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Monday, 25 November 2013

Excerpt from my Novel :)


“Inaaayah!” shouted her mum from the top of the stairs.

“Yeaaah, mum?” replied the occupied Inayah who was busy fixing her hijab in the mirror.

“Your room is an absolute tip! You are not going anywhere until this mess is cleared up!” her mother yelled back from the top of the winding staircase.

Inayah yawned. “Yes mum, I’ll do it in five.” she replied sluggishly.   

“Although, let me just clarify, it was Sara who made all the mess, not me!” She turned around and smirked at her sister who was slouched on the front couch watching her favorite ‘Tracy Beaker.’

“Whatever!” muttered Sarah who turned her face away from her sister, pretending to look elsewhere.

Inayah sighed, shaking her head whilst continuing to apply several pins to her hijab. Today, she wore a turquoise crinkle shawl which was wrapped neatly around her oval face. The smooth shade of turquoise really suited her soft, pastel skin. Her small eyes were lined with dusky, black kohl, making her hazelnut eyes stand out under the shining light of the living room chandelier. Her eyebrows were thin and arched, and her dimples only added to her beauty. Inayah was undoubtedly one of the most attractive girls at her college, although she thought the total opposite. Her classmates envied her fine-looks and her tall, slim build, and aspired to be like her.

Inayah, however, was oblivious to all the attention she spurred. Whenever a girl would praise or compliment her, she would disinterestedly brush it off and not really think much of it. Even when girls would act extra friendly with her, she never thought it was because they looked up to her and found her really pretty and popular.  It wasn’t even Inayah’s outward appearance, but her personality, which made her loved by all. Inayah was easy-going, innocent, and youthful - and that’s what the teachers admired about her the most - her soft nature and personality, her wit and of course her intelligence. On one hand, she was a full-grown, confident and wise woman, but at other times, she was like a timid child who craved a bit of adventure and silliness from time to time.

Growing up in a mixed creed family was probably the most difficult thing Inayah had to combat in her childhood. Her mother was previously a Catholic Christian, and reverted to Islam years after she married Inayah’s dad, an Egyptian doctor, who came to study supplementary medicine at the University of Ilford. That’s where he met Inayah’s mum, Maha, or previously named Amy, who at the time was working as a part-time midwife at the local hospital.

Maha only reverted to Islam when Inayah was 9. The constant argument, conflicts and bellowing between her parents, was something she hated to remember.

Which Muslim man doesn’t want his Christian wife to at least look into accepting his religion?” Her father’s often-used rhetorical question was ringing in Inayah’s mind. But Maha was a strong woman, who stuck to her opinions and ways and made her own decisions. Maha, at one point was even considering divorcing Inayah’s father, Mohammad, but she decided to go against it for the sake of Inayah, Sarah and Ahmed – their three young children.

It took the loss of Maha’s third child, for her to accept Islam. As ill-fated as it was at the time, Inayah thought that the hardship her mother had to go through when she had to give birth to her still-born child was only a huge blessing in disguise. Although Inayah was only ten years old at the time, both herself and Sarah understood the pain of losing a child, and even though they could only look at their mother cry, and weep over this tragic loss, it only gave them strength and patience which they hoped to carry forward, when they would have to cope with their own personal battles.

As a result of the death, Maha began to look into Islam. She would take Inayah and Sarah to talks at the local Masjid, which was where Inayah met Ameerah, Taymiyyah and Uncle Najm, who was the one who assisted in Maha’s shahadah. It was a proud day for Mohammad, the day his wife, the mother of his children, declared the shahadah. The feeling of euphoria, the elated happiness and the unexplainable pride at that moment was a feeling he would never forget. The marriage which he thought wouldn’t survive, was now building up again, brick by brick, until it would one day become a strong, stable fortress.

Inayah remembered the moment she held her mother’s hand; squeezing it tightly as her mother began to testify that there was no God but Allah. Her mother’s pale skin turned from a pallid white to a bright red, and she saw her mother clasp her eyes shut, as Uncle Najm asked her to repeat the statement in English through the microphone. Inayah knew that this would be a new beginning, for her and her entire family. A new spring, and hopefully a more bright and lively one.

Inayah was raised mostly by her mother, so knew heaps of information about Christianity and the trinity. She admired Jesus and his message, and how he died on the cross for her sake. Inayah could instantly quote passages from the bible, counteracting the views of her oppositions. She was clever, and her memory was strong.

Conversely, Mohammad would fill Inayah’s ears about how Jesus was but a prophet, and that the religion of Islam was the only true religion. This was confusing for Inayah, as she was so attached to her Christian beliefs her mother had taught her whilst her dad would be away working, that she just couldn’t grasp the idea that she was following an incorrect religion. Nonetheless, deep inside, Inayah secretly loved the practices of her father, how he would wake in the middle of the night to perform Tahajjud prayers, and how on some days he would fast and nearly every day she would see him give in charity. His soft personality made him stay quiet in front of Maha’s strong, overpowering attitude, and whenever they argued, he was always the loser in their sight.

Therefore, the minute of Maha’s shahadah was an equally delirious moment for Inayah too. A moment she knew would put so many things into place and perspective.

Soon after, Maha gave birth to Ahmed. Inayah and her family were enthralled, and couldn’t thank Allah enough. He was a replacement for what Maha had loss, Inayah knew it, and it only made her research more into God, His Mercy, and why He takes people away and brings people to life. She would attend the Masaajid at a young age with her father where she would learn about Islam and meet other brothers and sisters.

Inayah was then sent to an Islamic girl’s school after turning eleven, where she learnt more about her religion, excelling in every subject and especially acing her Religious Studies exams. Nothing was dearer to her than her religion, and she found peace and contentment in worshipping God.

Inayah smoothed out her long chic abayah, before putting on her black denim jacket and grabbing her side back which was hung on the hook near the living room mirror.

“Right, Alhamdulillah, now that that’s done, I better go tidy my room, pack some last minute essentials and give my little Ahmed a kiss before I leave.” Inayah turned around facing her sister and shining a pleasant smile as she walked past her to the staircase.

“Enjoy.” Sara replied, disinterestedly. Too busy staring at the TV.

“I will, indeed” grinned Inayah sarcastically, suspecting that Sara was nothing more than jealous. 

Friday, 8 November 2013

The Gift Of Health (Memoir)


Assalaamu Alaykum Warahmaullahi Wabarakatuhu,















Every Ramadhan, I believe, is a Ramadhan to remember. Each Ramadhan brings with it treasures which we collect and keep for the upcoming year. Ramadhan 2013 was a very different experience. Unlike the other years, I experienced something that made me a appreciate the blessing of health and the blessing of being able to fast so much more.
It was a Saturday morning and I had a lot on my mind. I’m an individual who worries and stresses over the teeniest of issues, and that morning was one of those days I was stressing!

Although, I never thought that would be the reason I’d be driven to hospital in an ambulance.

So, I was sitting in my Tafseer class on this beautiful morning, in the company of my sisters (and the Angels!), when I decided to begin to feel a tightening in my chest. At first, I took it as a pinch of salt, I suffered from Asthma when I was younger, and ever since always had a slight wheezy chest from time to time, which also kept me awake some nights. However, as the class progressed it worsened and my wheezing was getting more and more severe, to the point that I couldn’t breathe and had to rush to the bathroom every few minutes, in the attempt to try and get some oxygen into my lungs. It was a horrible feeling, and at the same time I was getting extremely sharp shooting pains in my chest.

Just a couple of weeks before that, my Grandma had a heart attack, and my mind was wandering from that thought to the thought of just having recently written an essay in health and social care, on the signs and symptoms of Coronary heart disease. Oh, how far my thoughts travelled.

When I returned to class, my mum looked over at me and asked me if I was ok, to which I responded a helpless no. I was struggling to get some air into my lungs and wanted to just… breathe! Alhamdulilah, my mum knew better than me, and decided to ring the ambulance. By then, the class had finished, and flocks of sister began to leave. I hurriedly ran into a spare classroom and sat on the floor trying to cough out phlegm whilst simultaneously trying to get air into me.

All along, I had forgotten I was fasting, until a sister came and gave me a glass of water and some dates. I couldn’t eat but had a sip of the water and loosened up my Hijab. A few minutes later, the ambulance arrived and began to attach several wires and what-not to my body. The female paramedic told me to remove my jilbab as she needed to attach some wires to my upper arm. I glanced over at my mum and then to the other sisters in the room. The male paramedic was also in the room and I had my Pyjamas underneath. It was only at this moment I understood why mum always told me off for wearing my PJ’s under my Jilbab! I never understood that until this day.

Anyways, I believe the man realised that I was uncomfortable in uncovering, whilst he was in the room, and so he left. What I appreciated the most right then, was when one of the sisters called her husband over in order to keep the male paramedic company! He left his chores and his house to do just that. Okay, it’s hilarious in a way, but at the same time I appreciated that act ever so much, it’s like the brother had a sense of gheerah in him, and this protectiveness, and so much respect for me that he didn’t want another man looking at me without my jilbab and hijab. Islam truly does protect and honour the woman.

Anyways, after several hours in the hospitals undergoing tests after tests, it was finally revealed that I was in fact suffering from… nothing. Yes, all that and the end result was nothing. The nurses couldn’t really find an answer to why that happened to me, my blood pressure was high, and that was about it, everything else, the X-rays etc, were all clear. They suspected that perhaps I was stressed and that’s what caused it all to happen. Too right they were

They provided me with medication and said that I wasn’t allowed to fast for a while, and so I missed around eleven fasts. Although, It was nothing, I still was very ill and weak and needed time to recover.

My parents would check-up on me every night, sometimes my dad would go down in the depth of the night and make me some hot green tea, and then with his own hands he would spoon feed me the tea, as I was too weak and unable to do it myself. May Allah preserve my parents and grant them Firdaus for all they do and have done for me. Ameen.

The fact that it was Ramadhan and I couldn’t do any extra Ibaadah was the most upsetting thing to know, and was what was bugging me the most. My Salaah would be prayed whilst sitting and I couldn’t pray my Taraaweeh. It was like, it wasn’t Ramadhan. Everyone around me was fasting, and I felt an ounce or more of jealousy. How much I missed fasting. I just wasn’t feeling it…

However, my mum would tell me that I was still getting rewarded, and I was reminded that it was all a purification, and what month is it better for one to be purified than in the month of Ramadhan, where the rewards are increased and multiplied many manifold?

I often ponder over the blessing of health, after this incident and also previously when I was diagnosed with TB and remained in hospital for a period of time. Alhamdulilah, Allah healed me, He gave me strength, He helped me regain energy every time. It taught me how much of a blessing health is. How much it is a blessing to be able to fast.

The point of this whole story, (besides the fact that I just wanted to write lol) is that, now that you have the health, now that you have the ability to worship Allah, take it as an opportunity and make the most of it. We have now entered the season of winter where the days are short and the nights are long. So, if you have the health -utilise it, use it in fasting nawaafil fasts, or praying extra prayers, because you never know if you will ever get that opportunity again, you never know how long you will be strong and healthy, and sometimes one has to go through loss of health to truly acknowledge the worth and weight of this beautiful gift bestowed upon them.

*~*~* Beautiful Quotes *~*~*

Assalaamu Alaykum Warahmatullahi Wabarakatuhu,

Just a few beautiful quotes I translated from Arabic to English...



لقد علمتني الحياة بأني مزيج تراب و روح و ماء و إني ضعيف، إذا كنت وحدي و إني قوي برب السماء 


"Life has taught me that verily I am a mixture of dirt and soul and water, and so I am weak. When I am alone/by myself, I am strengthened by the Lord of the Heavens


***


لا تعبدوا الله ليعطي,بل أعبدوه ليرضى,فإذا رضى أدهشكم بعطائه !


"Do not worship Allah in order for Him to (give you blessings etc), but worship him so that He may be pleased with you, and if He is pleased with you, you will be stunned at what He gives"

***



لا تياس و لا تحزن 

Don't lose hope, and don't be sad

***



لا تبكي علي شيءٍ مضي, لو كلن خيراً لبقي 


'Dont cry over something that has gone, if it was good, it would have remained

***



لا تستسلم 

Don't give up




















~ A Beautiful Ending ~

Assalaamu Alaykum Warahmatullahi Wabarakatuhu,




A sister came over to our house day and I was inspired by her story and I wanted to share it with you all. 

She began by telling us about how she lost her mother a year ago. Both her mother and father used to try their best to travel to Makkah and Madinah every year, her father having been 23 times and her mother 21 times. She was telling us how her father was such a giving person, a man whose heart was attached to the masjid, he never withheld and was the first one to give in the path of Allah. Even after he passed away, her and her siblings would find that he had paid for their local masaajid to be carpeted before he died. He was given the honour of reciting the words of the shahadah at the time his soul was leaving his body. He died on the day of Jumu'ah.

Her mother was also granted an equally beautiful death. It was her 21st Umrah and she was in the blessed land of Makkah, just as she went to make her ablution, she came back and the Angel of death was waiting to take her soul. This was also on the day of Jum'uah. She was buried just ten minutes away from the haram and her funeral was read at the feet of the Kaab'ah with thousands praying for her. This sister was telling us how she was grieving for a good ten months, both her parents had passed away and she was losing herself, she was drowning in sorrow. She recently came back from Umrah in July and said that this was the first time after her mother passed away that her heart finally felt at peace. After visiting her mum at the graveyard in Makkah, her heart felt content that her mum was in a better place. She just felt it, that beneath that soil were resting people of Jannah...and Allah knows best.

What served as a beautiful reminder was when she told us about the character of her mother."'People always ask me…" she said, about my mother... what was it about her that Allah gave her such a beautiful ending?"

"My mother was a simple woman.." she said. She was a woman who was always obedient to her husband." "People say to me, did she wear Niqab etc?" "I would answer, no, she was a simple lady - it's not about what's outward but it's about your Taqwa."

And that's just it. It's not about your beginning but your ending. It's not about how you live, but how you die. It's not about what people know you for, it's about what's in your heart. It's not about your status in this dunya, but your rank in the sight of Allah. It's not about anything...but your Taqwa.

May Allah grant us beautiful endings with the shahadah as our final words. Allahumm Ameen.

Saturday, 2 November 2013

Unleash your inner sparkle!

Assalaamu Alaykum Warhamatullahi Wabaraktuhu,





Allah has blessed every individual with different talents and skills. Some are more suited in the work of medicine, whilst others are blessed with eloquent speech which they use to advise and counsel. Some people have been gifted with the skill to write stories and poems, whilst others have the clever brains to solve x=4 + y (That's probably an equation that makes no sense. I'm rubbish at maths!) Whatever it is that we've been blessed with, we should make the intention that we are going to use that skill or talent for the cause of Islam. Meaning, that we will use our talents as a means of pleasing Allah and helping humanity. 

Often I hear people say, 'I don't have a talent' or 'I haven't discovered it yet'. Trust me, all it takes is *believing* in yourself and exploring differing things. You'll come to realise your sparkle once you go searching for it.

I only realised I could write, or shall I say enjoy writing (because I have a lot to work on), when I used to pour out my feelings on paper. Later on, I'd pick it up and think, that'd actually make a fine poetry piece! Thus, I'd became more confident every time I'd write.



Allah (swt) has also given us these abilities so that we can do Shukr to Him for them. A way of doing Shukr (thanking Allah) is by showing it through our actions. It's by finding our inner sparkle and unleashing it in order to brighten up communities, societies and nations. It's by recognising that we were created, born, with talent, born with creativity, born with imagination, which if we used and utilised, would make a world of a difference to our dying, gloomy communities. 

If we're lacking enthusiasm and productivity, if we're doing nothing with our lives, wasting it way, waiting for the time we get married, or graduate before we do something different, then we're only procrastinating and wasting our precious time. Time is of essence. Time is to too precious for us to waste. 

As Ibnul Qayyim (Rahimullah) said:

"Wasting time is worse than death because death seperates you from this world whereas wasting time seperates you from Allah". 

By filling your time with doing things for the sake of Allah, you will find a sense of peace a sense of contentment. If you go seeking for your sparkle you will find it, and you will use it. You will use it for the cause of Allah, but you will also enjoy it. So do so, go out and glitter the world with your skills and talents. Go out and help the people with the abilities Allah has blessed you with. Go out and ignite a change.

It's not enough just saying "I want to change the world", rather, prove it through your actions, prove it through your talents and through your skills.

Remember, you're never too old to learn. You're never too old to make a difference. :)


"There is a fountain of youth: it is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring to your life and the lives of people you love. When you learn to tap this source, you will truly have defeated age."