ZAIRA

Chapter 1

"Hasbunallah wanikmal wakil"

You know why we should be saying "Allah is sufficient for me"? 

Because you were born alone and you will die alone. 

This world will treat you like nobody but Allah swt loves you more than 70 mothers. Whatever hardships afflict you, are from His permission. So don't worry. Don't stress out. He is the Al Muhaymin- The guardian. He has also made a way out of this. Don't worry. You don't need any helper other than Allah swt.

Sitting by the window on her bed, her pen moved along with the words in her diary, caring less about her hair that hung loosely on her left shoulder. 

When she was done, she shut her diary, took a deep breath leaned by the window, Hugging her knees to her chest, she shut her eyes, allowing the soft midnight breeze to touch her delicate skin and her hair to move along with it.

 
'What is life?' she questioned herself. 'Is it a prison? Or a paradise?' another question.
Then a hadith she read somewhere hit her mind, "The world is a prison for the believer and a paradise for the unbeliever."

 
'But then why is everyone suffering?  Even the one who shows he is the happiest, even the cruelest person, they all suffer. Why?' She argued with her inner self. 'Because we are here to find peace. Not happiness. Even the people who had nothing were at peace. And yet the people who have everything do not find peace. 'Verily in the remembrance of Allah do hearts find peace.'

 
In no second she opened her eyes as a thought came across her mind, "Am I at peace?" The words rolled down her tongue whispering to herself.

Peace

Taking a deep breath she got up, went to the bathroom, and looked at herself in the mirror under the bright white light of the bulb. Messy ponytail, brown skin, wide chestnut eyes with eyebags underneath, a frail laugh escaped her lips as if she was saying, Who cares?

Shrugging her shoulders she put a loose strand of her hair behind her ear, twisted the knob and the water began to flow in the sink. She silently recited tauz and tasmia before she did her wudu. Entering into her dimly lit room she unfolded the sleeves of her kurti and picked up a dupatta from the couch near the white curtains that were soaring due to the wind from outside.

Wrapping it around her head she laid the prayer mat on the floor facing the qiblah and made the niyah (intention) of tahajjud directing her full attention to her Lord. She finished off her Salah by turning her head from right to left and raising her hands to make dua.

"Ya Allah, you have given me so much in life, more than what I deserve that I can't thank you enough for. I just want to know why. I live under this roof, eat good food, wear good clothes, and have a loving mother, and a kind sister, What else do I want? Why am I still not grateful? Maybe this is the reason why I am not at peace right?" she gazed at the moon out of the window as she inhaled a deep breath. "You want us to shine irrespective of the blemishes inside. Like this moon. Is this what you call peace? To be at peace even after having a void within? It's not easy Ya Allah. It's not." A lone tear skidded down her cheek. "Maybe this is why this world is a prison for believers. Ya Allah please forgive my Abbu, I know no one is perfect. You are Ar Rahman who loves me more than seventy mothers. Please forgive the sins of my abbu and expand his grave. Make him from the people of Jannah, and open the doors of heaven for him. You have kept a pardah of his sins from me Ya Allah. You have made his character good in front of me. That's why I believe you won't let the fire of hell touch his soul. I used to complain to you when you took my father from me when I was barely 8 years old... But not anymore because I know You saved him from the hardships and afflictions of this world and gave him a better place to rest for a while before an eternal paradise. Ameen. And Ya Allah please give my ammi the peace that she deserves in this world and akhira and happiness from her husband as a wife. And make us all from among the people of the good to walk on the path of Sirat al mustaqeem. Allahhumma Ameen '' She didn't realise when her eyes began to shed tears.