Remembering Shauqina

Chapter 20: Please come

CHAPTER 20 : Please come

The days that followed were dreary and passed by rather routinely - like being in a bad dream and never waking up - or waking up to find yourself still in the bad dream. It was torturous and I found myself living a semi existence of being, yet not knowing what was happening around me. I miss him. Such a yearning that struck out of the blue sometimes, or remain like a dull pain in the chest that would not go away. When the yearning struck out of the blue, there would be a sudden frantic urge to hold on to something, like as though that became the portal through which I can get in touch with Zak. I could not and would not visit him. He is not my muhrim. My parents would not permit and my iman, faith in Allah, would not permit as well. I would alternate between praying fervently for his speedy recovery and rebuking myself for putting thoughts of Ithers before thoughts of Allah. lt was a downhill journey for me - I would chastised myself for being so weak only because of a mere human, and not be strong enough to keep only thoughts of Allah in me, as should be. I was hearing but not listening, I was talking but not speaking, I was breathing but not living. I became a weakling in all sense of the words, which was a sort of revelation, for I have always prided in my strength - physically or otherwise. What good which came out of this was that I cried more often on my sejadah/praying mat - the hot tears would come streaming down when I alternate between feelings of mustaq and guiltiness and gratefulness, because out of the whisperings to Allah would flood a sense of relief, of unburdening your secrets finally. I was a mere shell of myself.

It was the seventh day of his absence, as I was walking slowly, the ever loyal Zafirah by my side, when Zainal came approaching our direction. Again, it was Zafirah who noticed and she pulled me rather hard to stop. I did, looked at her, then at the direction of her eyes. I know my eyes suddenly lighted up and felt rather ashamed. Forgive me, Allah...

Zainal rubbed his nose as he stood in front of me, then had his arms akimbo.

"Assalamualaikum! Er..can I talk to you, Eza?"

I nodded my head. Zainal made an indication to Zafirah, who understood and stood quite a distance away, far enough not to hear us talking, but near enough to see me and be my 'chaperon'.

'We went to see Zak yesterday. Finally, he could talk. He is better, Alhamdulillah”.

I was so afraid of tearing that I bit my lips. Alhamdulillah, ya Allah! For fulfilling my prayers.

"He wants to see you."

My eyes grew bigger and I know I was fighting a losing battle with the tears.

"He wants to see you before the operation."

The tears won this time. I could not help it. The tears  came falling, and my tudung felt wet. Zainal seemed so uneasy that he fidgeted right on the spot. However, he continued, his voice quivering a little. It was apparent that he needed to fulfill an obligation, an amanah from his good friend.

"He asked you to get permission from your parents. His mother knew already. His mother can be your chaperon."

I was still crying. I could not answer. No words would come out. None.

"He said you should come today. The operation is tomorrow."

I had a hard time convincing my parents of the need to visit Zak. There was the usual interrogation:

"Zak? Who is Zak?"

"Budak mana tu? "(Never heard of him?)

"How long have you known him?"

"Have you been dating him secretly behind our backs?"

"Is he a madrasah boy or national stream?"

"Dia pandai baca Qur'an tak?" (Does he know how to read the Qur'an well?)

"l WANT to meet his father!!" (I almost cupped my ears on hearing my father’s rare, booming voice).

This nextparticular question can only come from my mother.

"Dia hensem tak?" @#%$!! (Is he handsome?)

I had to stifle the scream in me to patiently, I hoped, explain to my parents that he was a sick schoolmate about to undergo a major operation and he, well, needed to see me. I swallowed hard explaining the last part. It was now my mother’s turn to scream.

"Do you like him or not???"

"Err..."

'Well???"

"Yes."

"Does he like you????"

"Yes, yes....”

"Okay than. That explains it..."

"Afwan mak - explains what?"

"Never mindll You kids, what do you know...Sekilas ikan dilaut, mak tahu jantan betinanya...

(A flash of the fins and I know the fish's gender a.k.a I know what you young people are up to!)

“Okay, okay...Mak will ask your father later to send you there. Wait at your school."

That's Mak for you. She dictates, instructs and conquers.