The Blessing of Pain

Of the symptoms associated with heartache is a frantic change in emotion. I am half way through the pangs of sorrow when I stop to breathe. I take it in. The remnant of a tear meanders down my cheek, following a path of the ones that preceded it. And for a moment, I’m too preoccupied with how everything works– the hormones or lack thereof running through my veins, the chemistry of my brain that is causing utter agony: stark magnificence. SubhanAllah. For a second, I laugh hysterically, but the...


Where is Home?

Home. Where is home? I thought of this and only then was I faced with the inevitable. “We’re going to move by the end of the year.” My father’s sudden words temporarily silenced me. I paused for a moment, unsure of what to say or how to feel. “Do I have a choice?” I asked, afraid of what I knew he was going to say. “No,” he said quietly. He sensed my pain. He’s seen this look on my face before. But he too, had no choice. I tried...


Ramadan Hitchhiker

Days draw horizontal lines In the hallow centre of my unkempt mind. Invisibly etched words leave their mark A standing silhouette in the lingering dark A Ramadan Hitchhiker I had always been Ramadan, a smokeless mirror, soul buried in sin I wandered through the month aimlessly No zeal or depth, only attempts made feebly My fasts, prayers, and actions steered in a ship anchored in misdeeds How would I one day reap what I sowed when I hadn’t planted the seeds? But one day everything transformed. One lasting prayer...


Fire In My Belly

Reflective thought is utterly addictive. The mismatched colorations of my most vivid realizations and the caviler notions of my shipwrecked self are often enough to leave me consumed. As of late, I’ve been ruminating over a particular conversation. Dialogue highlighted by misplaced anxieties, a dream’s fragility and advice drenched in gold. My friend and I sat in a small coffee shop while the melodious hissing of espresso machines and overcast chattering of other customers filled the vaulted room. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too!”, she solemnly...


Surviving The Bomb Blast

I was in the car with my mum and my brother while we were out for shopping. Suddenly, an explosion took place. Our car was trapped in the parking lot, and I knew that was the end. I read the Kalimah and Ayatul Kursi, and I had this overwhelming feeling that I was going to die. But I didn’t die, Alhamdulillah. I survived the bomb blast.


The Outlook of Young Imam An-Nawawi

When Imam Nawawi was young, he used to be pursued by the children of his town as they continually asked him to join them in their games. They used to sneer, jeer, and try every conceivable method to get him to join, but he used to break away from them crying while saying, “Allah did not create me to play” 1 This was Imam An-Nawawi’s outlook on life from a very young age. Yes, in our times, we would consider it to be bizarre and unusual if a kid...


Share The Love!

It is interesting that we mainly tend to venerate somebody only after that person has passed away. That is when the tears stream down, the words come out choked, and the hearts ache. Magnificent memorials are conducted, grand accolades are read, and heartfelt obituaries are written. Now, what if we were to express our gratitude and love to one before their death? Better yet, why not make the love for only the sake of Allah? For example, let’s say you get married. If you love your wife only for...