What the hay…!

A lot has been going on recently. A very dear ”A” of mine recently got Nikkahed very suddenly. I was really happy for her and still am, for I really like her guy (I know him). But then this huge controversy,conspiracies, wild rumors, white lies, spread like wildfire in my very well-connected and extremely peace-loving family and I was left stunned as to who to believe and what. I, too, (I’m very regretful to say) got carried away in the beginning and discussed the rumors exhaustively. I revelled in the idea of being thoroughly misled and deceived by a certain someone, obviously enjoying the idea of being the innocent victim who is so good she can’t see the dark side of other people. I may be exaggerating how I was feeling here but tis the gist. I was, though, scared the entire time, knowing I was doing Gumaan about other people and putting unwarranted Buhtaan but still not stopping myself. Later that night, I sought forgiveness from Allah. I sat and thought about the entire matter with a clear objective head and I decided to give the benefit of the doubt to the person I thought I knew so well. I decided to trust my own judgement of her (though some people and Certain Someones would readily not!) and I decided to accept her as innocent until proven guilty.

Today I’m proud of my choice.

Neway, this was the hot topic in my life for a few days. After that came the blessed happiness of the darn passport of Hub dearest. Lol. It finally arrived Al-Hamdulillah after months and weeks and days and mornings and tahajjud times and rozas and hours of waiting. Allah finally blessed me with what I, my family, my husband, my relatives, all had been pleading, and begging and fighting and supplicating for. Lol. Last night he left. InshaAllah he will be working in a few dayz Al-Hamdulillah.

I talked to his mother today. She seemed upset, a bit lonely and worried that he reach there safe and sound. I was discussing with her how things are now tht he has left and she said that of course the house feels empty and lonely, his brothers and sister seem very quiet today, but everything will be fine in a few days as they gradually adjust to his absence.

While talking to her and afterwards, I was thinking how adaptable  man is! Allah has created us in such a way that we all learn to survive with or without Significant Someones. Though the thought kills before the actual absence occurs, but after it does, life seems to take a new turn and keep moving. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t mean we ever forget our Significant Someones and loved ones. We just learn to live without their phyical presences. If somebody else chooses to let go of old memories, that’s their way, but I am made to cling onto old memories and keep hoping and praying for new ones.

But still! I can’t keep wondering at how dispensable man is! I’m not referring to how dispensable human life has become. It is a different issue that we have become totally immune to the losses of human life, be they great in number  or  totally ‘insignificant’, but the truth is that they have ceased to affect us in any way. I remember a time when my heart used to sink at the news of a single person dying, when I used to give a full few minutes to imagine how his/her family must be taking it, how it must have felt, what would be happening to him/her now. But everyday now I hear about various suicide bombings, bridges falling, people dying and I don’t even pay full attention to the Breaking news.

Neway, though all this is important of course, right now I was referring ot the way man himself is dispensable. When a beloved lives, we cry at the very thought of ever being separate from that person geographically. And then if Death comes wheezing in and sweeping away everything that remained, we cry a few buckets and then keep on living. Finally a time comes when we think that that person, and the portions of our lives with that person, never existed-as if it was all a dream.

I have discussed my own death with a lot of people. I know the ones who will be tortured by my death, and the ones whose eyes will pop out at hearing bout it but probably not give me a dua after the “hot news” dies down a week later. And I realize there will be a few who will quietly wipe their tears under the covers at night, afraid of coming out in front of everybody to grieve over my death, revealing that they, too, had cared for me while I was alive. Most probably, if I will be told after my death, that these people cried, I will go in profound shock.

Life is very funny…even funnier is death,which kicks out all the humor of life and settles in with its perpetual darkness (or light, hopefully!) 

As usual, I have much strayed from the topic I started off with. But at least I’ve penned down my musings on digital paper after a long time so all’s good!

I wish I knew how to end this post…lets just do a summary..A’s Nikkah, my treachery, Uzers passport, his mom, suicide bombings, dispensability of man and human life, my death and my secret well-wishers!

Now am I a versatile writer or what???

MAN!

This is a very old newspaper article. Its by Kay Jardine, The Herald, March 8 2002, CE. I found it on the site www.thetruereligion.org.

Even though its very old, I’m still posting it up here. The comments by the reverts are just simply amazing!

I feel so sad! I knew reverts had a better understanding of the Deen than most of born Muslims. I wish I could make the entire LGS and BNU read this. *sniff*

Western women are turning to Islam in rapidly increasing numbers. KAY JARDINE discovers why they are so keen to become Muslims.

 Bullying, depression, and insomnia made Kimberley McCrindle’s teenage years particularly difficult. Taunts from classmates about her weight and how she looked left the 19-year-old student feeling like she didn’t really fit in, and always searching for something that would make her feel happy, that would make her feel she belonged. McCrindle, from a family of atheists, did not encounter religion until she began religious studies at high school in Penicuik, when her new interest prompted her to start going to her local church on Sundays. But the peace and happiness McCrindle was looking for eluded her until she started college in Edinburgh, where she made friends with some Muslim people and discovered Islam.

“I was looking for peace,” she says. “I’d had a rough past. My teenage years weren’t great: I was bullied at school, people called me fat and ugly, and I was looking for something to make me happy. I tried to go to church once a week but I wouldn’t class myself a Christian; I was just interested. But it wasn’t for me, I didn’t feel in place there.

“When you walk into a mosque you feel really peaceful. Praying five times a day is really focused. It gives you a purpose in your life. The Koran is like a guide to help you: when you read it, it makes you feel better.”

McCrindle became a Muslim three years ago and is now known by her married Arabic name, Tasnim Salih. She is one of a rapidly increasing number of British women turning to Islam, thought to be the fastest growing religion in the world. Although there are no official figures on the subject, there is no doubt that the number of converts is on the rise and the majority are women, according to Nicole Bourque, a senior lecturer in social anthropology at Glasgow University and an expert in conversion to Islam in Britain.

“There are people converting all the time,” she says. “I would estimate that there are probably around 200 converts to Islam in Glasgow alone, but that’s just a rough estimate. The data is difficult to acquire.”

Other estimates put the Glasgow figure closer to 500. Mohammad Faroghul-Quadri, imam at the Khazra mosque in
Glasgow, says that whichever religion people choose to reach God, whether it’s Christianity or Islam or something else, the important thing is that they are getting peace of mind and heart, and proper guidance from God.^[1]

The appeal of Islam to liberated western women is difficult for many to understand, largely because of the widespread perception in the west that it treats women badly. A forthcoming documentary, Mum I’m a Muslim, addresses this very issue by talking to converts in Sheffield about their experiences.

At a preview in Glasgow, I asked a group of converts from Glasgow and Edinburgh what motivated them to change every aspect of their lives, including their names, to become Muslim. For 27-year-old Bahiya Malik, or Lucy Norris to her parents, it’s difficult to explain. Bahiya, who lives in Edinburgh, her twin sister, Victoria, and their brother, Matthew, grew up as practising Christians in a rural area in the West Midlands, where they attended Sunday school in the little church at the top of their road. As they got older, the three stopped going to church and seven years ago, at the age of 20, both Bahiya and her sister converted to Islam - six months after their brother.

“Maybe all through our teenage years we hadn’t been that happy. I can’t really say what it was. I don’t know if we felt there was something missing or that we didn’t fit in. We were a little bit shy and we weren’t really outgoing sort of people,” she says.

At the time, Bahiya was two years into a media and television course in Edinburgh but was feeling uninspired. After around six months of learning about Islam, Bahiya realised that living her life according to the rules of Islam was what would make her happy and, during an emotional visit to a mosque in
London, made her declaration of faith.

 “I think it’s something you feel in your heart, this pull,” she says. “You can’t really put it into words. It’s like your heart speaking, something you feel inside and you know it’s for you. Allah has chosen this for you, it’s out of your power.”

Women who turn to Islam are aware of the widespread western perception that they are oppressed and discriminated against, but insist that the depiction is a false image. For many it is a spiritual journey, which, far from repressing them, improves their social status and gives them new rights.

“You seem to be really looked after,” says Tasnim. “As a Muslim woman, Muslim men really respect you; they do everything for you. You’re highly thought of and protected.” Bahiya says: “I feel that because you cover yourself up you’re not seen as a sex symbol, and because people can’t judge you on your appearance, they have to judge you as a human being. That’s quite liberating.”

As an act of modesty, many Muslim women don’t wear make up outside the home and it is often a part of their old life that new female converts are happy to discard because of the liberating feeling that comes from knowing their appearance doesn’t matter. They resist being shown as they were before their conversion.

 Hafsa Hashmi, who lives in Glasgow, converted to Islam 24 years ago and felt life outside Islam was like having to “keep up with the Joneses”. Under Islam, however, she says: “Your aim is not for this life, your aim is for the afterlife. To some people that sounds pretty horrific: they can’t think about death, but in Islam belief in the afterlife is one of its main features, because you know if you’re doing the right thing you’ve got a better life to come. So why go for all the material things?”

Converting to Islam usually means a complete change of lifestyle for those who take the plunge, including a different diet, often a new Arabic name, and your time revolving around the five daily Islamic prayers. In the workplace, some people organise with their employer a room where they can have some peace and quiet to pray. Wherever they are in the world, all Muslims face in the direction of the Kab’aa, or the Holy House in
Mecca, Saudi Arabia, during prayer.

For female converts, the experience can also involve a quite dramatic change in appearance. Muslim law provides that women must dress modestly. The hijab, or the head scarf, is a particular focal point and can be a tricky area for new Muslim women to deal with. Dr Bourque suggests this is because it is such a visible symbol of the faith. Tasnim wore the hijab straight away, although she found wearing it in public scary at first because she felt people were looking at her. She was then forced to take it off when she was out because of some of the comments directed at her. “People would shout, ‘Go back home to your own country’. I had someone spit at me once when I was standing at the bus stop at college.”

Now, though, she wears it all the time and says: “People don’t say anything to me now and I feel more confident about wearing it.” Bahiya was happy wearing the hijab from the beginning, but her parents found it quite difficult. She says her sister, her brother, and herself were lucky because their parents were “quite good” about their conversion.

For others, however, families are not always so accepting, often because they know little about the religion and why their loved ones want to follow it. For Tasnim, telling her parents, who are atheist, was nerve-wracking. “They thought I was going through a phase at first but they realised when I started wearing the hijab that I was serious. They started getting angry when I began to talk about getting married. They weren’t too pleased that I’d met someone older than me, who was Muslim as well, and a different nationality.” While Tasnim and her mother are still close and enjoy a good relationship, they tend not to talk about her faith much. She and her father no longer speak.

For Hafsa, telling her parents 24 years ago was perhaps even more difficult because converting to Islam then was anything but a common occurrence. The reactions of her parents were totally opposite. “I think my mother felt that I was only becoming a Muslim because of who I was marrying, but that wasn’t the case because I had been introduced to Islam about four years previously although I didn’t convert until I got married. It took her practically her whole life to get over it. When we got married, my mum said, ‘If you’re happy, I’m happy’, but obviously she wasn’t. My dad said it and he meant it, that was the difference between them.”

Tasnim has been married to Sabir, who is Sudanese, for two years, and says she has never been happier. “I met my husband at college and it seemed like the right thing to do. I was teaching him English and he was talking to me about Islam, and we just fell in love,” she says. Bahiya’s husband, Sharafuddin, is also is also a convert, formerly known as Cameron. They have two children, aged two and four.

For Tasnim, Bahiya, and Hafsa, life revolves around the five daily prayers, they cannot eat certain foods, or drink alcohol. But the women say they miss nothing from the days before they converted to Islam. “Islam is enough for me,” says Bahiya. “You don’t need anything else once you’ve found it.” Becoming Muslim has provided Tasnim with the happiness and belonging she was looking for. “It’s a complete change in your attitude, behaviour, and the way you think,” she says. “I’m now more confident, happy and satisfied. I’ve achieved the fulfilment I was looking for.”

Source: http://www.theherald.co.uk/perspective/archive/8-3-19102-21-6-52.html

Notes

[1] This is a a false statement. The only religion acceptable to Allah - the one which leads to true guidance and peace, is Islam: “Whoever seeks a religion other than Islam, it will never be accepted from him and in the Hereafter he will be one of the losers” [Qur'an 3:85]

LOL! To tell you the truth, I started off the previous post with the intention of discussing my interest in Yusuf Islam. Lol. But it somehow went on to my interest in music and hence the entire post.

BASICALLY, what I wanted to tell, when I mentioned nasheeds was that Yusuf Islam and the story of his reversion and his nasheeds all really inspire me. But right before I left for Hajj, I found out that he had released a new album and has again fully associated himself with his previous identity as a singer and songwriter. I was very upset and actually prayed for him during Hajj. On the day of Arafat. Imagine. lol.

Now that I’m back, I have started researching on him. Especially on his explanation of why he has returned to music.

I’m a bit confused. His explanation makes sense. A lot of sense, sometimes. And it also coincides with the belief of my ideal, my brother.

I have to admit I’m terribly flustered. Lol.

Anyway, my research is still on and InshAllah I will satisfy myself with the best explanation soon.

Meanwhile, you people read this thing which I really liked on a site of Yusuf Islam.

Spiritual Journey: One Beginning. 

Everybody who comes into the world has to make sense of it for their own security and peace of mind. The Universe is a very big place, and it’s easy to get lost. I was no different. The Universe consists of billions of galaxies and each galaxy has an uncountable number of stars. This alone should be enough for us to ponder. Yet in addition to the vast expanding heavens, we observe the radiance of the earth and its kaleidoscope of creatures, colors and ecological patterns, in harmony with the motions of the sun and moon.

As we look more deeply at the scale of things above and below us - seas, mountains and the grandeur of the heavenly skies – we are forced to question our own existence. Because we have minds and the ability to question, certainly everybody has sufficient reason to ask themselves what it all means?
In recent decades physicists, in their pursuit of scientific truths, have unearthed a hidden order in nature; some have called it the Cosmic Code. Based on this order, scientists aim to uncover a grand unifying Theory of Everything. If ever this order is decoded, it is envisioned by some that all fields of knowledge could be linked together. In view of this astounding possibility, world renowned physicists have commented:“If we do discover a complete theory, it should in time be understandable in broad principle by everyone, not just a few scientists. Then we shall all, philosophers, scientists and just ordinary people, be able to take part in the discussion of why it is that we and the universe exist. If we find the answer to that, it would be the ultimate triumph of human reason- for then we would truly know the mind of God.” (Stephen W. Hawking, A Brief History of Time, 198

Many scientist have concluded that, according to the laws of nature and the unimaginable number of coincidences which must have united together connecting an infinite amount of molecules and unique elements to generate and form what we call ‘life’, everything seems to point one way. Their conclusion proves one thing: how impossible the existence of this immeasurable universe would be without certain constants. It is precisely because of the vital existence of these ‘constants’ or universal laws that everything in the cosmos balances and holds together.To summarize this in simple terms, without an overall singular design - supported by universal constants, there would be nothing to see, no one to see it - let alone sit around and talk about it.

The centrality of this original source is observed by the uniformity in the workings of these forces of nature all through the universe; the common origin of everything in the universe and the blueprint of life all across the species. Combine this with the generally accepted theory of the Big Bang, that mysterious moment in non-time when the universe started to exist, and we end up talking about singularity – or oneness. It now becomes necessary to analyse the implication of this information.

Do not the deniers see that the heavens and the earth were [once] one single unity, which We then ripped apart? And that We made out of water every living thing? {The Holy Qur’an, Al-Anbia (The Prophets) 21:30}

What such realities signify to people of faith is acceptance, in scientific terms, of the presence of Intelligent Design: in other words – GOD (Allah).

Although some rational minds may choose to reject the implications of a Divine Design, the evidence of life starting from a point of unity (oneness) is undeniable. Yet an alternative answer to life’s puzzle has never been agreed between them. Therefore it is left up to a person’s conscience to choose what he prefers to believe.

The conscience itself is probably the most vital characteristic of being human. We often refer to this aspect as ‘morality’ or ‘spirituality’. And it is the amazing spiritual nature of humanity, which makes us unique - and also makes us accountable. It is the inner discussion with the self, which distinguishes the human being from the animals.

Regardless of where a person’s conscience asks him or her to look - if guided - a seeker of truth will inevitably find a mysterious door leading to God. Even the greatest scientists repeatedly confirmed their ultimate wish to know the ‘Mind of God’. Their journey towards unravelling the mysteries of the universe is usually sparked by a common desire: to know what lies behind the unseen and makes it work. As the renowned scientist and father of the atomic age is reported to have said, “I want to know God’s thoughts; the rest are details.” (Albert Einstein)

If a person reaches the gate of knowledge to the unseen, he or she will discover the ultimate purpose of existence, and thus fulfil the need to worship by knowing Him and obeying the Divine Inspiration sent by Him. This is basically the meaning of Islam: surrender to the One sole Originator and Sustainer of the Universe (Allah).

I have always been very interested in hearing the stories of reverts of Islam. Partly, it’s to know how Allah gave hidayat to different people in different ways, and partly it’s to shake my own conscience. Normally, I think, reverts are so much better than us born Muslims, in terms of knowledge and practice of the Deen. (It may not be true, but that’s what I think.)

From quite some time, I have been trying to give up music for good. Al-Hamdulillah, I have, to a certain extent. As in, I, myself, have stopped listening to music but that’s a different thing that music is playing in my house 24/7.

I was once a music freak. I used to love listening to music, I used to sing myself, I actually used to once wish that I’d start singing professionally one day. (Lol!) Because I used to sing myself, I knew a bit of the technicalities of desi music. The sur and the taal, the beat and the pitches and God knows what else. I used to love music. Correction: I still love music. (No point in lying!)

The funny part is, I didn’t find it difficult at all to leave music. I mean, I think Allah had prepared me so well for it (or I have taken so much time in finally taking the decision!), that when the time came when I just stood my ground and told myself, “That’s it! No more music!” it wasn’t difficult for me at all, Al-Hamdulillah.

But Allah always opens new doors to relief and ease for me, Al-Hamdulillah. During the days when  I was trying to leave music, a little cousin of mine came to my rescue. (Incidently, she’s the one who introduced me to that Ahmed Bukhatir’s Last Breath.)

She gifted me with this cassette, “Bismillah,” a collection of nasheeds by ‘Yusuf Islam & Friends.’ That sparked my interest in this non-musical genre of music.

During the Hajj trip, there would be times when I would fall prey to stupid Satan’s temptations and would wanna hum something sweet and melodious.*rolling eyes* Those would be the times when I would turn to my cell phone and listen to Zain Bhikha’s “Give Thanks to Allah,” which my blessed Sister-in-law had transferred on my newly-gifted cell phone seconds before leaving Lahore.

I guess it was basically during the Hajj trip that I got addicted to nasheeds. Even though I only had a few(”Give Thanks to Allah” and a few Qari Waheed Zafar Qazmi’s), I would never get bored of them.

Ever since I have come back, there’s only one thing I do the entire day: listen to nasheeds. It’s fun and it’s relaxing. Best of all, it’s safe.

But sometimes when I listen to nasheeds, I realize they have pretty much the same effect other songs had on me. Umm…lets not say, the same effect, but at least a similar one.

Mostly, nasheeds inspire me and bring a smile on my face for no reason. My SIL has noticed that and thinks I’m crazy. Lol. But it’s true. I guess I find most of them so soothing, a smile automatically plays on my face.

But there are certain times when I would suddenly get all excited and hyper after listening to a nasheed. Pretty much the same way as I used to when I used to listen to some great song. Other times I would sit and wonder how beautiful the voice of the singer is. Lol. And then, finally there’s this single nasheed which really creates a storm inside me. I have no idea why. Like I would listen to it and something would be rising inside me. An upheaval. It upsets me too, and it sets me to thinking about things I, maybe, do not want to think.

I think it’s because of its tune.

But that’s how it used to be with songs as well. (???)

Sometimes I wonder where the difference lies.

But then I can see a great many differences, too. Nasheeds are all about remembering and glorifying Allah(Swt) and/or singing the praises and sending durood to Prophet Mohammad (Peace be upon him.) I guess that’s why I find them soothing and that’s why they bring a smile on my face.

So if nothing else, at least I’m not listening to Atif Aslam FOREVER wailing about his long-lost love’s eyelashes which he wants to connect to his eyelashes (?!!) or to some wahiyat dance song or to some  unbelievably, horribly depressing song which would seek out some, something in my entire being to get depressed about. Ugh!

In my moments of stupid pride, I think maybe I find nasheeds a bit difficult (because of how they, too, affect my emotions and moods) because I used to know about, and was conscious of the beats and the tones and the sur which I knew affected the moods and played with the feelings. Or so I think.

I have no idea why I opened this window and started writing. I mean, there are plenty of things which I know I can write about, which can prove to be very amusing, interesting and thought-provoking for you. But right now, I’m not in the mood to discuss any of those things. Maybe later.

Umm…I’m not sure what I should write right now. I’m not really in an inspired mood right now so don’t wanna write about religion really. But I guess I should. I have been witnessing so many weird things and meeting so many weird people, it’s really remarkable.

There’s this guy at my university. Excellent writer, MashAllah. I’m seriously a huge fan of his writing. I mean, coming from a guy studying at BNU, wouldn’t you fall for this line, “I paid for the drink, and I paid for drinking it.” I know it doesn’t sound like much here but I really like his writing.

But then, there he goes around writing this story about him screwing Satan. Literally.

Then, when I go ask him why in the world he submitted such a story for our final AOS exam, he starts telling me a bit about himself. “I was once very much into Satanism.”

Apparently, he used to listen to death metal (am i right in saying that’s the one which has elements of satan worship in it?), was deeply interested in cults and God-knows-what-else. Al-Hamdulillah, something happened and he came to his senses.

And here I am, thinking about that guy ever since I have talked to him. I mean, why is it that so much of the youth today is so disillusioned, disheartened by Allah (Naoozobillah!) and attracted towards atheism or worse, “Satanism?”

I mean, is it because people are so impatient that once they ask something from Allah and He doesn’t grant it, they lose all faith and trust in Him? Or is it because, Al-Hamdulillah, I have seen a relatively simple life so I don’t know what circumstances lead to a person rejecting/doubting the religion he was born in?

Obviously, I’m not judging him here, nor will I ever do it, InshAllah. I’m really, really happy that he is back on the straight path, MashAllah, and I pray he remains so forever InshAllah.

Ironically, he was the only guy of my university who actually came up and said he wanted to write duas in my diary which I’m taking with me for Hajj inshAllah. And MashAllah, his duas are one of the best, sweetest and most religion-based duas of all duas that came from BNU-ite friends.

But I just can’t stop wondering what had happened to actually make him do all that?

I mean, when I was talking to him, I was thinking, go on, keep talking, tell me about your life so that I can know how and why you moved away from Deen and into something so different. Keep talking.

But I neither got a chance to talk to him for long, nor, I’m sure, he would have told me as it was the first time we were ever talking.

All this breaks my heart. It’s just sad.

I mean, it’s not only H I’m talking about here, my friend Z, was just telling me about some friend of hers who wishes for death constantly. He wonders why suicide is haram. Why Allah never listens to his prayers.

I mean, what is this all about? Why does this happen? Is it because Allah put them in some test and they failed and now He is punishing them; or maybe because they are cowards; or maybe just because they may actually be right when they say Allah has abandoned them?

Like I’ve already said, I’m in a weird mood right now, certainly not the one in which I should write about religion. But then I thought, it’s not like I’m afraid of being doubtful about my religion ever, InshAllah, so I should write about it in any mood. I guess.

May Allah forgive me if I have said something I shouldn’t have. But seriously, all this breaks my heart. So many people; young people my age, apparently happy ‘cool’ people, good-looking people, sweet people, even my friends; so many people around me are so unhappy with their life, with their religion, with their Allah. I mean, why? I think, I’m one of you. I’m just like you. We have all loved and lost. We have all had our ups and downs. We have all prayed to Allah and sometimes have not gotten what we prayed for. But then why is it that Al-Hamdulillah, I’m happy and you’re not? I’m contented, you’re regretful? I look back at my past, and despite some major mistakes, I can still manage to smile…a huge smile, MashAllah. And you…you don’t even wanna turn back and look.

Basically, I guess I’m trying to say here that sometimes I feel guilty. Guilty of my happiness, contentment, guilty why Allah loves me so much, guilty why Allah has blessed me with the greatest blessing of all: loving Him and placing my trust on Him completely and thus being happy with what He provides.

I guess I just feel guilty why I’m  happy and they are not.

Basically, my question is just this:

Why?

Well…I’m free right now so might as well update…I had this idea for the post for a long time but just didn’t wanna sit down and write. Enough of writing on my hands these days! *grrrrrr*

Some time back, this cousin of mine, A, discovered this video titled “Qabr ka Azaab.” It was about this ‘modern’ guy who is Sin incarnate. As in, he is the reflection of most of the people around us these days.

He is rude to his father, mean to most people, wastes time with his friends playing cards and such, doesn’t offer his Salahs, turns up the volume of music, or at least ignores it, when the Adhaan is being called out.

Well, the guy dies. The movie shows Malakul Maut coming to take him. And then the entire process that takes place from death till he reaches his grave…how angels in all black come to receive him and remind him of all he has done in life, how the spirit is watching his family and friends crying over his dead body, he apolgizes to his father but obviously he can’t hear him; he is basically repenting and wishing for more time so that he could go back and work on his Naam-ae-Aamaal (however u spell it.) Well, then they show his Aamaal as a dog sitting on top of his dead body as they are taking him to the graveyard. Finally, the angels reveal to him a Grave which is an illustration of the raging fires of Hell.

As it turns out, all this is a dream and he IS getting a chance to mend his ways. He does, too. Tauba tun Nasoo…

Well, I liked the movie. I was a bit sceptical about men posing as angels though, and about the fact that the Aamaal are seen as dogs by the spirits, but I thought that the basic message was good so all’s good.

Turns out A has sleepless nights because of it. Her mother started crying after she saw it. A distributed it far and wide. People were very scared of it. Many claim to actually imagine those black angels calling out their names every time they try committing sins.

It was a bit thought-provoking for me. That’s it.

Whenever I heard A telling me the reactions of the people, I would get worried. As in, I would think, What the hell is wrong with me? Why doesn’t it move me to tears? Is Allah unhappy with me? That is why, I’m becoming stone-hearted and such things do not make me fear. Allah rehem!!

Well, soon after that, I met another cousin of mine. A younger cousin. A sweet little kid. Very religious and God-fearing, MashAllah. Well, she came upto me, all excited, “Sana Apa, you have got to see this thing. This video! It’s amazing!”

She took me to see that video on her computer. It was that nasheed from Ahmed Bukhatir called ‘Last Breath’ based on some footballer who died during a match. Just like that. One moment, he is coming in with a smile on his face, second, poof! He falls down on the ground and dies within seconds.

Its a simple nasheed, with simple lyrics.

But that nasheed started haunting me. Not in a bad nagging way. But in a good way. I would keep humming the tune, singing the few words I knew then. It kept haunting me.

Today, I finally made the effort of searching online and finding the video.

Today when I was, as usual, delaying my Isha prayer, I suddenly found myself humming some words of that nasheed…”Come on, my brothers, let us pray. Decide which now, do not delay.”

Needless to say, it left me shaken.

Gracious and kind as I am, I’m providing you with a link here so that you can go check the video out yourself. If it affects you, too, and you do something nice, it will, InshAllah, be sadqa jaria for me! Ah-haaa!!

http://islamic-download.com/pc/video/inspirational/last_breath.html

I don’t know what should I call this ’story.’ Help me come up with a title.

We are supposed to hand in our final Art of Storytelling story on 14th December. I started on my story last night, worked for seven hours straight, typed thirteen pages but still couldn’t finish.

I still haven’t. *sigh*

Well, the basic plot of my story is that there are a group of people who have made this club called the Storytellers’ Club, and who meet to tell each other stories. So my story has three stories which the characters are telling.

I am posting one of the stories a character tells. I’ve made it deliberately flawed because the plot demanded it. But it may be possible there may be other errors, other than the one I have in mind. So feel free to point out any!

Here goes: I don’t have a title yet! (It’s your job to suggest one!)

WARNING: It’s long! Quite long!

Once upon a time there lived a prostitute who was proud of what she did.

That sounds strange, you people might say.

Well, this is how the story goes. Once, when her clientele in the Heera Market was lessening a bit, she panicked. She thought and thought about what she could do to improve her business. Well, rare as it was in that Red Light Area, she was an educated woman. Literate. Literate in terms of what the Pakistani Government had decided as a criterion: She could read and write her own name.

Now when her business was going a bit slow, she decided to start learning to speak well, use English words every now and then, and to learn to dress up like a Mem Sahib. She had decided that if the bastards won’t come to her in the Red Light Area, she would herself go seek them out in the Civilized Cultured Respectable World.

She started visiting the posh areas of
Lahore, like Defence and Gulberg to see the lifestyles of the rich folks. When she thought she was fully equipped with the knowledge she needed to act like a shareef,  respectable, cultured and an educated woman in respectable gatherings, she asked a rich, respectable, cultured client of hers to invite her to one of his social gatherings. Amused at her request, the respectable man agreed.

The day she was supposed to enter the posh, rich respectable World, she felt very nervous. She dressed up in a saffron sari, applied light makeup which highlighted her cheekbones and beautiful eyes, and decked herself with some gold jewellery a rich client had once gifted her. When she looked in the mirror, she thought she looked just like a respectable lady ought to.

So that was her trick! She would go to such respectable social gatherings as a respectable lady and then very secretly bait out clientele. She felt a little guilty at this wicked plan but said a quick prayer to Allah to forgive her.

The rich client sent her an auto-rickshaw so she could come to his place. She hid her contempt behind a façade of anxiety as the client explained to her that she must never come near him at the function, nor must she tell anyone who she came with. He had his reputation to protect.

Oh, I might as well tell you the name of this rich client for future reference. Zahid Nawab was his name, buying and selling girls was his game.

Mr. Zahid Nawab Sahib dropped her off one lane before the actual venue of the function so that nobody could see them together.

She walked towards the venue. It was a grand, beautiful five-star hotel. Each letter of the sign Pearl Continental Hotel was glittering and she felt a lump grow in her throat. Would she be able to pose as a respectable woman in the midst of so many respectable women? What if somebody found out?

She steadied herself and entered the hotel. Zahid Nawab had told her to ask somebody to take her to the Marquee Hall. As she asked a formidable-looking, extremely well-dressed man (which she later found out was a waiter) where the hall was, she wondered if he could tell she had just come from Heera Market.

Apparently, the man couldn’t, as he led her towards the hall, smiling graciously.

She entered. It was a long beautiful room, wonderfully lit. The people seemed to be out of some goron ki English movie. Yes, English movie! The men were dressed up in black suits and white shirts winking proudly. The women were dressed up in elegant, sleeveless, backless saris; some were wearing skirts which revealed their toned shiny legs. Others were wearing what seemed like shalwar kamiz, yet were not. The shalwars were fitted and only reached just below their knees. The very short kamiz had deep cuts revealing their cleavages and much of their backs.

She started feeling tacky. As she had always felt. She had thought that it was only girls like herself who dressed up like that, so she had dressed up in what she had thought were sophisticated, respectable clothes. But obviously she had been wrong. In all earnest, she started wishing she had worn her backless, black sari which a client, who professed he had fallen in love with her, had once gifted her

  She was just wondering if she should leave when a good-looking, well-dressed man approached her. “Care to dance, ma’m?”

Obviously, girls of respectable backgrounds never dance with strange men in public parties. She refused, giving the man a dirty look.

She looked at him as he left with a surprised look on his face, and then go ask a pretty teenager girl if she wanted to dance. Her eyes popped out as she saw the girl smile and accept the offer.

She made her way towards the bar in the room, where she was surprised to see waiters giving people alcohol freely. She suppressed a grin as a drunken man pinched a middle-aged woman’s butt and she blessed him with a dirty look.

She sat on the stool and started looking around her for somebody who could be her first victim. While waiting, she started listening to conversations around her.

She smiled inwardly as she heard a man and a woman talking. The man asked the woman if she would like to dance. She said, “Yes, of course!” The man was about to take her to the dance floor when he turned and asked her that, hadn’t he seen her come with a man? The woman replied very easily, saying that yes, the man was her husband, but, by mutual consent, they have decided that at parties, they won’t ask each other who was with whom, who they were dancing with, etc.

Now our prostitute shifted her attention to another couple. She figured they were man and wife since they were fighting, and the woman was accusing the man of not giving her attention and the man was trying to explain his position to her. The prostitute’s heart went out for the poor woman as she cried and said that he hadn’t been giving her time at all, he hadn’t been calling her, and he hadn’t visited her. She demanded that he kiss her in public to prove his love for her. But the horrid man became flustered and said he couldn’t, since both the woman’s husband, and the man’s wife were attending the party.

Our prostitute stayed at the party the entire night. She wasn’t scared anymore if she would fit in or not. Many times there came men to ask about her, to flirt with her, to ask for a dance. But she refused all of them.

Near dawn, she went back to her home and told her prostitute friend, “O Behn, we are so lucky. Thank God, He made us what we are. I pity the poor respectable women. I, at least, take money for being a prostitute.”

Every now and then, from my everyday life, I get ample reasons for why music is forbidden in Islam.

I am a staunch believer in the “Move on” theory. It happens to everybody every once in a while that they get hurt; so hurt they think life will end, their hearts will burst, birds will stop chirping, flowers will stop blooming, rain will not bless Earth anymore.

 Nothing like this happens. Life moves at its own usual fast pace, the world couldn’t care less for their feelings.

 I know it sounds heartless, and I’m actually not heartless (surprising as it may sound), but I really think one needs to move on in life, no matter how deep the wound is. I think it’s no use wasting your present moment and your future by dwelling in painful memories of the past.

Obviously, my “Move On” theory does not allow music. Why not? Music helps in prolonging people’s misery as it helps them dwell on it by listening to sad, intense songs of love lost and hearts broken. (99% of the people I know have gone through this, including Yours Truly.)

All kinds of haram emotions rise out of somewhere within them and they feel like getting caught up in the storm rising inside them.

Most of the time, one tends to associate songs with certain people or certain periods of life. And even when one moves on from those people or out of those periods, it is a certainty that, if, at some point in one’s life, one hears the music again, one will definitely remember. Nostalgiosis most certainly will attack and despite trying hard to fight it, there will be some ache, some “tees” in the heart that hurts like someone is squeezing it tightly.

Today, too, I was given evidence to prove why music should be haram. Today I met somebody who I have been meeting my entire life. Somebody who once was very, very important to me. So important, I used to innocently wonder at the time, what meaning life would have if she left. Today it has been more than 5 years since I have been seeing her every other day but not even acknowledging her existence. I hated her after we parted. Then it just became indifference. I used to think I used to love her. Now I wonder how I could have ever liked such a person even.

(I really liked this thing my Urdu teacher once said in class, “Ishq kabhi ‘tha’ nahi hota.” Meaning we can never say she/he was my love. If it became a was (or a tha), it never was love.)

But today, I came across that person, with music playing in the background. Thanks to my brother, the music was as it usually is: doleful, sad, depressing. So depressing that even with the happiness and contentment I’m blessed with, MashAllah, I, too, started feeling low without reason. The music sought out some dark cranny of my mind/heart and tried to bring out any bad memories it could or find some, some reason to make me depressed. Yes I could feel its terrible power over me, and ya, today, I guess I succumbed.

I suddenly found myself looking at her: the person who had been in my thoughts 24/7 some years ago, someone for whom I became what I was then, someone who, in my weakest moments, I sometimes blame for setting me on  the path which led to my lethal mistakes in life. Someone for whom I feel nothing now, whatsoever.

The song playing behind us was some new hit that my brother discovered. Ashamed as I am to say so, I still have to admit it’s a beautiful number. Beautiful lyrics, beautiful music, beautiful vocals. But doleful, and thus, haram, all the same.

 It was about how a guy is wishing to start a new life by forgetting all the moments that haunt him, the words, the memories, the sunsets, the mornings. How he is chiding himself.

That just got me thinking about her. I don’t know why. I looked at her, noticing her appearance. How she had still perfectly styled her beautiful silky hair.( I remember how she used to take great care of her hair back then.) How she was as slim and petite as ever. (She used to have this perfect figure even then.) How she was just perfectly dressed up. (She always used to be very particular about matching clothes, perfumes, jewellery, shoes.)

I looked at her and thought, “She hasn’t changed a bit.”

She was still as moody as ever. Her honey-brown eyes were still as sparkling (with some unknown energy and emotion). Her eyebrows still curved like bows whenever she was deep in thought. And her “looks” (not the physical appearance, but the way she looked at me) were still as unsettling as ever.

I thought about how in these five years she hadn’t changed at all. I wondered if her life had. Or was she still the same as ever? Trying to determine her own fate, fight with her destiny and thus, make a mockery of her life? Or had Life taught her a few good lessons and she had learnt to move outside her self-involved  shell to look at the wider perspective, at the horizon in the distance, and to learn to treat other human beings as living, feeling beings?

I had paused at that moment in my chain of thought to ask myself: was I being harsh on her because I still felt hurt by all she did? But I was ready with the satisfying answer: Nothing she ever said or did, nothing she says or does, matters to me the slightest bit. Indifference at its extreme.

I thought about how much I had changed after there had been the parting of the ways. Al-Hamdulillah, Allah had welcomed me on His path, I had started striving in that direction, my priorities had changed. But despite the Hidayat, I remember the lapse. Lapses.

So much had happened in my life in these five years.

Now I’m an engaged woman, Al-Hamdulillah. I’m happy and contented with all that Allah has blessed me with.

 Unhappiness still peers out of her eyes.

I had tried to imagine all what she must have gone through in her life after we changed our ways. I had once gone to her engagement function. She had gotten engaged to some guy she had really liked. But then I had also heard that the engagement broke. Apparently, she had had some great quarrel with him and everything changed.

Other than this, I don’t know what happened in her life. Whether she had been happy or sad. Had wept or laughed those years away. Had made other close friends, boyfriends or even memorable acquaintances.

She asked my brother to keep playing the same song. The very same song about forgetting the past, the unhappiness and the happiness. I wondered whether there was a reason behind it.

The doleful music kept playing in the background. It haunted me. I was there, sitting midst five people, laughing, joking, talking. But all the while, thinking all this too. The underlying depression in the song kept overpowering me and I kept thinking about her.

She had always been like this. She immediately noticed I was paying her attention after all these years of complete indifference to her existence. Her seemingly casual glances told me she knew. I almost shivered.

And after God-knows-how much-time, I felt aware of her presence. I was alert when she would pass by. I would give her a cursory glance when anybody would talk to her.

Most unsettling! The damn music…The same song kept playing and playing. And kept doing its trick. Like I’ve said, music’s job is to make you feel depressed without any reason. It also does well at reminding people of old times.

When I could take it no longer, I excused myself from the room and ran to the computer to write all this down.

Music sucks. I had a horrible time today. The haunting music that is still playing somewhere in the back of my mind sucked me into the hole where all my memories rested.

I have always said, and will say so today too, Allah always, always has reason behind all that He says and does.

 Music is not haram without any reason.