lodiraisa

'Fi-amanillah.' Hanging up the telephone, Ahmad Musa stretches out on the revolving chair. Exhaustion wears out every inch of his body. Drowsiness creeps into the threshold of his eyes. Suddenly the Muazzin's voice scatters away the dome of silence from above him. The tune of Adhan flows from the tall minaret of Amman's Royal Mosque. 
          	
          	The honey-sweet melody of Adhan reverberates and dissolves in the infinite emptiness of the firmament. The Muazzin reiterates, "Hayya 'Ala as-Salaah". Ahmad Musa's heart goes out to the Muslim community in Jerusalem. Are his brothers and sisters listening to the Adhan the same way? Is the Muazzin being able to relay to them this message without the oppressors constricting his throat? Edges of his eyes become drenched. How far till that golden horizon of freedom? How long until the Muazzin's free and vibrant voice resonates again from the minarets of Tel-Aviv, Haifa, Eilat, Hebron and Jerusalem?
          	
          	The divine brush of daybreak paints the eastern sky bright. Ahmad Musa stands up to perform wudoo. 
          	
          	~~~~~~
          	An excerpt from chapter 8, Operation: Tel Aviv-1
          	
          	To see Palestine liberated is all of our dreams.  The Palestinians are a chosen people, they're the strength of every single oppressed Muslim. We wish we could have taken part in this struggle with them towards the freedom of our first ever Qibla - our beloved Masjid Al Aqsa.
          	
          	While most of us have our hands tied, we can still stand by them by mentioning them in our discourse with our Creator. Allah will surely relieve us from the agony of not having any role to play in this scenario. 
          	
          	Allah already has it all planned out.

Royalty_Reserved

❝ I Had Closed off all avenues to Your grace,
          But then, I found myself at her doorstep, seeking solace and pace.
          And what an astonishment that You made her to heal and renew,
          So with gentle care, she led me back to You. ❞
          
          Salam! If you get time, check it out! You never know, you may find yourself adhering to it! 
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/376182598?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=Royalty_Reserved
          
          If you’re interested in historical fiction, this shall, God Willingly, certainly satisfy your thirst! 
          
          ❝ In Which The Dignified Scholar Was Lured Into The Darkness By The Devil Only To Be Moulded Into A Monsterous Killer ❞
          
          https://www.wattpad.com/story/376230697?utm_source=ios&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details&wp_uname=Royalty_Reserved

adorablefanatic

Hi, hope you're doing good !
          My apologies for posting without your permission but it would mean a lot if you could try giving a chance to either of my stories " Ghost-Struck" which is a mystery filled rom com or " The Eid Cute" and leave your thoughts about them. 
          
          Have an amazing day/night and take care!
          
          P.S. nice to see a fellow Bengali!

lodiraisa

'Fi-amanillah.' Hanging up the telephone, Ahmad Musa stretches out on the revolving chair. Exhaustion wears out every inch of his body. Drowsiness creeps into the threshold of his eyes. Suddenly the Muazzin's voice scatters away the dome of silence from above him. The tune of Adhan flows from the tall minaret of Amman's Royal Mosque. 
          
          The honey-sweet melody of Adhan reverberates and dissolves in the infinite emptiness of the firmament. The Muazzin reiterates, "Hayya 'Ala as-Salaah". Ahmad Musa's heart goes out to the Muslim community in Jerusalem. Are his brothers and sisters listening to the Adhan the same way? Is the Muazzin being able to relay to them this message without the oppressors constricting his throat? Edges of his eyes become drenched. How far till that golden horizon of freedom? How long until the Muazzin's free and vibrant voice resonates again from the minarets of Tel-Aviv, Haifa, Eilat, Hebron and Jerusalem?
          
          The divine brush of daybreak paints the eastern sky bright. Ahmad Musa stands up to perform wudoo. 
          
          ~~~~~~
          An excerpt from chapter 8, Operation: Tel Aviv-1
          
          To see Palestine liberated is all of our dreams.  The Palestinians are a chosen people, they're the strength of every single oppressed Muslim. We wish we could have taken part in this struggle with them towards the freedom of our first ever Qibla - our beloved Masjid Al Aqsa.
          
          While most of us have our hands tied, we can still stand by them by mentioning them in our discourse with our Creator. Allah will surely relieve us from the agony of not having any role to play in this scenario. 
          
          Allah already has it all planned out.

MikeHawkStands

Hello! I recently stumbled upon the story of "Saimum" in your profile. To be honest, I am very interested in the story. 
          
          The question I have is, are you still updating it? Thanks in advance.

MikeHawkStands

@lodiraisa I will try. Thank you very much!
• Reply

lodiraisa

@MikeHawkStands I'm extremely happy to know that Saimum sparked your interest. At this moment I am updating the chapters monthly. 
            
            I hope you have a worthwhile read, and do let me know your feedbacks in the comments.
• Reply

adropofhumanity

a token of kindness [ 18th july 2023 ] 
          
          insecure poems, confident aches; inspired decades yet everyday a death. stretching silences, concrete words; homes that melt and walls that echo. floating feet, rotten flowers; waves that pause in an ocean that seamlessly flows. 
          
          fluttering thoughts, fiddling feelings; coloured mouths and disappearing promises. hibernating lights and travelling darknesses; lingering lilacs and luminescent shadows. 
          
          minds of pearls, mouths of venom; do not lose by playing to their strengths. corridors of history, weaponsied love; transient nor malleable. fragile loneliness, screaming insecurities;  not every sunset has to be colourful. 
          
          sun of rain, thunders of frustration; mornings like amnesia, cloudless burdens. midday pride, repentance heavy; grief stricken victories, blackbird joys. mansions of footsteps, tears of dreams; we are all graves carrying the dying spark of life in us. 
           #adropofhumanity

lodiraisa

@adropofhumanity  that was nicee ♥️ but what do you understand by the last sentence? That we might die anytime?
• Reply