My Road To Jannah ||an Islamic story||

One

||UNEDITED ||

14th Oct 1965

Daddy took me to the church again today. Ever since Mummy died, he got very upset and down to the pits. He cried everyday, while looking at Mummy's smiling photo - the one that he captured when we went for a vacation last year. When I asked him why we have to go to that place, he said he could calm himself there. Well, only for awhile, because the second he stepped out of that place, his shoulders became saggy again.

So...was Daddy telling me lies or what?

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"Sadaqallahul azeem...," I kissed the Qur'an and pushed it against my chest. I felt calm indeed and I liked it. This kind of peace was hard to get unless you sincere in devoting yourself to Him. Him, Allah SWT, my first love.

A few knocks came in. I placed the Qur'an on my nightstand carefully along with the prayer beads which was a present from Sheikh Ali. He had helped me a lot in finding the light of truth.

I took off my prayer veil when the knocks came again.

"Yes?"

"Felicia, dinner's ready," it was Mom.

"I'm coming," I said and paused for awhile, "...and by the way, it's not Felicia anymore. It's Fatima."

No answer.

Yes, I had converted into Islam two years ago. I'm now a Muslim, who loved Allah more than everything. Right after I found Grandma's old diary, I studied her life and that was when I knew she was a convert too. A Muslim.

At first, I was angry and I asked Mom if she knew about it. Surprisingly, the whole family - except me - found out about it, but not after three days since Grandpa left the world.

I wanted to throw those things away - the diary, the Islam's holy book and the hijab -, but somewhere inside my brain screamed DON'T!'. However, I couldn't keep them too since Dad was one strong Catholic man. Therefore, Sheikh Ali became my only solution.

"Aren't you curious about how your Grandma discovered Islam?" questioned Sheikh Ali as he eyed Grandma's properties one by one. "The answers are all inside here," he said, pointing to the diary.

"I'm afraid I'm not," I lied. "Besides, secrets are meant to be kept."

"Well, sooner or later, people will know about it. Secrets can't be buried too long," he said, fingering his beard.

I silenced for awhile. "Curiosity kills the cat," I whispered.

"But satisfaction brought it back."

And he got me.

I opened the diary, and started to read all of Grandma's long life story without missing any pages. Grandma went through many things. She was just as young as me when she was introduced to Islam. She was smart and very faithful, just as I thought. Faith on her only God. But...she got a few flaws.

In the process of going through Grandma's diary, with Sheikh Ali kept lending me his own books, I started to get attracted with Muslim's lifestyle. I could no longer eat or drink freely. I started to wear long and bigger clothes, the kind of clothes where they hide your chests and bums. I even tried to wear a hijab, with the help of Sheikh Ali's kind wife and daughter, Siti Fateen and Siti Zayedah. I kept these all as a secret from Dad, Mom and Aunt Rachel. I kept them well that they never had a clue about it.

It took me four years to know everything about Islam - the backgrounds, the prophets, the warriors, the glory days, the truth - everything and to make the right decision. Of course it all thanks to Sheikh Ali and his family. And exactly on my birthday, I finally voiced out my syahadah and became a true Muslim.