Remembering Shauqina

CHAPTER 14 : Ramadhan Part 1: Presents and Sufism

Ramadhan, which is the fasting month for the Muslims all over the world, is always greeted with double anticipation –all those quiet moments of contemplation and the promise of barakah (God’s Mercy and blessings) for the patient ones. Of course, Ramadhan is also a month of sudden growling of the stomach, especially when you've missed your sahur, the pre-dawn meal. Also, there will be sudden attacks of sleepiness that could be embarrassing at times, if not comical too.

 That day, I not only missed sahur, I also slept quite late - well, you know, completing my terawih (additional night prayers done only in Ramadhan), spending a little bit more time on my sejadah/praying mat than usual. It felt really, really great and calming at that time. But it felt really bad now, for my eyes could not opened  fully, seemingly glued to the base. God! It was recess, and we were encouraged to do solat duha (additional prayers done between 8.30 in the morning until before zuhur prayers) since we were not eating, but I found myself under the big cotton tree, on the bench, looking forlornly at the wooden grains. This big cotton tree is one of a kind, because it has been slated by the government as a historical existence –meaning it is conserved and must not be felled. It is huge and must be at least fifty years old and in about mid June to July, where the weather is the hottest, the cotton tree will be blooming with flowers and of course, the soft fluffy cotton it concealed. Then, when the whole tree is pregnant with these white, pure, cottony flowers, it takes just a soft breeze for the cotton to be blown down and presto! It is snowing in the madrasah! Oh! What a sight it is! It is almost magical and certainly rare. When this happens, lessons come to a standstill – the teachers forgave us – and all of us will watch Allah’s wonder right in front of our eyes. Once, out of nowhere, a seemingly professional looking cameraman was at our school, filming the whole snowy fall. Of course, there is a more sinister side to the cotton tree. But that, is a different story altogether. ..

 I must have fallen asleep that day, for I heard, as if from afar, somebody calling my name and I tried, very, very hard to open my eyes and I think only one obeyed my command. When that eye opened, I looked up to see the smiling face of Zak and I was like thinking why he was here, with me, when I realized he was waking me up! That realization was like an electric shock to me and I shot up from the bench, as if electrocuted. He was laughing now. I actually scowled at him.

            "May I? Sit here?”

              'What? Certainly not! I was waiting for Zafirah!" 

Besides, today was my special day and Zafirah had wanted to meet me. Where was she?

Before I could answer again, he was already sitting right in front of me. I felt the sudden urge to realign my tudung/scarf, for I don't know how long I have doze off and I can’t imagine the state of my tudung. I was right. Zak suddenly turned the other way and as he turned, he pointed to my forehead. I reached up and found myself holding a strand of stubborn curl and I hastily pushed every single strand of hair  back into the cap. I made a move to leave but he put up his palm, in a gesture to stop me. I looked at him and managed to mouthed ‘Are you serious??” of which he smiled pleasantly. Again, I was scowling when I sat back on that bench. He grinned. He surely was in a good mood that Ramadhan morning. I still remember thinking how all the ustazs and ustazahs (religious teachers) would go for our heads if they see us like that. I cleared my throat.

 “Tell me about Sufism. I heard you're the expert.” Zak stated simply.

“I am not. Most certainly am not! But why?”  His request took me by surprise. Big surprise. As far as I know, Zak and the whole contingent of basketballers were not into matters of the mind, much less Sufism.

Zak smiled again.

“Please…” again he stated simply. Was he hiding something behind his back?

Uncomfortable that I was, I was nevertheless intrigued by his interest. You see, Sufism is my favourite subject under the sun. I smiled, despite myself.

“I don’t know much about Sufism. But I do know that I like Sufi sayings..these are wise sayings about life in general and about being close to Allah. (I went red a little. Thinking about Allah left me with a choking feeling.) Sufi is an Arabic word meaning ‘soft’ or ‘gentle’ – so the Sufi is somebody who – er – seek to understand the meaning of life, the wonders of Allah through stories-" I looked up a little hesitatingly at Zak. He seemed to be listening intently and made a signal for me to continue.

"Some of these sufis are like Rumi and Omar Khayyam -both pretty famous in the West. Rumi once said – ‘The man of God is not an expert from a book’. I love their stories and analogies! Some Sufi teachers are scientists in their own right - like  Imam Al-Ghazali. He's a well-known academician as well as a  Sufi Master –“ 

“Oh! Sufi Master….like Yoda, Jedi Master!”

“What - !!!” I managed to suppress a scream. I should have known. He wasn't serious in knowing about Sufism. I was speechless. Idiot, idiot, idiot -oh! That supereme idiotic being named Zakaria!!! I was fuming at him when he said that, but he remained nonchalant, even to the extent of looking quietly arrogant. He seemed to be secretly pleased with himself to see me angry like that.

"Sorry! That was most inappropriate - but the similarity is quite great, don't you think?"

He then chuckled and I stood up, about to walk away when seemingly out of nowhere, Zak, almost shyly, placed a book in front of me. I peered down at the title and almost screamed again - this time, out of pure joy. The innocuous lettering read - 'The way of the Sufi' by one of my favourite writer, ldries Shah. I was beyond delighted! I had been searching for that book for quite some time. I almost grabbed the book  greedily and traced its borders longingly. I had forgiven Zak already.

              "MasyaAllah! Wherever did you get this? How did you know –“ my angst at his idiocy was also  lost for the moment.

Zak was his old, shy and hesitant self.

               'Well...l bumped into Zafirah at Kunikuniya yesterday and well, she was looking for a birthday present for you and I, well, sort of asked her what and she told me. So, here it is...Sorry to have taken your best friend’s present away from you. Err...I also stopped her from coming here - temporarily..."

              He  spoke again, a little shyly, a little unsure. I was holding on to the book for dear life.

              "Syukran..I will return this to you after I finished reading it..."

"No - take it. Maybe one day you will tell me a Sufi story from this book.Happy 16th birthday..."

 He then shot up pretty quickly, face red but smiling and sauntered off towards the school's canteen.

I looked at his retreating back, still holding the book close to my heart. Ramadhan is certainly a month of untold blessings...