Jalal Ansar was Zainab's older brother. Imama knew about him but they had
not met. Zainab and Imama were classmates and first met when Imama
joined college. Their acquaintanceship grew and so Imama got to know about
her family, that they were four siblings and Jalal was the eldest; he was doing
a house job as a doctor. Zainab's father was an engineer in WAPDA and their
family was quite religious.
On her return to from Islamabad, Imama said, ̳Zainab, that night when I'd
called, there was someone reciting a naat in the background. Who was it?' She
tried not to be too curious.
̳Oh, that ...that was Jalal Bhai. He was practicing for a naat competition.
Our phone's in the corridor and his room was open so you must have heard
him,' she explained.
̳He has a very nice voice.'
̳Yes, he does. His recital of the Quran is even better than the naat. He's won
many prizes for his recitals. He's going to participate in a competition in
college—you must come.'
Zainab did not know then about Imama's religious leanings. She was very
careful about purdah so Zainab thought Imama too was from a conservative
background like herself.
Two or three days later, without informing her friends Imama bunked classes
to attend the naat competition. That was when she saw Jalal Ansar for the
first time. He was a bearded young man, about 25 years old, and resembled
Zainab. Imama's eyes followed him as he rose from his seat and came on stage
to take his place at the rostrum. Eyes closed and arms folded across his chest,
he began reciting:
Kuch nahi mangta shahon se ye sheda tera
(Your admirer asks nothing from the kings)
Is ki dolat hai faqat naqsh-e-qaf-e-paa tera
(For the dust of your tracks is my greatest reward)
A current seemed to run through Imama. There was pin drop silence in the
hall where only his voice echoed, casting a spell. She did not notice when he
finished and came offstage, who came next, what the outcome of the
competition was or when the last student left the hall. After a long time the realization hit her that she was the only one sitting there. ̳I heard your brother recite yesterday,' she told Zainab.
̳Really? He won the first prize.' Zainab smiled.
After a pause, Imama replied, ̳It was a beautiful naat.'
̳He has been reciting the Quran and naats since childhood and winning
awards. Now he has lost count,' Zainab said with some pride. ̳The beauty of
his voice lies in the depth of his faith and the passion with which he recites,'
she continued. ̳He venerates and adores the Holy Prophet (pbuh) beyond
limits. He has never recited anything except the Quran and naats. Whenever
asked to participate in other events, he says that the tongue that serves God
and His Messenger could never sing praises of anyone else.
̳We love the Prophet (pbuh) too, but I have not seen the kind of adoration
that my brother has. He has not missed a single prayer in the last ten years
and he completes the reading of the entire Quran every month. You've got to
listen to his Qirat...' Zainab extolled her brother. Imama listened to her
quietly but did not ask any more questions.
The next day, Imama just lay curled up in bed instead of getting ready for
class.
̳Don't you have a class? It's getting late.' Javeria tried to awaken her.
̳You run along—I'm not going,' Imama said, closing her eyes again.
̳Why?'
̳Not feeling good,' said Imama.
̳Your eyes are irritated—too red. Didn't you sleep well last night?'
̳No... and now, please let me sleep.' Imama warded off more inquiry and
Javeria left for class.
Imama had indeed not slept well. Jalal Ansar's voice kept echoing around her
and she could hardly focus on anything else. She kept repeating his name
under her breath, wondering what attracted her so, why she could not
dislodge him from her mind. Imama recalled Zainab's words as she stood by
the window. ̳The beauty of his voice lies in the depth of his faith and the
passion with which he recites. He venerates and adores the Holy Prophet
(pbuh).'
Depth of faith, passion, the pain and sweetness of his voice...what was it that
had moved her so? ̳The world begins with the adoration of the Creator and
ends with the adoration of His messenger, the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh),'
she remembered. The thought plunged her into silence and deeper thoughts—
as if she were descending step by step into herself, searching the dark void for
some light, some guidance. ̳What is it about the Prophet (pbuh) that brings
tears to the eyes of his devotees? That touches a chord in their hearts? Faith?
Veneration? Passion? Why was I not moved to tears? Why did words of praise not rise on my lips?'Imama's voice broke as she tried to recite the verses presented by Jalal. She
cleared her throat and tried again, and tried again, standing by the open
window. Halfway, she stopped: it was Jalal's voice that haunted her, loud and
clear, like a call to prayer. She felt a wetness on her face and realized that she
was crying. Her fingers touched her streaming eyes. Confused, and covering
her face with her hands, she sank to the floor and sobbed her heart out.
The most difficult dilemma for a person is perhaps when his heart testifies to
an inevitable reality yet his tongue will not proclaim it, when his mind
screams in acceptance of the truth but he cannot bring himself to state it.
Imama Hashim found herself at the same crossroads. The decision that had
tortured her for the last two or three years had been made by a call—without
searching or examining the basis of faith in the Hoy Prophet (pbuh). For
years, she had heard praises being sung of their prophet, yet they never
evoked such a response—brought no tears to her eyes nor softened her
heart—but whenever she had heard, read or talked about Hazrat Muhammad
(pbuh) she found herself strangely moved, drawn towards him. Her resistance
to Sabiha's lectures evaporated, and Jalal Ansar's voice was like a firefly
leading the way.
Me tujhe alam-e-ashya me bhi paa leta hoon
(Your presence guides me in the material world,)
Log kehte hain ke hai alam-e-baala tera
(Though your abode is celestial I am told.)
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hey guys lots of love from my side mmmwwaaahhhhh..................pookies
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PEER E KAMIL
Romansashe fell first but he fell harder she waited 9 years for him she is innocent converted to islam he is far from islam he is bad boy converted to a good boy for him salar x imama
