Love me, Love my Lord (Complete√)

Chapter 4 (Edited)

HIS POV:

I walked out of the mosque, a sense of serenity and peace filling me. The mosque was located at the far edge of the road and you could hardly see it. I made my way to Chachoo's bike that I had borrowed. May Allah bless Chachoo. He had always helped me out even in the smallest of things. As I reached the parking lot, I saw an awfully familiar face.

A frown formed on my face and I groaned. Two days in a row! Romma was standing there as if she was waiting for someone. She waved at me as she spotted me. I pretended that I didn't see her there. I could see her stomp her foot on the ground angrily as she saw that I was trying to ignore her. She stormed towards me.

"Well, what a lucky day. I was just thinking of coming to you." She said. I hummed in response, fiddling with keys trying to find the bike key. She then looked at me for a moment and thought about something. "I need your help, Waqqar. Can I talk to you?" She asked, a hint of seriousness in her tone.

Her sincere words caught me a bit off guard so I looked up at her. I thought about it twice and nodded hesitantly. "It better be something worth my time." I warned her. She nodded. "It is, but I need you to listen to me carefully. This might take a while." She told me.

I wasn't really keen on that. But, it was rare to see Romma talk seriously for once. And so, I agreed. "Let's talk in that shop. What about it?" She suggested. I shook my head. "Here is fine." I told her. She looked up at the sky. "It's getting a little chilly here. And I didn't come prepared. Let's go!" She insisted.

I didn't exactly fancy the idea of going into a coffee shop with a non mehrem like Romma but I had to agree since she practically begged me with her eyes.

Once we settled down in the warm and cozy seats, I examined my surroundings. It was a small shop with simple furniture. It was exactly my type. The atmosphere was warm which made it even better.

"So, let's talk about business." Romma announced, folding her arms over her chest. I nodded as I wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

She started, "This morning when I was at the park for a little jog, I met this girl. She stopped me and asked me whether I knew any Muslims. When I told her I was one, she got really excited and started asking me all sorts of questions," Romma laughed a little at the thought before she continued, 

"Her questions made perfect sense and it felt as if she was just spelling out my thoughts. I promised her that I'd get someone reliable to answer them. We even exchanged numbers." Romma paused, looking up at me with one eye. I raised an eyebrow at her. "That's good and all, but what's that got to do with me?" I asked, starting to feel interested. 

Romma pointed at me with her finger. "You know everything about Islam. Since her questiones got me wondering about things too, I figured you'd be the best person to ask." she explained, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

It got me feeling happy that Allah had finally made a way for Romma to at least look for answers.

I shot her a smile back. "Well, I don't exactly know everything about Islam but I'll try." I admitted, rubbing the back of my head. She gave me a thumbs up. "Great. We should get started then, right?" she looked at me for an answer.

I nodded, a little excited. "Okay, so what're your questions?" I asked her. "I've always wanted to know—and this question is on everyone's mind," she added before continuing. "Allah has ordered women to cover themselves up and it's a direct order. We even read it in the Quran. So my question is, why do women have to cover themselves up? When did it become our responsibility? I get that Allah did this for a particular reason but why only us? Don't men have to do anything?" she stopped, a frown on her face.

I realized she was taking this seriously and I could see that it was something she had on her mind for a while.

I smiled at her. It was such a typical question and with all this new feminist thing going on, it was growing. "Many people ask this question because obviously they haven't read the Quran." I shook my head in disbelief with a little smile.

"And for those who say Allah has ordered only women, that is totally wrong. In fact, in the Quran, Allah orders men to lower their gaze before he reveals the ayah which orders women to cover themselves up. In surah Nur, verse number 30 and 31, that is the case."

Romma tried to process my words, frowing deeply as if lost in thought. She then regained her posture and cleared her throat. "Wow, I never knew that." she admitted. "Hope that answers your question." I said and she nodded in reply.

"I... Finally understand a bit. But I still don't know why! Why didn't Allah just create men in a way that they won't have these bad intentions?" She questioned. "That's because it's a test. For both a man and a woman. Allah wants to see if the man would lower his gaze for his lord and to see if a woman obeys Allah and covers herself up to protect herself." I simply replied.

Romma got quiet. "The other thing is that Allah allows a Muslim husband to beat his wife. It's written in the Quran itself." She stated in a 'matter of fact' kind of tone. I started, "That's another misconception. It's not written like that. To understand the whole meaning, you have to read the verses that follow after that verse. Yes, a man can hit his wife. But there are certain conditions that change the whole perspective that many people have.

When a person's wife cheats on him, he's got to make her understand and try to reason with her. If she doesn't change her ways, he's supposed to stay away from her and give her a kind of cold shoulder. Even after that if she doesn't change herself, her husband has the right to hit her."

I could see the unpleased look on Romma's face. As if she knew it was right but didn't want to accept it. "But, hitting a woman is wrong in so many ways!" she protested. I smiled a little. "There are conditions for that too, Romma." I said.

She stopped to look at me, motioning me to continue. "You can't hit your wife if a bruise will form. Neither can you hit her on the head or on the face. You see, even hitting her isn't like beating her. It's more like a warning."

Romma nodded. "I guess that's fair." She said.