Màu nền Màu tối Mặc định Xám nhạt Xanh nhạt Xanh đậm Vàng nhạt Màu sepia Vàng đậm Vàng ố

Font chữ: Palatino Linotype Bookerly Segoe UI Patrick Hand Times New Roman Verdana Tahoma Arial

Chiều cao dòng: 100 120 140 160 180 200

Kích cỡ chữ:

6th Feb 2019

"Strive to do that which will benefit you and seek the help of Allaah, and do not feel helpless."

[Muslim]

Chapter 3:

Uninvited Past

If you had to describe Rufaida in one word, it would be balanced.

Having seen so much in life on a second-hand basis, she was far too wise for her age and too sensible for her own good.

She'd wallow in her pool of tears but once she was done, she'd find the mop to wipe the mess and get back to life. She'd question the purpose of college and the anxiety it caused, yet burn the midnight oil to ace her papers.

Her mental state could be in shambles, yet when she met people, you'd think she hardly had problems in her life. She didn't trust men, but she was also aware that when the time came, sometime in many years, she'd have to get married, although that was something she didn't want to think about at the moment.

She wasn't one to crib or complain, she saw life for what it was, without bitter or sugar coating it. She was sorted and knew exactly what she wanted.

"I have finally understood the purpose of our degree!"

Placing a scale on her practical record, Rufaida drew tables for the diet chart she was preparing. Once done, she turned to look at her friend, Amrit, who had interrupted her thoughts.

"Enlighten me," she demanded, "At least one of us finally figured it out."

"So you know how we're doing our Bachelors in Nutrition, right?" She prompted.

"You realized that in the last semester? What were you doing in the previous five?" Kiran drawled, not at all amused.

"That's exactly my point," the Punjabi girl clapped her hands, excited to share the new found discovery with her friends. "We study about diseases in our class, their causes and symptoms, their risk factors and the foods to consume and those to avoid, but our course is so hectic and so stressful that I finally understood the purpose of all this knowledge. Stress is a major risk factor in all of the lifestyle diseases, and we're also taught the importance of good nutrition, but while we're learning all this, they shove deadlines down our throat, throw in a hundred assignments, amidst which we don't find the time to eat and we're constantly stressed. Which means, by the end of this semester, if we make it out alive, that is, all the knowledge we're studying for patients, we'll get to apply it for ourselves because obviously, we're a hairsbreadth away from developing heart diseases, hypertension or diabetes!"

At the end of Amrit's rant, Kiran slowly clapped for her friend's apt theory while Rufaida burst into a fit of giggles at the exaggeration.

"I second that, truth has been finally spoken," Kiran agreed.

"Amrit," Rufaida started, "I know it's hectic, but you don't have to be so dramatic about it."

"Easy for you to say," she accused, "You love the subject after all."

"And that's what I've always been telling you," she encouraged, "Do something that you love."

"Please also tell my parents that," she deadpanned. "They wanted me to become a doctor, and when I couldn't get a seat, by the way, thank God for that, they pushed me in a paramedical field."

"What have you decided then?" Kiran finally questioned, "What are you planning to do with your life?"

"What I'm going to do is of little importance, you tell me something, Kiran," she started. "What are you going to do about Gaurav?"

"What will I do?" She asked as if the answer was obvious. "Run away from home, exchange vows with him in the temple and then do a court marriage."

Rufaida momentarily let go of the calorie counting and turned to focus her attention on her two friends. The minute Kiran uttered what she did, Amrit gave her a look of disbelief, and Rufaida almost feared she was going to pass judgmental remarks. She didn't need that, for she was running out of stamina drying Kiran's tears.

However, contrary to her thoughts, Amrit's face broke into the biggest smile and she clapped her hands, saying, "Runaway wedding? Really? I've always wanted to witness one."

Rufaida facepalmed herself at her comment as she continued, "But Kiran, I'm warning you, as your bridesmaid, I can't miss out on the fun of the wedding, okay? And also, make sure you run away in a car made of glass so at least your dress will be seen from outside. Make sure you also tell the driver to drive really slowly, because in front of your parents we'll have to pretend like we're stopping you from committing this crime, and since I'll be all dressed up and wearing stilettos, it'll get difficult to run."

"Sure Amrit," Kiran answered sarcastically, "While I jump off the cliff, why don't you also go looking for the best designer in the city to design the dress you'd be wearing for my funeral?"

"Right! I didn't think of that. After selecting the dress I'll be wearing for your wedding, I have to keep one ready for either yours or Gaurav's funeral!" As an afterthought, she added, "Or maybe both."

"Seriously Amrit," Rufaida shook her head, "You have a twisted sense of humor."

"I'm just trying to lighten the atmosphere," she justified, "Look at Kiran, her name means ray of light, and here she is, cloud of darkness."

"Hey! That's –" Kiran opened her mouth to protest but suddenly, something else caught her attention.

"Amrit, guess what?" She prompted, her eyes glinting with mischief. "You were absent the first day and wanted to know about that guy, no?" She questioned, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Her eyes sparkling, Amrit bobbed her head and turned to look at the guy her friend pointed at.

"Wow," she breathed, "Not bad, Rufaida, I like your choice," she grinned in appreciation. "He's a 9.5, just give me your consent and I'll go talk to him, and with the way he speaks, I'll tell you if he's capable of being a 10/10."

As Kiran and Amrit gawked at the guy in front of them, where Ahmed sat with his friends, munching on nachos and speaking whatever it is that guys spoke, Rufaida sighed.

"Girls, lower your gaze," she muttered and then exhaled when she realized this rule didn't apply to them since they were not Muslims.

"We can stare, babe, we can stare all that we like," Amrit spoke aloud her thoughts.

"What's say, Kiran, shall we set her up with him?"

"Seriously, stop," Rufaida interrupted, slightly annoyed.

"But why," Amrit whined, "He looks so smart, not just his looks but his overall personality too. I'll get another reason to dress up if you get married."

"Plus, he practices your religion, so unlike me, your family wouldn't even have a problem! Everyone will be happy," Kiran added for extra effects.

Smacking her hardbound record on the bench that she was sitting on, she finally managed to garner their attention, not once looking at the guy they were mentioning.

"You two are young adults now, so behave like your age, okay?" She reprimanded. "Stop acting like teenage girls who unnecessarily read too much into things and prepare themselves for heartbreak by spinning fairy tales."

"But just look at him," Amrit convinced, "He's so cute and totally your ty-"

She stopped midsentence with the look her friend directed her way.

"I just want my babies to be happy and settled," she justified in a small voice, intimidated by that stare.

Slightly melting at her tone, she sighed. "You know how it is in my religion, we don't go seeking such relationships, it's forbidden for our own good, so there's no point getting excited over nothing."

"How boring," Amrit drawled.

"Actually so nice," Kiran contradicted. "That way you're less reckless for your own good. And besides, Amrit, just look at Rufi, she keeps guys at a ten-mile radius from her."

"Not exactly," Amrit corrected. "That guy is sitting right in front of us within less than a mile radius."

"What am I going to do with this girl," Rufaida sighed, shaking her head.

"That means I can't set you up? I was actually imagining being an Aunt to your future children," she teased and earned a light smack from Rufaida on her arm.

"Such a haram girl you are," she chided.

"Yes, sure, Rufi, we all know you're very halal," she grinned, using the word she had picked up from her friend. "Oh, and what's the word you use every time I say something bad. As as something?"

"Astagfirullah," Rufaida informed.

"Exactly! I am so astagfirullah, Rufi is so ma sha Allah and Kiran is waiting for her in sha Allah," Amrit laughed, and Rufaida felt like a proud mother as she grinned at her friend use the phrases that she had picked from her.

***

Rufaida had absolutely no idea why her lab coat and this semester played a hate-hate relationship with each other. Every Wednesday, she'd walk towards her chemistry lab looking forward to experimenting with chemicals, and every Wednesday, her lab coat would jinx it.

The first week of her practical, she had genuinely forgotten it at home. The next week, God knows how she had, by mistake, confused her apron for the lab coat, only to realize it after reaching college. The third week, since a junior had asked her for her old notes for reference while handing her the bag filled with books, photocopied notes, and previous year's question papers, she had forgotten she was also giving away her entry to the chemistry laboratory.

And now she was racing towards the prayer room that rested in the far end of the campus, for today, on the fourth Wednesday, she had managed to carelessly leave it there while removing the prayer mat from her satchel.

She had stepped foot into the medium-sized hall when she quickly halted herself, looking down at her watch, groaning when she realized it indicated 1:27.

In honor to credit the interfaith beliefs, and respect students of various religions, the college had given a place for their day scholars to freely practice their religious duties by offering Salah while on campus. 

However, what was done with good intentions, was soon becoming a source of fitnah for some of them used it as a source to get friendly with the opposite sex and tried to woo them by what they thought were 'halal' ways, like flexing in sujood, spending long minutes in dhikr and trying to start friendships by saying Bismillah.

Yes, the young generation had a way to twist haram concepts to make it seem halal.

Since such practice was refuting the sanctity of the concept, some Muslim lecturers of the college had clearly put down that the room would be accessible to guys during odd hours while the girls could use it during even hours. Besides, since mostly the only Salah offered there was Zuhr during lunch time which extended from 12:30 – 1:30, it wasn't a hassle as girls could use it first followed by the guys.

However now, as Rufaida peeked from the door, a few guys still praying while her lab coat neatly rested all the way in front, she sighed.

Amidst tapping her foot in rapid thinking, she was still coming up with ways to retrieve her precious garment when her eyes caught some movement before her. She looked on as a guy, having finished his prayers, made his way out of the room and disregarding her presence, he turned towards the hallway.

Even before Rufaida could change her mind, she spoke, "Excuse me?"

She knew his name. Even if it would have slipped her mind since the teacher had uttered it alongside hers only once, her friends were the kind who wouldn't let her forget it. Yet, despite the little unwanted and unwelcomed history they shared, she didn't utter it.

It seemed odd because, in spite of being in the same class for one hour per week, they were still strangers. Calling him by his name would mean they were previously introduced to each other, and although they were, pretending something of that sort hadn't happened was easier for it didn't mean anything.

He probably thought the same for startled, she saw him turn towards her, his eyes sparkling with recognition before they turned questioning.

"Yes?" He inquired, his tone dripping of formality.

"I actually forgot my lab coat inside," she said, her thumb pointing in the direction of the hall he had just stepped out of.

He gave her a peculiar look, wondering what he was supposed to do with that information.

"Since the brothers are still praying, could you please, if you don't mind, get it? I can't really go in," she further explained, her gaze lowered.

Although she studied in a co-ed college, her course had only girls so most of the time, it was easy to avoid interaction with guys. However, times like these, she was left with little options.

"Sure," he nodded at her earlier request, before proceeding inside once again.

"It's right in front, near the cabinet," she informed.

She waited for a few seconds until he walked out holding her object of request which she gladly accepted from his outstretched hand.

"JazakAllahu khair," she thanked before walking past him and treading on the familiar path that led her to her destination.

"BarakAllahu feeki," he mumbled his reply, although he was certain that in her rush to reach her lab, she probably didn't hear him.

As he turned around and walked out, what he didn't realize was that while he casually prayed for Allah to bless her in reply to her thanks, there was going to come a time when he would be sent as her blessing.

And what do you know of strangers who walk into your life meaning nothing, only for time to polish them into becoming the answer to a prayer you so badly required, but never uttered.

***

Zubair stared at Afreen, sad to see her in such a state.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I'm honestly trying from my part, I spoke to my mum about you and she seemed quite interested. I just need to also tell her that we're looking for an early wedding."

"If my parents find out what I've been up to behind their back, I'll be dead. And I'm tired of this guilt that's eating me up. Now that we're planning on spending the rest of our lives together, why don't we just get married instead of committing this sin," she reasoned.

Zubair stared at his girlfriend, admiring how attached she was to her parents. "I'll tell mum to send you a proposal," he nodded. "But at the same time, I'm worried."

"Why?" Afreen questioned, her eyebrows creased.

"Will they accept, Aaf? We come from different backgrounds, the last thing I want is for them to think I'm doing this for money. I have my goals in place and I've already started looking out for jobs. The initial years of our marriage may not be easy but I'm ready to put in all the hard work and do what it takes to give you the life you deserve. I just want to be with you, and want nothing else from you," he informed, sincerely.

Smiling at the love in his voice, she said, "I trust you, Zubair, and so what if I don't have the luxuries of my current life in your home, your presence will be enough for me."

"But would your parents accept, Aaf? For one, I don't even have a job."

"Don't worry, I'll convince them," she replied, and although she wanted to believe it herself, she knew a part of her was lying, her head swirling in doubts.

Whom was she kidding? Zubair was hardly the guy who met her family's standards. However, she knew what a kind heart he had, and that's all that mattered to her.

"Don't worry, we'll find a way," she assured and he gave her a tight-lipped smile, knowing that things were about to get intense, almost fearing he would lose the girl he had come to love so much.

After their little discussion, Afreen walked out of the large University gates but halted midway when her gaze landed on a little boy, sitting beside a woman who was begging on the footpath. Instinctively, she rummaged through her bag and caught hold of the juice can resting in it. Generously, she handed it over to the boy, who looked at her in surprise, before gladly accepting it.

Smiling, she made her way to the parking, walking faster than she intended to before reaching her destination.

"I've been waiting for the past half an hour," Ahmed grumbled, turning the key in the ignition.

"You had the option of going home, I could easily find a ride."

"Of course!" Ahmed nodded. "I also know who your ride would be."

"I'm not that stupid to ask him to drop me home and dig my own grave," she informed.

"Yet stupid enough to fall for a guy you have no business with?" He taunted.

"While you mock me like this, fear the day you fall in love."

"But why should I fear it? The day I fall in love would be the day of my wedding and the person I fall in love with would be my wife," he shrugged. "So, what's the point in fearing a day meant for celebrations?"

"What if, God forbid, you fall in love with a girl you can't have?"

"That's not possible," he opposed.

"But if something like that happens?" She hinted.

"Whatever I do, I'm certain I won't compromise on my deen," he answered and Afreen looked away, embarrassed for that is exactly what she was doing.

Once they reached home, as usual, the siblings were looking forward to their mum serving them food as they filled her in on their day. However, upon entering and having said their salams, they weren't prepared to see a very angry Zainab pacing to and fro in their massive living room.

At the sound of their greeting, with furious eyes, she walked towards them. Afreen found her heartbeat quicken when in a tone so cold it could cause frostbite, she asked,

"What have you been hiding from me?"

__________________

JazakAllahu khairan to everyone reading, voting and commenting on this story, I love your enthusiasm, alhamdulilah. I hope you're enjoying it so far, in sha Allah. It's exciting to know some of you are confused and the others seem to have figured out the plot. Please let me know of your theories in the comments below so as the story unfolds we can have the #OhIWasWrong or #ISoTotallyKnewIt moments based on your predictions <3