Fizah

آغاز|Aagaaz

"Har roz gir kar bhi
Mukammal khade hain
Ae zindagi dekh,
Mere honsle tujhse bhi bade hai"

It was like any other day, Fizah returned empty handed. The last two months had been exhausting and miserable, there was not a single day where she had returned with a job in her hand. Her hopes were high this time, she was sure she would get the job because her qualifications matched the requirements of the job but after losing her job to a person that paid the company, she lost the hope. The world began to conspire against her. Again. But she wasn't that fifteen year old Fizah anymore, she had learnt a lot at a very young age.

Fizah pushed open the door to her friend's cafe who also lived in the same orphanage as her. Ayda wore a big smile when Fizah walked in. With her shoulders sagged, Fizah put her resume and her bag on the counter and started to help Ayda.

After Fizah's parents disowned her nine years ago blaming her for something she didn't do, they didn't think she needed a last name to survive in the cruel world. Ayda slid a plate of muffins to Fizah's side who just stared at it.

"Got the job?" Ayda asked as she took a spoonful of coffee from the bottle.

"Wasn't written in my laqeerein." she heaved a huge sigh.

"It will be fine. Eat this, I'll bring coffee in a minute." Ayda told her.

Ayda and Fizah weren't just friends, they had been each other's world and protectors from the time they met. When Ayda decided to make something out of her was the time when Fizah got her first and previous job and the girls made it and then moved out together into a small apartment.

"Nahi yaar, I have not prayed yet, I'll do that first." She replied making her way to the bathroom to perform wudhu.

Fizah always made sure to hold on to Allah because he was there for her when no one was there, he provided her a safe roof over her head. She stared at her reflection, her pale face and tired eyes stared back at her. Followed was the row of sighs. The feeling of failure loomed over head like a sword. She remorsed that she lived in a world where money was everything.

She tied her loose hair in a braid and splashed water on her face, she didn't want to be what her parents thought of her. She wasn't. It got harder everytime she was sent back and circumstances made it seem like what her parents told her was nothing but truth. She performed wudhu and came out of the bathroom.

She took the janamaz out of her bag to spread it on the ground. She carefully draped dupatta around her head as began the namaz.

What could be more calming than to follow the only mode to communicate with the lord who knew each corner of the heart, who knew secrets that a person desperately tried to hide from the world, who helped his slaves in miseries, who smiled when his slaves laughed wholeheartedly, who comforted us during the time of heartbreaks and the only lord the mankind prostrated. There hadn't been a word to describe the love Allah had for his creations but humanity always took it for granted. Indeed, it is he who has the knowledge of seen and unseen, of the world and beyond.

Praying to Allah always eased her worries. Fizah's lips trembled reciting the ayats of Qur'an, her eyes watered noticing how comforting her lord's words were and how the world was in denial. After offering her namaz, she sat on janamaz raising her hand in dua. That's it. Her tears knew no end. Warm drops wetted her pale pink cheeks. Her heart ached while asking to remove the pain. She was at peace because the world might have abandoned her but Allah hadn't and he never would.