Masir | مصير

< 08 >

Fawad

Moving aside, she nodded. I gripped the phone case in my hands. I don't think I should ask her to confide in me. I don't even have the right. So, I silently walked inside.

On her prayer mat, the Qur'an was kept on the reading stand. So, she was reading the Qur'an.

"If you are not done reading the Qur'an, please go ahead. I'll wait on the couch." She nodded again, casting her eyes down.

Securing the phone case behind me, I made myself comfortable on the couch. Her books were neatly kept on the table before me, but I was not in the mood to go through them. Seher sat before the reading stand, slowly resuming her recitation.

I waited a couple of minutes, but the result didn't come. She was reading silently. I hoped to hear her recitation, though.

I leaned back, eyes set on her. What's our fate? I don't know. Generally speaking, we are not the same in any way.

I have never seen Seher without her dupatta, not a single strand of her hair would fall out. And I'm certain, no one did. Seher is shy, polite, and caring. Beautiful, too. The way she carries herself screams of her modesty.

She is a pious girl.

I still remember what Yahya told me when I asked him about his ideal 'girl'. It was before my spiritual change. The reason I had asked him was because I was very curious. Girls in our uni liked him. Well, he's a good-looking champ.

But he never paid them any heed. He always lowers his gaze and engages himself in books, whether academics or Islamic. Somehow, we got close. Maybe it was him who showed an interest in me. It was after he came to know that I was a Muslim.

Initially, he was shocked. I can't blame him. I was that far from my deen.

"Have you ever heard about Khadeeja(Ra)? Or Fathima(Ra) or Asiyah(as)?" He had asked me back as his reply.

My answer was a head shake. I knew them. But that was it. Just knew them. And what did he do? He just smiled his signature gentle smile---- to which most of the girls became his fans. However, his smile was never once directed towards any woman apart from his bloodlines.

"Then how will you know my ideal type?" He asked again.

"That's why my friend's name's Yahya." I had joked to hide my heedlessness.

He shook his head, "You know Khadeeja(ra) was the most beloved wife of the prophet Muhammed(saw). Even after her death, he(saw) never stopped loving her. Although he(saw) married several more wives and loved them all, Khadeeja(ra) had a special place in his(saw) qalb."

He was quiet for some time. Something twinkled in his eyes. I still remember it. After a few seconds, he continued, "Once Aysha(ra) asked prophet Muhammed(saw) if Khadeeja(ra) was the only one worthy of his love. He(saw) replied,' She believed in me when no one did; She accepted Islam when people rejected me; She helped and confronted me when there was no one else to lend me a helping hand.'

Khadeeja(ra) was one of the richest at that time. But later, she spent every penny on the cause of Allah(swt). She spent days without eating because there was no food. See, she did that all out of love.

Now, tell me, will your Aleesha or Zoey be able to do that? No, never. Because that's not true love.

The story of Fathima(ra) and Ali(ra) was also so beautiful and painful at the same time. You know, when Fathima(ra) passed away at a very young age, Ali(ra) could easily marry another one. Because that was so common, even he could marry a couple more. But still, he was so faithful to her. Also, he was so heartbroken at her departure. He started writing poetry, which displayed a lot of love and pain.