"Mujhe jhelna mushkil hai nader," she said with a smile while her gaze was fixed on the table.
("It's difficult to tolerate me, Nader")
"Main jhel lunga," I replied.
("I'll manage")
She looked up towards me, then continued.
"Mai khubsurat nahi ho...
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After making dua, I stood up and turned to keep the prayer mat to my parents' room, only to find Abbu standing by the door.
"So you took my prayer mat?" Abbu asked, still standing there, in a somewhat scolding tone.
I couldn't say anything, I just gave him a faint, apologetic smile, nervously running my hand through my hair.
Abbu smiled too and then started walking toward me.
Before I could say anything, he gently hugged me. Neither of us spoke anything, there was complete silence in the room.
"You are very dear to me, Aziz, and seeing you pray Tahajud today made me relief now," Abbu said with great warmth.
And once again, I couldn't say anything.
After embracing me for a while, Abbu looked at me, then at my tear-filled eyes. He seemed as if he wanted to say something but couldn't.
"Your prayer mat," I said, while handing it to him.
"From now on, you use it," he said with a smile.
"Shukriya," I replied softly.
"Pray Fajr and then get some sleep," Abbu said.
"Jii," I answered.
Then Abbu left the room.
I reached for the glass of water on my table stand and as I finished drinking just then Azaan for Fajr began. I checked the time; it was 5:10 AM. Had I been praying Tahajud for an hour? I had only prayed two rakats of Tahajud. Was my dua really that long? I started to feel a strange happiness. The person who didn't even know Allah had spent an entire hour talking to Him today.
"Assalamualaikum, Samir," I called him after the Azaan.
"What did you say, Aziz?" came a question full of disbelief from the other end.
"I'm greeting you. Aren't you going to reply?" I asked him.
"I can't believe you are greeting me," Samir said.
"Walaikum assalam," he replied after a pause.
"Where are you right now?" I asked him the next question.
"I'm going to the mosque," he answered.
"Wait outside the mosque, I'm coming too," I said, and ended the call.
After performing wuzu, I headed towards the mosque. When I reached there, I saw Samir standing by the gate. A slight smile appeared on my face when I saw him. He saw me too, but his face showed no expression.
After so many years, I came to the mosque to pray with a sincere heart, and for the first time, my steps didn't falter. It felt as though Allah had granted me permission to enter His house.
We both performed the Fajr prayer, and once again, my eyes filled with tears while making dua. Tears were the only way I could express my sorrow. During Tahajud, I had only asked for forgiveness for my sins, but now, in this moment of sajda (prostration), she was all I could think about.
