer. I love you so much Khawlah and I just have this feeling that Allah is going to take care of it all….”

Trust. Faith. Tawakkul. If only I could have that. I knew what he was saying… but I still wanted to question him. I wanted so badly to ask him, what if it wasn’t? I wanted to argue and ask him how he knew. I wanted to question everything that happened so far, but I could already hear his audible breathing pattern alter and as he drifted into slumber I let it go for then, not knowing that tomorrow would hold a challenge of its own where I’d probably never get to know his answer to everything I was aching to know…

And  of course, after that chat, as I felt myself drifting off, the dreams that I had that night were absolutely unimaginable. I felt like I was living in a peaceful place of serenity and whiteness… Gardens and beauty… and as my eyes shot open suddenly at the sound of the city birds lightly teetering, I squinted at the clock in confusion, not quite comprehending that Aadam had missed his Tahajjud for the first time in months. The fact that there was a strange sound coming from somewhere in the room made it more confusing, and as I got up with a frown, I couldn’t help but wonder what it was. 

As far as I knew, my mother-in-law wasn’t here. It couldn’t be her smoothie machine. Not at this insane hour. The more I moved out from the room the further the noise sounded. It was a rhythmic sound, like a malfunctioning vent or fan. As I walked down the hallway, amidst the darkness that was slowly finding its way out, the sound seemed to get softer. It was only then that I realized that the sound was coming from the bedroom. Right next to me. That horrible noise wasn’t any type of drill or machinery. It was the sound of Aadam’s breathing. 

That was the day, precisely 12 hours before I sat at his side with a heavy heart, when Aadam suffered the stroke. His entire left side was paralyzed and as we attempted with every ounce of us to keep him afloat, he stayed semi-conscious and smiled, but our hearts would ache every minute he lay there, not being able to say what he really wanted to. I sat there with my head in my hands as we watched him that morning, waiting for some sign of progress, but as our heavy hearts felt it’s weight, we found none…

And yes, we wondered how. Why, despite everything he was doing and the chemo and radiation… how this tumour had still managed to break him. How it had got to the extent that now a stroke had been the result of its progression. I couldn’t make sense of it. I had thought he was on a slow route to better health. I had had hope. Aadam was looking better. Just the day before he was talking like a man who was on the way to recovery. Just a few hours ago, he had sounded so alive. Full of life. Ready to take on the world..

But the plan that we had was different to the one that was written. At that precise moment, as we all gathered together around him, Rubeena’s gentle hand grasped my shoulder from behind and pulled me back, watching me closely as she handed me the letter that would provide some insight to the little question marks that were floating around in my mind. 

”Adam asked me to give this to you before the end of today,” she whispered quietly. “I think it’s about time…”

The sound of Ahmed’s reading could be heard in the background. People were sniffing. Tearing. My mother-in-law was in shock. Abba was sitting outside the room in limbo. The boys too were silent, as they waited in the lounge. 

I looked up at Rubeena in confusion as she watched me, the tears streaming down her face as she dabbed her eyes. It was like he knew. He knew and he needed to have his day… this last piece of broken magic before everything spiraled somewhat out of our control…

My Love,

It’s late at night and I’m struggling to find the words to tell you exactly what’s on my mind. In truth, I don’t even know how to say what I need to. 

It’s just a few day’s since I completed the letters. All 365 of them. After you told me about your mothers letter, well, I kind of wanted to follow in her footsteps. I’m sure Rubeena’s hands are sore (sorry, sis, I owe you big time), but I just needed to compose this one more. I just wanted one final chance. I wanted to find the eternal words to remind you every day that there was once this crazy guy that you fell in love with and loved you to bits too…

And yeah, I know you might think that I’m being unusually sentimental. I could tell you that I love you and that I’ve never met anyone like you and that I wish we had our entire lives together, but it still wouldn’t summarize the essence of what you really mean to me. I mean, how do I say goodbye to the person who means more to me than words could ever describe? How do I even put together the words that I need to express how deeply I’m indebted to you? 

And so, with much on my mind and a slightly heavy heart… I pen this letter not just to say goodbye, my love…. but to say thank you.

Thank you for putting up with this grumpy old sod. Thank you for picking up my dirty socks. For fetching my coffee when I was being lazy. For cleaning up the puke when it was all over the white linen (I know it took forever, but it just made me love you more). Thank you for the unlimited supply of Dettol. And thank you for still saying I love you back when my breath was honking (I could smell it too.) It made my night.

Okay, I’m kidding. (not really…) but on a more serious note… Thank you for being there for me, okay? 

Thank you for your unwavering patience. For giving me courage. For lifting me up when I felt like I was on the verge of breaking down. Thank you for being my rock. My soldier. My warrior. For looking out for me. For reminding me that there would be better days. For giving me something to hold onto when I thought I was never going to make it through. For reminding me that there was a Greater Power out there Who knows every whisper within the crevices of my aching heart. For reminding that despite my sins I was still able to find a light in His love. For bringing me closer to the One who knows me inside and out…

Thank you so much for helping me to love Allah. And thank you, beautiful, for giving me the best worldly gift that a guy could have. A little piece of Jannah that I know you’ll raise to be Allah-fearing and pious and just like his or her gorgeous mother. I know you’re probably wondering how it all happened despite what Uncle Siraj had said, and that’s another story altogether that I’ll leave Siraj to explain to you guys in a bit, since it’s way past my bedtime…

Yours was a type of love that took me by surprise. A type that made me love you, not for what you could give me, but for what you are. Through that love, I turned to Him. I sought Him, not just for now, but for all eternity.

Thank you for giving me that type of Eternal Love. May the Almighty bless you with a happiness that’s greater than any moment I spent with you…

I love you more than you’ll ever know. Please just know that I am and will be forever indebted to you…

---

Dear readers, 

Just a reminder, especially in these times of craziness to make abundant istighfaar and try and bring more Sunnah into our lives. Let’s keep the miswaak available for frequent use, InshaAllah 

May Allah alleviate all the trials of the Ummah 

Much Love, 

A xx

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

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

Dua on the first night of Rajab is readily accepted by Allah.

Imam Shafi’i RA has stated: “I have heard that duaas are accepted

by Almighty Allah on five nights:

The night of Jumu’ah

The nights of the two ‘Eids

The first night of Rajab

The middle (15th) night of Sha’ban

Allah accept our efforts and Duaas.

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

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

Barren Hearts

 

Bismihi Ta’ala

Zuleikha

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just can’t believe it…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”Zuleikha, can I ask you something?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so is yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

”I’m so happy for you guys.”

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

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

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

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

”Zuleikha.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”What on earth are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

---

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

 

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

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

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

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal

 

 

Finding Courage

 

Bismihi Ta’ala

Khawlah

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Drink this.”

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

He studied the glass carefully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I nodded.

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

Aadam cocked his head and looked at me pensively.

“Please do go on,” he said innocently.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Dearest Readers 

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

Duaas always needed 

Much Love

A xx

Duaa at the onset of Rajab, do recite.

Don’t forget our Sunnah Revival!

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

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

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

#revivetheSunnahofMiswaak 

#revivetheSunnahofAkhlaaq 

#revivetheSunnahofKinship

#revivetheSunnahofhonouringguests

 

#revivetheSunnahofdrinkingwater 

#revivetheSunnahofeating 

#revivetheSunnahDuaas

Twitter: @ajourneyjournal