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24th March 2020

"And upon Allah rely, if you should be believers"

[al-Maa'idah 5:23]

Chapter 16: 

A new wave

4 years later

Your world can be falling apart, or you may be living moments you'd wish could stay forever the same, but time does not stop, does not bend, does not pause even for a fraction of a second. Time does not apologize, it most definitely isn't partial towards feelings or considerate about emotions, it does its job, and goes on and on. Seconds pile together to give us years all stacked up. We don't necessarily live every moment as we should, only to look back and realize the days gone by have given us a treasure chest of memories, lessons, and experiences.

Years later, the tears we once shed makes sense. Time is brutal, but time is also honest. Eventually, everything comes a full circle, the knots even out, tables turn, and once the sand has shifted, the hourglass fills up on the other side and every rotation brings with it a new chance. It is believed that time heals us, or perhaps we heal ourselves with time. Solving the conundrum is of less importance, what matters here is that in the end, it all turns out to be okay, and either way, hearts heal, and every crack finds in itself to fill again with love and hope and kindness.

Rufaida got off the bus and walked towards her house. It had been only a few months since they had shifted to a place of their own, and it felt surreal to even think about it. Mubeena had made it very clear that she was planning on getting Zubair re-married in the coming months, and that she didn't want Asma and her daughter in the house anymore. Since it was the family home and Asma had a part, the reason why she was allowed to stay there for so many years, Mubeena convinced her husband to give his sister her share so they could get done with them. While the amount Asma received was far too less in comparison to what she was meant to inherit, without arguing much, the mother-daughter duo left. They pooled in their savings with the amount of inheritance and bought themselves a tiny, 2 BHK house. Their house would pass as ordinary to an onlooker, but it was nothing less than a palace for them. Decades later, to have a roof over their heads that they could finally call their own was nothing short of a blessing.

Making her way through the lane, Rufaida fished her bag for the house keys, and unlatching the gate, she walked towards the door.

"Assalamu alaikum," she called out upon stepping in, not expecting to see her mum home.

"Wa alaikum as salam," Asma responded.

"How come you're early today, Ammi?" Rufaida asked.

"Took the last period off, I wanted to be home before you," her mother responded.

Giving her a curious glance, Rufaida prodded, "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, Alhamdulillah," Asma assured, handing over a plate of snacks.

"What's the matter?" Rufaida asked again, certain there was more to this. "Are you missing Nani? Call her again this weekend, I miss her too. We could all spend time together; it's always pleasant to have her home."

"Yes, we can do that, but that's not what's bothering me," Asma finally spoke.

"Okay..." Rufaida trailed off, waiting for her mum to elaborate.

"You always dreamt of having a house of our own, and I've seen you work so hard these years to fulfill that dream. You haven't only been my daughter, Rufi, you've also been the best gift Allah could give me. The world considers a son more valuable than a daughter, but I'd beg to differ, a thousand times over, and I'll still choose you as my daughter over a hundred sons."

Rufaida simply wore a trembling smile, her eyes going moist at her mum's words. Allah had once shown her a dream, and it was Allah who had now fulfilled it. Her heart was so full, it could burst in gratitude for how kind Allah was towards them. They weren't living a perfect life, no, since most of the money was used up in buying the house, they were still assembling the necessities, be it kitchen essentials or furniture. But despite everything they didn't have, they were in a much, much better place than they had once been in and it in itself was a huge blessing!

"Rufaida," Asma started, after a brief pause. "I stood by you as you fulfilled your dreams, never told you that marriage is everything for a girl but now, I think you should consider it. It's a beautiful journey, Rufi, and I don't want you to make decisions about the future based on my past. I'm afraid in your haste to turn down every proposal we got for you, we've lost a lot of time. Girls your age are all married, so many of your friends are now mothers, and I want you too to witness those blessings. Just because my marriage turned out to be a disaster, you can't let it traumatize you for the rest of your life. You can't dictate matters in your life, Rufi, you can't let your Imaan become weak. You have to let go of everything you've been holding on to so fiercely."

Rufaida sighed at her mother's subject of conversation, marriage was a taboo for her even now and she seldom spoke about it. "I'm not sure I want to speak about this, Ammi," Rufaida stated her thoughts.

"What's the problem, Rufi?" Asma asked. "What is the problem? Let's take it slow, one by one. Do you think good guys don't exist in this world; that you too will end up with a man similar to who I married?"

Rufaida thought about the question, and as tempted as she was to say yes, she knew it wasn't the case. Over the years, while she hadn't befriended any, yet she had seen some amazing men on a second-hand basis. She thought back to everything that she had heard and seen, be it husbands of her friends, some of her colleagues in the hospital or even her own cousin, they were all good men. Kind-hearted humans, fulfilling every role they were asked to shoulder.

"I know good men exist in the world," she finally said. "I'm not denying it."

"Then are you scared that you won't be fortunate enough to come across one?" Asma prodded.

"Maybe," Rufaida slowly admitted, finding it odd to face her fears.

"That's about tawakkul, Rufi. Allah is as you imagine Him to be, if you pray to Him for a good spouse, He will give you a good spouse. But the sad part is you've messed up your basics when it comes to this. You know Allah fulfilled so many of your wishes, but it terrifies me to think that Allah fulfilled some of your other duas and they've all backfired on you. What was the need to pray to Allah to not get you married, to not let any proposal so far work, to not meet a man worthy of marriage? Couldn't you simply ask Allah to bless you with goodness and make every matter in your life khair? You're earning and you have a promising career ahead of you, and of course you may not need a man to be happy. But how I wish you would have still recognized what a blessing it is to have a righteous companion to tread life with you, who pushes you to do better and supports you in your dreams. How I wish you wouldn't detest the concept of marriage, and trust Allah to be powerful enough to send you a pious spouse, one who loved Him and for His sake would love you."

"Ammi, please," Rufaida begged, unwilling to hear the story of her life framed in such bitter words. "Alhamdulilah I'm happy in life, and you don't have to be so tensed about me," she assured.

"You're happy now, Rufi, but what happens when I'm no more? You're going to be lonely and regretful for all the duas you asked when you could have prayed for a greater good. Do you not want to have a family of your own, children you can raise with your spouse? I'm telling you all this because I know in an unrecognized chamber of your heart, you too dream of it, but you've let your fears win over your every chance at being happy."

Rufaida fell silent at those words, how could she deny them when they were so unapologetically true?

"I'm scared," Rufaida finally confessed, her throat clogging up so densely she thought she'd choke.

"It's not too late, Rufi. Make dua, and this time instead of giving Allah a long list of things that you don't want Him to do, simply ask for forgiveness and give Him control over the affairs of your life. Trust Him, Rufi, don't be so sure of yourself. Leave room for doubt, and trust Him blindly, Allah only does what's best for His slave."

Rufaida was running away from the possibility of marriage all these years, but life had brought her to a state where she didn't know what to do anymore. She didn't know what she wanted anymore.

Rufaida had shifted homes and just when the feeling of liberation was settling in, she realized she was caged by her fears all her life. She had developed customized normalcy and swore to live by it, but it turned out that the uncertainties that she was dodging all her life were looking her in the eye, asking her if all of this was worth it in the end?

***

"Chachu, do you have a finance?"

"Yes, of course, I am setting up a finance."

"Really?" The little one asked, her eyes lighting up in glee. "Can I meet her? Is she pretty life Fu-Fu?"

Ahmed turned to look at his little niece, a look of bewilderment on his face. "Fari, what exactly is a finance?"

The four-year-old dramatically sighed at her uncle's lack of basic knowledge. "Mamma told me you studied at a very big university. They didn't even teach you finance?"

"I'm afraid they didn't," Ahmed answered, matching her expression of disappointment, even pouting like Fariha to assure her that he felt her pain. What a waste of money and four years of staying abroad, Ahmed didn't even know about a finance that looked pretty and whom he could introduce in front of his niece!

"Will you teach me what finance is?" he requested.

"Look Chachu," Fariha started, both her hands raised in the air, as she elaborated on the subject. "My friend in school has an Uncle, and he likes this girl and he's getting married to her. So that girl is called a finance. And now, I want to know if you too have a finance, so we can get the two of you married and I'll get to wear pretty dresses and call all my friends to your wedding."

"I see," Ahmed nodded, laughing at Fariha and her attempt to expand his vocabulary. "I'd love to have a finance, but the problem is I don't find anyone cuter than you. So Fari, will you help me find one?"

"I can help you," she shrugged, like this was her part time business and it was no big deal absolutely.

"How so?" Ahmed enquired, curious to hear the little one.

"I have many cute teachers in my school, I can ask them if they'd like to marry my Chachu," she explained her plan.

"Your grandmum is going to love to have you join her team," Ahmed mumbled, thinking back to his mum and how desperate she too was to find him a 'finance'.

"But I'm in Chachu's team," Fariha raised her hand, staying loyal to her Uncle who always took time out and chatted with her on video calls and got her numerous gifts every time he came to visit. She was so glad that unlike his trips, he was back here permanently now and was going to live in the same house as them forever. She was already enjoying her evenings with him and he was just so funny, he made her laugh till her tummy hurt.

She was about to tell him about all the cute teachers she knew in her school, but when she smelled cookies that her mum was baking in the kitchen, she quickly ditched him in the living room and rushed to peek in the oven.

"Fariha adores you," Afreen exclaimed, catching moments of their little exchange while she walked down the stairs and made herself comfortable on the couch opposite to where Ahmed was seated.

"Everyone except you adores me, Aaf," he teased his sister. "Are you jealous that Fariha is closer to me than she is with you?" he pulled her leg.

"I don't worry about losing what's already mine," she rolled her eyes. "Fu-Fu and Faru are an undefeated pair," she clarified, using the term Fariha called her.

"Don't attempt to compete with Chachu and Fari's team, Afreen, you're going to lose," he made known.

"All these years and you still haven't grown up," Afreen sighed.

"But you have, haven't you?" Ahmed asked, and there was something in the way the question was framed that Afreen held his gaze for a while.

"I'd let you answer your question," she replied.

"You have," he provided his observation. "I have another question," he put forth. "Why have your eyes lost that charm they ones held?"

"Didn't know people in Ireland taught you how to read eyes," Afreen replied, looking away.

"Come on, Aaf, tell me what's going on," Ahmed prodded. "You know you can't keep a secret away from me. And if you do, I'll still find out.'

"Tam's baking brookies, isn't she?" She diverted the conversation instead, her face lighting up. "I've been craving them for so long."

"I'm supposed to be the foodie in this house," Ahmed deadpanned, not appreciating her blatant attempt to change the topic.

"Sometimes I think brothers were invented to finish all the food in the kitchen," Afreen accused. "Never going to forgive you for that time when you ate my share of the cheesecake Maasi had made. Didn't you feel an ounce of guilt?"

"Not the least bit," Ahmed grinned, unapologetic. "I ate mine super fast and then relished every bite from your share. Just speaking about it brings the taste back on my taste buds."

"You're mean," she condemned.

"And you're mode," he replied cheekily.

"Yeah okay, we know you are a genius in stats," Afreen answered rolling her eyes at his attempt to crack a joke.

"So, Afreen, what's the problem?" he asked, spinning the conversation back to where he intended.

"What do you want to know, Ahmed? Just ask," Afreen replied, giving in to his persistence.

"On a scale of ten, how ready are you to get married?"

"Seven."

"I'm serious, Afreen," Ahmed stated, unable to accept that as the truth.

"So am I, Ahmed. It has taken me four years to become the self I am today, and I'm not crossing out anything that the future holds. Yes, I'm going to be apprehensive and may get anxious about the events to come, but I'm not going to be blocking the blessings that Allah has willed for me. I can't stress this enough, but I once tried to take things in my hand, put my loved ones through trauma and ruined several precious moments, so this time I'm starting over with a clean slate. Be it marriage or anything else in the future, I'm not willing to dictate events in my life. I'll chase my dreams, but I'm also going to stay in my boundaries."

Ahmed looked on at his twin, his jaw slightly dropped at what he had just heard. After her divorce and with Ahmed going away to Ireland, he felt there was a sort of distance that had developed in their relationship. Contrary to what anyone would have thought, Afreen had gathered herself pretty well, and pretty quickly after separating with Zubair. On the outside, she smiled, she joked with her niece, it felt like the little stint in her life had just been a nightmare. But Ahmed knew it was her coping mechanism, and he was so certain that she was having the worst time when she was alone in her room, isolated, left to herself. Her prayer mat knew more tales than anyone in the family.

But seeing Afreen like this now, Ahmed realized that perhaps she was over it, for real. Maybe, genuinely, and not just for their sake, she was giving a second chance to life.

"So mum's allowed to see prospective grooms for you?" Ahmed double-checked, falling short for words.

"For the record, mum's already been looking for one for years, it's just that nothing clicked."

"And you don't mind?"

"Back then, I would have minded, but now I'm okay with it, okay with anything that can bring back happiness in this house."

"Sucks man!" Ahmed exclaimed, dramatically. "That means I can no longer stop mum from hunting brides for me by using your decision to not get married as an excuse."

"Whom are you fooling, Ahmed," Afreen replied, "All of us know how eager you are to get a wife."

"No ways," Ahmed denied. "I can't wait to set up my venture yet before thinking of anything else."

"Don't set deadlines, Ahmed. Events in life are not meant to be lived in separate sections, they're meant to overlap, so allow one to lead to another. Don't have too many hard and fast rules. You can get married and still set up your venture, just pray to Allah that you meet the right person at the right time, and let Him decide who and when that's going to be."

"I have to admit, I'm not sure how I feel about this role reversal. I'm supposed to be the smarter twin, the one advising in this relationship," Ahmed grumbled, although he was so glad to see Afreen sort herself so intricately.

"Who's smart and who's smarter can be decided later," Tammara interrupted, smiling as she held a plate of delectable brownie-cookies in her hand, Fariha in tow, as she ran ahead and jumped on the sofa beside Afreen, before sitting down and waiting for her mum to hand them over.

"Of course we can decide on that later," Ahmed agreed. "Nothing's more important than food," he grinned.

"Chachu's right! Mamma, please give me the cookies now, see I'm sitting down next to Fu-Fu and won't drop the crumbs around the house," she promised, and smiling at her adorable daughter, Tam went on to distribute the baked goodies as the youngsters of the family spoke excitedly about Ahmed's entrepreneurial venture that was to be launched in the coming days.

When the pain has slashed our hearts

And our eyes run dry of tears

When betrayal shakes us from within

Leaving a bitter memory after all these years

Perhaps we'll emerge stronger and braver

Learn to smile amidst the cries

And the storm will lead to

A new wave in our lives