Love.

Love. The kind through which one first enters the heart of another. Pure, fresh, unblemished. The kind that emerges with the exchange of that very first glance. The kind that, for a moment, dissolves everything else into oblivion, and engulfs two souls in a universe of their own. In that single moment, all that two hearts seek and yearn to offer transpires between them: fidelity, friendship, acceptance, comfort, relief, loyalty, eternal support and companionship. This single moment is the culmination of all that a mortal heart desires from a mortal being. But it is a feeling that is as fleeting as its existence: one that never returns after it has passed.

Once pure love makes its visit, it is gradually worn down by the weight of expectations, selfishness, impatience, untempered words, betrayals big and small, unbridled ego, deliberate injury and ingratitude.

Ah… pure love leaves behind such a shadow of itself, that the heart exhausts itself for a lifetime seeking just one more moment of that unblemished love that pumped life through its every vein.

Why do we feel what we do? Why do these bonds come into being? Why do they take root where nothing was meant to grow? How will they end up if they are nothing like the way they began? Why do they begin if all that will remain is their end?PC @diegoph

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4 Years a Mom: My Memoir on Motherhood

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It’s my son’s 4th birthday today – four years since the mum in me was born. Four years since I experienced water breaking for the first time at 4 am in the morning, four years since I knew what it meant to be swooning in death-like pain to be able to bring new life into the world. Four years since my heart has been transformed to contain a dweller who will forever be irreplaceable.

Don’t be deceived by the first paragraph though, this isn’t going to be one of those mushy motherly dedications or monologues about how fantastic motherhood is. I was (am) the kind of mother who never ‘enjoyed’ being pregnant and definitely never loved or ‘missed’ breastfeeding. However, my natural feelings towards these phenomena are completely separate from my value and gratitude for them – having become a mother, I can fully comprehend what it can mean to be pregnant for those who want to have children but haven’t been able to yet, and how truly enjoyable or difficult different parts of motherhood can be for different mothers depending on their personalities and circumstances.

Six months after my son was born, I’d written this reflection on motherhood; but last month I was going through some old photographs of my son and I, and since then I’ve been meaning to share something. With every picture that I browsed through, I realized it was but a momentary capture of the one role that singularly dominated the past 4 years of my life. My infant son’s fingers wrapped around mine, 1-month old him looking up at the colorful bees in his musical mobile, the first videos of him laughing or excitedly flexing his legs on the bed, pictures of him in his high chair enjoying his apple and oats and smearing his baby books with food, happy selfies of us where we both managed to shower and get changed before dad got home, moments of him observing bees and flowers in the garden or splashing in the bath tub, videos of him simmering with fever in my lap and narrating hilarious fever-induced stories, or him engrossed in discovering processes in the kitchen or playing alone with his cars under the table in the garden, him flipping through the books we’d read everyday and the stories he’d ask for on loop, pictures of him relishing his favorite home-made cookies or cupcakes or watching his favorite cartoons: a thousand moments and more of just me and him; him in my care and me by his side.

I couldn’t believe I’d been the one watching, nourishing, teaching, disciplining, supporting, observing, encouraging, loving, caring and constantly being there for another human being in all those moments. And all those pictures were but a few of our moments together that happened to be captured by a camera: I’d been doing this continuously for four, full years. In that instance, my mind reeled thinking of the decades and millions and millions of moments that mothers throughout time have spent dedicating their entire existence to another, like it is the most ordinary thing to do. I realized that day that it must be the most natural thing to do, but it definitely is one of the most extraordinary things to do too.  I hadn’t realized just how much of my inner potential this one role was capable of extracting and bringing forth. I didn’t realize how far being dedicated to the nurturing of another soul could go in nourishing and growing my own. I hadn’t realized how my child was shaping who I am as much as I was molding him. As mundane, monotonous, restricting and often miserable as motherhood had been, I hadn’t realized what a spectacular sight it would be to behold someday.

Today when I look in the mirror, I see wrinkles and eye bags and uneven skin tone and blemishes that I didn’t have four years ago. I realize a lot of it is probably going to stay too and I try (very) hard to embrace that fact. But I also see the soul and inner strength I never had four years ago. My body has aged, but I have simultaneously grown and matured and evolved in so many wonderful ways. My time was constantly sacrificed and given away, but I was unknowingly creating, building and achieving so much.

There have been many dark days. Days I’m certain will never be over till I am no longer a mother. Days of frustration, loneliness, anger at not knowing how to handle yourself and your child, days of exhaustion having to do so much by yourself, feelings of being trapped for eternity with human beings less than half your real and mental age, days when every bone and muscle and nerve in your body is throbbing in pain and your eyes well up with tears that you’ve managed to hold back for far too long, days when people pass the kind of inconsiderate remarks that knock the words out of even the most self-assured mothers, days when everything you’ve done or have been doing is belittled to the point where you just want to abandon everything and run away, days when you feel like not a second of being a mother was or ever will be worth it. I’ve been through all of these days, every single mother has. They are as real and as existent as the good days, don’t let anyone fool you into believing otherwise. It is because of days like these that I’ve also realized that no one deserves your all and your best all the time.

Being a devoted mother does not mean destroying your own self. Being a good mother does not mean giving in to your child’s, husband’s, in-laws’ or society’s every demand and expectation of what you ‘should’ be doing as a mother. Being a perfect mother does not mean packing Instagram-worthy lunches everyday, doing daily Pinterest crafts, tracking and achieving every Baby Centre milestone by the millisecond and trying to legitimize your bouts of guilt and insecurity because your child isn’t ‘performing’ as well as your friend’s. Being a loving mother does not mean never, ever leaving your child in someone else’s care so you can take a break with your friends or go out on a date with your husband or do something you love for a little while. Being a dedicated mother does not mean carrying your child on your hip all day and doing every little thing for them because teaching them to be independent requires more patience and effort and then conveniently blaming your lack of me-time on your all-consuming children. Being a caring mother does not mean being the only parent who wakes up in the middle of the night to tend to the children or cater to their every need with no spousal support despite their father being present. Being a great mother doesn’t mean taking the entire world’s burden on your shoulders and not asking for the help or support that is either within your reach or within your rights. Let me assure you, you’ll be getting no special awards or recognition for any of this. You’ll only be in for some major resentment once everyone goes on to live the lives they were meant to; while you’re left with nothing but hopefully good memories of how every drop of your blood, sweat, tears and time was spent in raising your children who don’t seem to even remember to call you, and all those in-laws and people who dictated what you did as a mother couldn’t care less that your body, mind and soul are broken and constantly hurting after years of ‘perfect’ mothering.

Being senseless and sacrificial are not the same thing, though it’s very easy to confuse the two as a mother. Yes, easier said than done, yes not everyone’s circumstances are the same; but no, everyone has the ability to choose to stand up for themselves. Everyone has the ability to choose to give value to themselves. Everyone has the ability to choose to ignore other people’s opinions. Everyone has the ability to choose to make healthy, balanced lifestyle choices. Everyone has the ability to choose to seek the physical, mental, emotional or other help they need. Everyone has the ability to choose to live a life with some semblance of structure, boundaries and routine that may gradually but eventually lead to you being a good mother while also being good to yourself. The only difference is that making and sticking to that choice will be relatively harder or easier, depending on your circumstances.

And if there’s one thing I’ve learnt for sure in these four years, it is that making the choice to love and take care of yourself while you love and care for your children, will make all the difference when you have no one but yourself to tend to.

Truths About Marriage I’d Like You to Know

Man and woman holding hands at a table

“Zayn, I need to talk to you.”

When a close friend who’s just been married or is deciding to texts me those words, I fill equally with a sense of understanding and dread. After letting her know an approximate time of when my son will choose to take his nap that afternoon so we can talk, I go about getting things done and thinking of the girl I’m going to be listening to soon. I think of everything I know of her, and everything she’s told me about the person she’s chosen or may be choosing to spend the rest of her life with. Then I mentally kick myself for having unwittingly assumed the role of marriage advisor and wonder at what exact point in time I became one.

How do I advise someone about what marriage is going to be like or what to think of/do about/how to navigate through a usual/unusual marital situation, when I am barely 6 years old in marriage, will never really know the minutest details of their sticky situation (like the weather that day, if there were any changes in the flavor of their usual breakfast drink, which angle the MIL’s eyes were positioned at that exact moment to better determine her intentions, if his colleague had finally hit the wrong nerve, etc.) and who they and their husbands really become within the four walls of their house?

I thought about what could be some general and important truths about marriage – things most people don’t (want to) talk about and too many people should have known before they made the leap. I  decided to write down my most profound personal realizations based on everything I’ve experienced, witnessed, been confided in about and have understood in these almost 6 years. For the ones I love and the ones I may never know. I’ll start with the very first thing I’d like you to know about marriage:

  1. There will never, ever be a marriage like yours.

    Because there will never be another you and another him to ever exist. This is the greatest and most beautiful truth about marriage. No one will ever be able to forge or fully comprehend the exact bond you share because your marriage, like every single marriage out there (how ironic), is a unique bond of two unique people. That’s why it’s futile to measure your marriage against someone else’s, in fact you can’t even compare your current marriage to a past marriage you may have had because the most fundamental element of any marriage, the spouse, is different. And the worst thing you could do is compare your marriage to the imaginary one you’ve created in your head with that person “you could’ve/would’ve been with if not for…” because, okay this may be tough to get but it’s the truth, you have no idea who you will really turn out to be with that someone and how your marriage will really turn out till you’re married to them.

    Yet, despite this, you will go through a range of typical, routine problems couples all over the world have to deal with, regardless of who you and your spouse are.

    The tough part is when you face those excruciating situations unique to your marriage that you’ll have to battle through alone. Times when no one will understand why you aren’t as happy as you should be and what you’re making a fuss or constantly fighting about. And it is okay in these times to be broken, because either you know something you can never say out loud, or you have an inside view of reality no one will ever see, or believe. These are the real trying times, the times where you will find no solace, no respite, no solution, no relief and no recovery from except through reliance on the only One except you who understands.

  2. You will never truly know a person till you are married to them.

    Yep, it does get worse than that: you will never truly know who you are till you get married (I hate to say ‘wait and watch’, I really do).

    Yes, even if you’ve been dating from the hospital nursery, living day in and day out with someone in a relationship where both parties have legal rights and can be held legally, morally and socially liable is a totally. different. ball game. Everyone’s true self only comes out under this triple-filter test. Sometimes he will become a burden you wish you could break free from with no consequences, and sometimes you will become the last person he wants to be with. There will be days when you will not be able to look at your own self in the mirror, and days when you will wonder if you even recognize the person lying next to you.

    Yet, even so… the incredible truth also is, that you will never know what you’re capable of becoming and the brilliant transformation you’re capable of inspiring in someone’s life, till you are married.

    Patience and perseverance are as immutable as gravity: they have the same result, wherever they are applied. There’s powerful positive transformation happening every time there is friction followed by resolution, unfortunately we just don’t get to see it right then (just like so many obvious things we get blind to whenever there’s friction). And always, always remember: the transformation’s happening both ways. Regardless of who is truly wrong or right, every time there is friction and there is perseverance in the face of it, both spouses grow by leaps and bounds. If you  were right and you forgave, you become more magnanimous than you were. If you were wrong and you accepted, you’ve given your ego another good blow and your marriage another solid brick. If he was right and he was gracious about it, your respect and love for him will shoot through the roof. If he was wrong and you didn’t go on about it, he will give you starry-eyed stares for not being an incarnation of his dad/mom in these situations.

  3. Marriage will NOT compensate for the fun you did not have.

    I don’t know if I should continue writing or draft my final will first because the moral police has set out to find me and finish me right about now (my dad might just be driving them). But I shall continue because I’d rather die making a point.

    You’ve heard it girls:
    “You can do everything you want, after you get married.”
    “Once you’re married your husband will take you wherever you want, but you can’t go now.”
    “Steer clear of boyfriends and wait to marry the right one – I promise you’ll have the greatest time of your life!”

    NO, YOU WILL NOT. You will not get to do “everything you want” when you do a pregnancy test one day and find two lines on the reader. You will not get to go “wherever you want” when your husband is away at work 10 hours a day, spends a total of 3 hours on the road and comes home wanting to just dive into bed. And, your husband may never end up being everything you imagined in that boyfriend you made sure you never had – no, this does not mean you should have a boyfriend before you’re married, it means just don’t come into marriage expecting any of this. If you’ve been fed this stuff, I want to honestly let you know that none of it is absolutely true.

    Your parents may understandably want to shelter you from anything that may cause you harm, and in the case of desi parents this includes the possibility of dying in a car crash if you roll down the car window without their permission. But I can perhaps say now that alot of children have been stopped from much more than they need to be, without being given any alternative source of enjoyment either. Alot of parents have stifled their children, especially their daughters, when it comes to allowing them the space and freedom to enjoy their lives, saying no to whatever they like just because they can. It is these same children who end up making ill-informed or hasty choices for marriage and then fill with regret, resentment and frustration when they aren’t met with the freedom and fulfillment they had always imagined (and were told) marriage would afford them.

    So if you’re a young adult, do what you enjoy or are passionate about (if it’s halal of course). Color your hair if you like, join that art class you’ve always been interested in even though your parents may prefer you focus on your grades, go for those hiking trips and crazy escapes in the middle of the semester, hang out with your friends and have great conversations and it’s okay to be back late sometimes. Apply to your dream university even if your parents may not believe in you/want you to go there just to know if you would’ve ever got in (and if you do they will most likely want you to go trust me), don’t constantly guilt yourself about ‘maybe’ upsetting your parents about every little thing. From what I’ve noticed repeatedly, parents forget and forgive much easier than we imagine and keep relaxing their rules with every new child as they grow in wisdom and realize they’ve been making a big deal of too many things.

  4. Your happiness depends on how honest you’ve been with yourself, above all else.

    I’m serious, before you even conjure the silhouette of your future husband in your mind’s eye, take a paper and pen and do your best to discover your own self first. Are you an extrovert or an introvert, or both? Do you really want an extrovert or an introvert, or both?  What are your inherent strengths? What have different people in your life consistently pointed out in you as a flaw? Have you ever given that flaw any thought or done something about it (for the record: it will be this flaw which we’ve always failed to acknowledge that will come out in its most vicious form after marriage)? What childhood wounds are festering inside you that may end up hurting your marriage or the person you’re married to? Are you ready to be more selfless, patient and sacrificing or are you just hormonal? Are you really okay with whatever his family is like as long as he fits your criteria of ideal husband (LIKE REALLY)? Are you really okay if he doesn’t have a well-paying job right now or would you rather start off well settled? What techniques of conflict resolution do you usually resort to, and what negative and positive patterns are you carrying in yourself from being exposed to your parents’ relationship? Are you aware and ready for the fact that every marriage will go through a test?

    Based on all of this (and many more similar questions), what kind of person do you really want, need and feel you can live with? And based on the answer to that, how close does the person you’re considering seem to being the one?

    Instead, we’re so busy trying to slim down to fit into that perfect bridal dress with exquisite sequins and choosing the correct font for the invitation card, that we don’t realize not having considered these questions will be the reason we’ll have a severe urge to burn that same dress or card one day, because we can’t stand the sight of our stupidity.

  5. There will never, ever be any valid reason to rush into marriage.

    Not for halal sex, not because you’re getting older, not because good guys are getting extinct, not because something is better than nothing, not because marriage halls are getting expensive, not because your younger cousins already have two kids, not because you’re dangerously close to being too mature for a woman and you may never ever find a man more mature than you, not because your beauty is fading, not because your khala thinks it’s time, not because it’s better before you get any fatter, not because someone wants to see you married before they die, not because you just want to finally be able to set your relationship status to atleast goddamn ‘engaged’ while your friends are putting up statuses about baby poop, not because it is your lucky year according to the Chinese calendar, not because he’s too cute to not be snatched away by someone else, not because you just have to buy and wear that stunning wedding dress, not because you have to honor some made-up promise to a cousin’s father the day you were born,  NOTHING.

    There is absolutely NO reason to rush into choosing who you will be spending the rest of your life with, 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, and for as long as which you can never legally enjoy the same sort of relationship with anyone else.

    You only get married for the first time once. You only lose (for lack of a better word) your virginity, your singlehood and leave your parents’ house as a first-time bride once in your entire life. You only entrust everything you are – your hopes, your dreams, your mind, your soul, your body, your fears, your ‘never married’ self to another person ONCE in your life. You will never have the power of this unbridled choice again.

    Think, ponder, consult people, consult God, consult loved ones, consult enemies (to identify what will make them happy about this marriage), consult children (they usually have the most innocent agendas “he’s great because he always comes with chocolates”), keep praying on it till your heart feels at peace either to go ahead or opt out.  Make sure you’ve done everything in your power to be as sure as you could have ever been.

  6. Great marriages exist.

    I know, I know, the previous 5 points may have made you seriously reconsider becoming a mosque matron/solo-travelling till you die a solitary death/being content baby-sitting other people’s children for the rest of your life, but yes, as much as all of them are true, the saving grace of the institute of marriage is that great marriages exist (just like the fact that there have been people who have awoken from a coma after 35 years).

    How do I know? No, my marriage is not great, it’s good, but I feel it getting there. I’ve seen people get there. I’ve personally witnessed couples who’ve made it, just as I’ve personally been made privy to many miserable marriages. And just like everything I’ve said so far to try and remove the sugar-coating glazed onto the image of marriage, I’ll tell you that great marriages take alot, A LOT of hard, crazy, mental, ridiculous, backbreaking work. And while also depending on who’s in it, a crazy long time to happen.

    What kind of work? Like controlling your eyeballs when you would have definitely rolled them (try imagining someone being absolutely absurd and then giving a benign, gracious smile), like sincerely responding with “you’re right, I am” when someone subtly/explicitly compares you to a useless sloth, like hearing “not today/now/this year/this month” to something you’ve really been looking forward to for a long time and saying “sure, fine.” (NOT “Sure. FINE.”), like choosing to be nursing your new child while your single friends are choosing which country to fly to next, like telling yourself “maybe he’ll try next time” when he’s never tried in ages, like apologizing even when you know you’re not wrong for the sake of sleeping in peace or so the kids see you happy, like accepting your fault without putting up a senseless fight every time, like choosing to continue being open and vulnerable after being hurt, like trusting your gut instincts about the good in the person you married and going on, like finding out your spouse found someone else attractive and forgiving them despite the deep heartache, like controlling the urge to fill your loneliness with temporary relationships when the going gets tough, like supporting your spouse when they’ve lost your only source of income and are unsure of where to go next, like greeting guests with a wide smile when you’ve cried your eyes out moments before, like putting your dreams on hold till the family settles, like making an effort even when you’re exhausted, like coming to terms with the fact that you will never agree on or enjoy those certain things together and choosing to continue despite that, like choosing to treat your spouse’s wound/illness over your sleep/your game/your show, like listening even when it gets boring, like consciously trying even when it doesn’t come naturally to you, like having long periods of mundane, unexciting days and still finding something to be happy about, like lowering your gaze when you suddenly feel like taking one more look, like continuing to be there when you’ve been given the cold shoulder, like listening with an open mind even when you’re in the line of fire, like biting back on that word you’re dying to hurl, like trying to find meaning when nothing’s making sense, like continuing to pray for it even when nothing seems to be changing, like keeping up your effort even when there’s barely any in return, like not acting on impulse when you feel like you have just about every right to, like consciously recalling the good when you face the bad, like not giving up even if you have to keep fighting harder and longer for the good… like too many things we’d rather not do.

    When you go through all of that and (ALOT) more together and come out alive, take a photograph of yourselves and send it to me. I need empirical evidence to write a book on this.

In the Heart of a Homemaker

In the Heart of a Homemaker
In the Heart of a Homemaker

I watch my fingers as they struggle to type, words lingering at their tips, unable to arrange themselves in an interesting sentence because they just don’t flow as easily as they used to. I begin to reflect on the evolution of my hands and the things they contained, touched, created and dealt with over the past few years. From books, poetry and coffee; to writing messages of love, caressing, preparing meticulous meals, carefully applying makeup, adjusting my earrings. To writing down my confused, depressed thoughts, to cupping them on my face as tears flowed in them and I prayed for direction. To drafting legal contracts  and typing out legal advice. To writing and editing articles and chopping onions for curry. To taking pills for various illnesses and having IV needles inserted into them. To taking off my rings as my fingers swelled. To holding my baby for the first time. To mixing bottles of milk and checking to make sure the temperature is right. To washing dishes, cracking eggs for breakfast, laying plates, peeling apples and boiling oats for baby lunch. To hurriedly getting dressed and fixing my hair before the bell rings. To flipping through Youtube aimlessly on a boring weekend. To making a cup of tea that fixes everything. To doing the bed and rocking my baby to sleep. To applying ointment to an aching neck or foot. To switching off the bed light, hoping for a few hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Under the layers of responsibility, of duties, of diapers, dishes, dressing up, doctor’s visits, expectations and arguments, underneath it all; in the heart and mind of a mother, of a wife, of a home-maker – is a young girl with unfinished dreams of her youth: studying in her dream university, cycling in the sun, laughing in the rain and getting drenched in the sea, pursuing the career everyone had always told her she would excel in, hearing words of deep love and affection, travelling the world, being surprised to tears, having a timeless conversation, taking in a breathtaking view, catching her loved one lost looking at her.

In millions of homes around the world at this very moment, there is a woman who’s probably setting the table for dinner or feeding her baby or packing a lunchbox; who, with the end of every day, buries the young girl she was in her heart. The young girl she was who watches her everyday as she gives, sacrifices, puts up, puts aside, settles, gives up and gives in. Gives every single second of her time and every single ounce of her health. Sacrifices her ambitions, interests and brilliance to routine. Puts up with what she never expected and never thought she had the strength to. Puts aside everything that happened, wipes her tears and forgets. Settles for whatever life’s brought her way. Gives up hope of seeing any change. And eventually, gives in to a life very different from the one she’d dreamed of.

Not all of this is my story. This is a collective story of the daily and eventual life of almost every single woman who is putting her husband and child(ren) first. A collection of the fragments of pain and longing that I come across in the eyes of and conversations I’ve had with so many women who are about to break, or have broken and become numb. Or are relentlessly struggling to make it work, and make it beautiful. This is the story of your mother, my mother, your sister, my sister, your close friend, my neighbor, you, me. You know it is.

Those who’ve passed it say it is a phase and that it will end. But isn’t the ending almost always the same: a woman with a battered body or/and soul, who doesn’t even remember what she was like before?

We’re happy, of course we are, and we love our families. But that does not mean we are not sad. That we do not tear up thinking of what we could have been doing or would have become by now… if we had put ourselves first.

NOTE: Your maturity will reflect in your understanding of this article and its message. Please do not flood me with comments of how to be grateful and look at the good times because if you think this is complaining, you are still too immature to understand.

Praying While Pregnant

Isn’t it beautiful that when a pregnant woman prays, she and her child are already worshipping Allah together? She begins to practically teach her child the Truth even before explaining a single word of it to him. She has already begun to bring up a new human being on the Right Path. SubhanAllah. Only Allah knows the reward He has prepared for such a woman. ❤

Duaa, Soulmates and the Absolute Exhilaration in Surrender

It was a very very long time ago when I discovered the most intriguing thing about my creation: that I was created with another part. A part that I have never seen, a part that was not made in me, but for me. A part that only time would bring, and I had to look out for. The part that would finally make me complete.

I was left with only a few clues about it: It was somewhere on earth. It was made of the same stuff that I was. It changed for the better if I did, and it deteriorated if I did. And most importantly, it was looking for me too.
Since the realization of this truth, I could say life was anything but easy. The first challenge after this realization was being aware of my incompleteness, recognizing that there is a void. A void that my society threatened to treat as a pitiful handicap if it existed ‘too long’. But themost excruciating of all was ignoring that void till it was to be filled with what fit just right. And I say excruciating because of the constant psychological pressure to fill that void, either making me break my head over tricky duplicates or with what society forced me to consider for its various stupid reasons, and when every time that void refused to be filled except by what belongs there, it painfully taunted me of its existence. Till there were numerous times I was so frustrated and/or disillusioned by the importance given to it that I vowed to desensitize myself and leave it empty, gaping at me for the rest of my life.
Thank God I decided something better: to desensitize myself to the pressure itself and not the void. In fact, I even stopped seeing it as a void. I saw it as it should be seen: a precious place to be taken, if and when Allah thinks best. And by whom Allah thinks best.
So as I prayed for goodness in all those other aspects of my life that are only in Allah’s knowledge, I continued to pray for goodness and delight when I am to finally see this place taken.
When a family friend once expressed that he liked me, I told him I was already in love. With someone I’ve never seen, but I know is out there. I was in love and I was preparing myself for him, and waiting. Waiting for the day time would finally reveal him to me. There would be endless discussions with friends about what, when and how it could happen, and we would either end up contemplating our dilemmas in silence, or laugh our lives out at our helpless speculations. Often times it would be solitary wondering, either while drinking coffee alone after a long tiring day or for a moment or two just before turning in for the night, or while staring at the solitary moon, or in those moments of quiet prayer in itikaaf.
Sometimes the wait got long and tiring. Many times I’d just think of giving up and giving in to whatever comes along, then I would remember the aayah from Surah Rahman: “Is not the reward for good only good?” So I’d wait a little more and try to preserve the goodness a little more. Then one day, my close friend mentioned to me that if I really wanted something from Allah, no classes, no routine, no sleep would keep me from waking up in the middle of the night and praying tahajjud to Him. So I finally decided to give it a try because the pressure on me to get married was increasing and I knew I would have to make a decision very soon. And to my own surprise, I found myself waking up at tahajjud without an alarm, without any reminders. After two weeks of earnest appeal in tahajjud, of testing my own hope and trust in Allah, I realised this unrevealed part of my life had given me alot more than I asked for: the most beautiful of all, was that it taught me how to ask from Allah. It taught me how to ask as His servant, His slave, His own personal creation– I confessed and complained and I asked and begged and pleaded, and I surrendered.felt like an empty-handed helpless slave, and nothing ever felt so good. SubhanAllah. It taught me the insignificance of myself, my abilities, my name and my irrelevant little attributes and the true value of His grace and forebearance and mercy throughout my life, but above all, the ultimate outcome of my pleading to Him was literally living proof of the power of proper duaa: the proof of His greatness to do all things, the proof of His definite answer to those who call on Him, the proof of His perfect discharge of trust for those who rely only on Him, and one of the most delightful forms of His mercy in my life. The answer to my duaa to Allah that I waited so, so long for… was much more than I expected, much much more than I deserved and better than I could ever imagine, Ma sha Allah. Alhamdulillah.
Originally written on 15th July 2010, the morning of my wedding.

Under a Crimson Veil

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Under a crimson veil, a sanctuary since birth is left for an unpredictable world.

Under a crimson veil, a woman painfully, reluctantly leaves the girl in her behind.

Under a crimson veil; an irreplacable happiness dies, as a fragile one is just conceived.

Under a crimson veil, the tears of a stabbing sorrow are shed; quietly, ruefully, uncontrollably.