The Hooded Hijabi

Peace: Lost and found

"You can't take your bag in, you know", says a middle aged woman sitting on an old, squeaky chair right outside the door of the mosque.

"Oh yeah, I ..forgot. My bad.", I reply with a nervous smile. Five years. It took me five years to build up the courage to come back to this place. Only thinking of this place somehow brings back the memories that I've been trying to suppress all these years.

I do pray five times a day, recite the Holy Book and make du'a but only in my room. I know that this isn't enough. This doesn't bring back the bond I once had with my Creator. I guess, now that my father is gone, so is the sacred bond; after all baba was the one who helped me get closer to Him. He guided me and taught me how to love my religion and God.

Somehow I feel so far away from Him; as if there is a curtain hiding Him from me. I don't know how to put it into words but I think I once used to feel His Presence. Those moments of true bliss didn't last long. I've forgotten what's it's like to be His Friend. I'm just a person following religious obligations with no inspiration and dedication. Like a job that has to be carried out just for the sake of it.

I walk in the huge room furnished with beautiful wooden separators (to keep the men and women separate), a few plastic chairs here and there, a breathtakingly ravishing chandelier and patterned rugs on the marbled floor.

I pray and recite the Qur'an while zuhr turns into asr, and asr turns into maghrib. Finally I head back home after my maghrib prayer.

But on my way home, I see an abandoned warehouse in a corner of the street and suddenly my whole body becomes stiff and cold. I stop the car midway and stare at the haunting view of the old, dark building.

My grip on the steering wheel tightens as I struggle to breathe. I shut my eyes tightly and begin to sob trying hard to think of something happy.

"Baba! Ice-cream! Ice-cream!", the six year old version of myself demands with a toothless smile.

Baba picks me up and holds me in his arms, smiling brightly at me. "Aye aye, captain! What flavour does my baby want today?", he asks. Baba's dressed in a black T-shirt and a pair of well worn jeans folded at the bottom revealing his ankles. His black beard as long as the size of his fist has a few grey hairs. His friends usually made fun of him, calling him a 'hipster' but baba always waved off the taunts with a laugh.

"Chocolate chips!", I reply with my arms raised in excitement.

Beep! Beep! I hear the sound of cars honking behind me and I snap back into the reality.

I grab the messenger bag lying on the passenger seat and take out an orange, plastic container. I shove out the pills in my hand and swallow one immediately.

A man comes up to my window and knocks angrily. I throw the closed medicine container onto the dashboard and turn to the man. "Sorry, I'll get..going", I speak, breathing heavily in between.

Guessing from the sudden change in his expressions -twitched brows relaxing and then raising- he figured out that something was wrong with me. "Are you okay, ma'am?", the young man asks with a frown.

I nod and change the gear while the man takes a step away from the car. And I drive away without taking another look at the warehouse.

"How was your day?", enquires my mother at the dinner table.

"It was alright. I guess", I reply.

Silence replaces our half-hearted conversation when without realising I blurt out, "I went to the mosque today."

My mother seems surprised at first but then gives me a genuine smile, clearly very pleased with me.

No matter how hard I tried to deny it, going to the mosque had made a difference. I felt at peace. Even if it was only for a few hours, somehow I felt like all the burdens on my shoulder and the pain that gnawed at me was all gone.

Alright, I get Your Sign. You're still looking out for me. I do want to be back but give me time. As I talk to Him I drift into sleep and for the first time in a long time I had no nightmares. Even in my dreams I felt that inner serenity that I had felt in the mosque.

As soon as I wake up I know what I have to change in my routine. I'll be going to the mosque more often. Everyday hopefully.

"Something's getting in the wayy! Something's just about to break! I will try to find my place in the diary of Jane so..." My phone rings but I ignore it for a while until it stops and beeps. A text message from Rachel:
"Where r u? Lecture's bou to start in 5 mins"

I take a quick glance at the time displayed on my phone's screen and I jump right out of bed. Crap!

I struggle through the crowd of seated students and find myself an empty chair at the middle of the hall. The lecture ends on its usual time and I get up to leave when I notice the guy from the other day looking at me again. I look at him questioningly but he merely looks away. Weirdo!

"Are you okay?", Rachel asks as she narrows her eyes at me.

I blink my eyes and reply,"Uh, yeah. Why?"

"You don't..look okay. Did something..happen?", she asks, cautious not to say anything wrong.

Rachel and I had been friends for years. Besides Ali, she's the only one who knows me well. We both know when to offer a hand and when to give the other the space they need.

Rachel doesn't know exactly what happened to me 'that' night and she never pries too much into that part of my life which suits me well since I don't like to talk about it with anyone.

"Oh, I probably didn't sleep well. Um, nightmares, you know. The usual.", I say, giving her a weak smile and then looking away to hide my face that turned pale thinking about the warehouse from yesterday.

Rachel smiles at me and slaps me on my arm, saying,"Looks like somebody has a crush on you."

I follow her eyes that are gazing at the man who just averted his eyes from me.

"What is wrong with him?", I exclaim in exasperation, rolling my eyes.

<End of Chapter 2>