Chasing Down The Day Dream

Of endings and beginnings

Dedicated to @ladyhoneysuckle because I love her to the moon and back. And because she's the most supportive girl friend anyone could ever have <3

"Because there is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away."

-Sarah Kay, B

She wakes up at precisely the same time everyday. A methodical being of the night, she has always preferred the silence of the night to the chaos of the day.

When the moon is still halfway in handing the reign back to the sun, her day begins because she needs to hear her own voice before it gets lost amid the white noise that mornings bring. The circadian clock ticking away in her body is faithfully submissive. She is a creature of habit, leeching off of check notes and to-do lists.

Wide awake and eyes staring at the fan, she whispers a thank you. She had not thought that she would wake up on time today; the previous day had been exhausting to say the least, with countless phone calls and sweet boxes- the usual festivities that follow a graduation result.

Dr. Rania Khan.

The words are still echoing in her mind, loud and clear and in the darkness of her room, formidable as ever before. She wipes drool from her face. There will be time for this later, she thinks.

She covers the distance to her bathroom in four perfect strides, her long legs accustomed to the feel of the cold floor. Another alarm starts, and Mishary's voice fills her room with serenity. She makes ablution, walks out and hits dismiss.

The prayer mat is still lying on the floor from last night, when all she could go was pray 'Isha and crash. She smoothens the creases, tucks her loose strands in her headscarf and says Takbir.

Not a single soul has ever seen her pray her Tahajjud; she likes to have these moments to herself behind locked doors. This is her comfort zone and she is possessive about all of it. She recites loudly, her voice thin and non-hesitant. She fumbles a line or two, as would anyone with a newly memorized surah. She makes qiyam long and fruitful, pausing over newly learnt tajweed and stretching the letters till she's breathless.

She's still learning how to recite in that fluid manner that comes so easily to Mishary and the likes. She struggles to concentrate in between, her mind traitorously wandering over to yesterday's events. She clenches her jaw, imagines a veil and a blinding light and just like that, she's lost into her prayer.

It is only when she finishes it, does she allow herself to think back onto what had happened the previous day. The announcement that the final year medical results had come out after much anticipation, the way her heart had constricted inside, the way she put her fingers in her ears unwilling to listen to the marks her brother was reading out, the faint sound of distinction hitting her eardrum nevertheless and the way the whole house had erupted with Alhumdulillahs and Allahu Akbars.

She remembers going numb from the news. There is no right way to take it-the news of finally graduating medical school. Her face was betraying her, her words failing her but no one really noticed as she was attacked with hugs and kisses from all directions.

She has not been able to come to terms with it until this moment.

Dr. Rania Khan, she breathes. 

She has never liked being called a doctor so early in her medical career. It came with too many expectations that she found herself acutely lacking in. It had sounded a great deal nicer when addressed in a future tense, but to finally face it, own it, wear it was beyond overwhelming.