Risen from dust

Twenty Six

Noor awoke from a deep slumber, feeling a sense of tranquility that had been absent from her life for far too long. In her dreams, she found solace, envisioning a world where her parents were still by her side, filling her heart with warmth and love. However, her peaceful reverie was abruptly interrupted by the tap of a stick against her head. Startled, Noor opened her eyes to find an old lady standing before her, demanding her attention. It took a moment for her to register her surroundings and realize where she was. With a renewed sense of purpose, Noor swiftly regained her composure and rose from her bed. The urgency in the old lady's voice spurred her into action. She hurriedly made wudhu, preparing herself for the day ahead. But before proceeding to make breakfast, Noor's devotion to her faith led her to request a prayer mat from Daadi. She explained that she needed to offer her missed Fajr prayer, seeking spiritual nourishment before attending to her responsibilities. Surprisingly, Daadi acquiesced without protest, silently acknowledging Noor's religious devotion. As she observed Noor in prayer, a newfound admiration blossomed within Daadi's heart. She realized that this young woman possessed an innocence and piety that were truly remarkable. In that moment, a flicker of hope sparked within Daadi. Perhaps someone like Noor, a pure and virtuous soul, could bring about positive changes in Zaaviyaar's life.

As Noor completed her prayers, she found herself lingering a little longer, whispering a heartfelt supplication for Zaviyaar. It was a prayer she had never made before, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability and shyness as she mentioned his name to Allah. She couldn't fully comprehend why she was drawn to Zaviyaar. Perhaps it was his mysterious aura or the glimpses of kindness she had seen beneath his tough exterior. There was something about him that sparked a connection deep within her. Noor closed her eyes and allowed her thoughts to wander, reflecting on the moments she had shared with Zaviyaar, both the tense encounters and the fleeting instances of unexpected warmth. She couldn't deny the unexplainable pull she felt towards him, even though it seemed illogical and contrary to her usual prayers. With a mixture of hope and trepidation, Noor silently beseeched Allah to grant Zaviyaar peace, guidance, and happiness. She wished for him to find solace in his heart and to overcome the burdens that weighed him down. Noor's own heart swelled with a desire to be a source of support and comfort for him, even if she couldn't fully comprehend the depth of her feelings. Noor finished her prayer and rose from her prostration, feeling a renewed sense of purpose and peace. Daadi observed her with a mix of curiosity and admiration.

Daadi cleared her throat and spoke, her voice softer than usual. "You're quite devoted to your prayers, aren't you, Noor?"

Noor turned towards Daadi with a gentle smile. "Yes, Daadi. Prayer brings me comfort and guidance. It helps me stay connected to Allah and find strength in challenging times."

Daadi nodded, contemplating Noor's words. "I must admit, I haven't seen many young people like you, so committed to their faith. It's quite refreshing."

Noor's smile widened. "Thank you, Daadi. Islam teaches us to be kind, respectful, and to strive for righteousness. It's not just about performing rituals but embodying those values in our daily lives."

Daadi's eyes softened as she looked at Noor. "You have a good heart, Noor. Perhaps there is hope for my grandson, Zaaviyaar, after all." she muttered the latter so that Noor couldn't hear her. 

Noor rushed down to the kitchen, her heart still heavy with the conversation she had with Daadi. As she descended the stairs, she unintentionally eavesdropped on a heated argument between Mrs. Mehnaz and Zaviyaar. Their voices echoed through the house, filled with frustration and anger.

"...oh yeah mama, the girl you chose for me last time turned out spectacular. She ripped out my heart and made a fool out of me. I am sick and tired of your choices," Zaviyaar's voice carried a mix of bitterness and resignation.