Masir | مصير

< 06 >

Fawad

I sighed.

This is not good. I don't feel alive at all. This is not good at all. I can't wrap my head around anything this morning. And I can't quite point out why I'm feeling like this.

Maybe I missed a prayer? No, I even prayed Tahajjud today.

How am I going to the company today? Oh, Allah!

I took my phone to call Manish. If I didn't call him right now, I'll probably forget to do it later and then end up being late.

A couple of rings later, he attended the call, "Hello."

"Manish, it's me, Fawad," I informed into the phone.

"Fawad! What is it? Anything you need?"

"Yeah, please get my car ready, I'll be down in ten."

"Sure, it's done. Anything else?"

"No, that's all."

I was okay when I prayed Fajr today, then what happened? I grasped my hair in frustration. Even the hot shower didn't help.

Get a hold, Fawad!

Rolling my sleeves up to the elbow, I went into the bathroom to take wudu. Praying two rakats of nafl(voluntary prayers) might help.

"Ya, Rabb, I take refuge in you from Shaithaan. Please grant me ease from this disturbing state, oh Al-Samad."

After reciting the three Quls, I blew it over my body.

•

It was after 20 minutes I came down with my laptop. Now, Alhamdulillah, I feel better. A lot better.

There was luggage at the entrance and the doors were wide open. Is someone here from Delhi? Dada's family resides in Delhi. So, it's probably someone from there.

I climbed down the rest of the stairs. There was no one in the hall. I could hear some noises from a room down the hallway, that's where everyone might be, so I made my way there.

Loud laughers and chatter were budding from the room. But I couldn't quite make out what they were saying.

Priya, who was taking a tray of cups into the room, nodded at me, acknowledging my presence. I did the same, casting my eyes down. I held the door open, so she could take the tray inside. She mumbled a small 'thank you' and went inside.

And so did I.

"Fawad!" I heard someone call my name. An instant smile spread across my face when I registered the person to whom belonged the voice,

"Dadi!" I exclaimed and walked to her, to embrace her in a tight hug.

"Masha Allah, my handsome child," she said rubbing my face with her small, fragile hands.

"You have become old," I stated and she laughed. I watched her smiling face, she was so fragile with her wrinkled face and small eyes.

Allah, grant her Afiya. Let her live a long, happy life, Ameen ya rabbal alameen.

"How are you, my dear child?" She asked, concern clear in her tired eyes. Her wrinkled face was tanned too.

"I'm great, alhamdulillah. How are you? Any pain in the ankle?" she had problems with her ankle. She couldn't even walk for days.

"Alhamdulillah, much better." She turned toward the rest and continued, "Let me rest a bit. We will talk later."

"Ji, Dadi." One by one, they turned and walked out of the room. Dadi was strict even for her age. We respected her and obeyed her without hesitation. I stood up to go but her fragile hands stopped me,