ON HOLD The perks of being a Hafizah

Just an odd day in the life of Yahya

بسم الله ....
Yahya's POV
My back began to ache as i hunched over glaring at the Ground while I began reciting verses of the Quran to my Moulana; Dhor (revision) time.
It was intense, seeing as I had missed so many days and it wasn't questionable that all the days that I had missed I had to finally make up; as a huge chunk, but it's intensity was exciting.
It was the Quran......the book of Allah, the very words of the creator the sustainer the maker the destroyer the merciful who had even granted the permission of his words to dwell within my heart and soul, my very conscious that felt so alive when the words came out, it's essence didn't leave anyone not intrigued and full of curiosity and thought.
And it wasn't long...about 45 minutes to reread 3 sipara (chapters) of the Quran and as I let the last words leave my tongue and linger an aftertaste of thought, I gazed above at the moulana; face bright as a full lit moon, smile as comforting as a fire in a winters day.
"Well done Yahya.....may Allah swt grant you jannah and intersession from the very words that you recite"
His eyes looked deeply towards me in mercy and compassion.
"Jizakallahukhayrun moulana, wa iyyakum" I smiled back and in complete happiness and thankfulness.
"In Sha Allah, I do expect a sipara a day"
He peeled off my bookmark on my Quran and skipped a sipara and placed it at the end of the 4th sipara.
"Ana afham (I understand)"
"Bro you got like once sipara to do dhor of? Man gave me 2 ! Can you believe it! This is crazy things absolutely crazy" behind me sat Mubarak, a boy around the age of 14, tall and quite....high.
"Man gave you two? Do you mean Moulana gave you two?" I spurted out while getting up from my space.
"He's right Yahyah, "man" gives him two. At least he is aware of his genders let alone his difference between fingers and toes"
Another student began laughing hysterically in the classroom.
"Naaaaah man that was peak times! Man was like you know....oh you do masah of your toes and Moulana like where are your toes and you were like on your fingers"
The ads erupted in a low laughter and I sat.....quite out of place of what had happened before.
"What?" I looked towards Moulana.
"Oh no need to worry, it was in Islamic classes last week...someone thought toes grow on fingers"

The class burst out in laughter and chatter and it took the Mohammad to clear his throat that the class became silent.

"Assalam" I directed at everyone.

"Walaykumsalam" a low roar came.

I walked out of the classroom clearly confused by the prospect and made my way out of the masjid.

But there wasn't a clear pathway to exit the masjid.....and child was sat at the footsteps of the exit of the masjid hunched over himself.

"Hello?" I slowly let out a greeting to this little child who faced me in despair.

And it wasn't long, after he had digested who I was that he burst out with a painful sob:
"My mom hasn't come to pick me up yet" each word was followed by a hiccuping sound tuned with a screech where the words he had said sat.

"What is your name?" I hitched up my abaya and sat next to the little boy on the cold marble stairs reflecting the windy and cold weather.

He looked into my eyes deeply and squeaked his name: "Mu'min". His eyes were sore read brimmed with tears as he looked in both directions for his mothers arrival.

I tapped his shoulder slightly.

"That's my name too!" I smiled at the boy who looked back emotionless.

"Really?" He looked searchingly.

"Kind of. I wish to be a Mu'min" I nodded my head in assurance at this poor boy.

"I guess you are in Moulana Ismael's class" I pointed at his masjid bag where "Moulana Ismael" was written primitively "into" the box on his masjid bag.

"Oh no not any more I have moved up a class" he looked at me more assuringly to talk.

"Where is your bag?" He asked me looking at my hands that wrapped around my Quran.

"I carry my Quran in my hand near my heart, where it belongs" I said quite wisely.

"Well that's silly! You just put
It into a bag and carry it" he began to let out a small laugh.

"We'll I guess I might be silly..or I don't trust the bag to hold my Quran" I raised my eye brows and the gorgeous child.

"Your silly!" He laughed harder at me, his eyes glistening from the tears, his dimples deeply etched into his cheeks.

I stuck my tongue out at him and blew a raspberry.

"Your funny!" He poked me on my arm.

"Ooww" i rubbed my arm profusely accentuating the 'awful' pain and excruciating agony I was in.

"I'm sorry" he said trying to stop laughing.

"That's naughty Mumin" I said to him while raising my eye brows.

"Ooh can I feel your beard?"

Feel my beard?

"You have to grow a beard to feel one Mu'min" I grabbed hold of part of my beard protectively.

"Mu'min!" A voice shouted towards our direction; it was Mu'min's mother.....and Abu Bakr's.....and Anatullah's. My mouth dropped of surprise, utterly dumbfounded at who he was. He was Amatullah's brother.

"Mama mama! Can I have a beard!" Mu'min's shouted at his mother.

"Yes you should ask that boy for some" his mother pointed towards me. And at that moment I began to blush causing me to exit back into the masjid almost immediately.

YA Allah!

********
Assalam!
Yes a weird update and not much happens! I wish to do this type of chapter to bring you back into the book with my upcoming updates that should follow after the two days I have left of exams. I hope I have smoothly brought you back into this book despite the awfully long wait!
Please do pray for the success of my exams and all those who had to go through this awful manifestation that had quite intentionally fall upon us; it's not as if we knocked on the door of the Board of Education asking for exams.
But nonetheless, please do comment if you would like a mini overview chapter just to refresh what has happened to recover from the awful break!
I wish you all Jannah and happiness in sha Allah!
Please forgive me also!x
Wassalam x