The lost and the find

Chapter 2: The search

'I saw you, I saw you there. No need to hide anymore.' Shehroz laughed and pointed out his finger towards Tayyaba. She made her way out of the curtains, disappointed, and said, 'what even Shehroz bhai, you always find me no matter how difficult place I choose. This is not fair.'

'What, what is not fair? See, this is a game. Game to play. Not to win or lose. If you enjoyed this game, you won. You understood?' He questioned Tayyaba.

'Okay, bhai. Your advices are always the best for me.' said a 9 year old while folding her up long black hair and making a pony tail out of it, heading towards back yard.

Among the four siblings, Shehroz and Tayyaba had the strongest bond - maybe because Shehroz was oldest of all and Tayyaba, the youngest. From teaching the lessons of school to the lessons of life, from making friends to making meals, from creating a problem, messing it up and then solving it and even in choosing what to wear and what to not, they always stood by eachother.

As Tayyaba grew, she realised there was something missing from her life. It was not love, it was definitely not money but something which she did not realise at an early age.
...

02.10.2005:
'Tayyaba, do you ever wonder how cruel and abrasive our society has been towards the people who live in it?' asked her Zarmeena.

'You are good to some people and bad to others. Everytime. I must say. Society is not as cruel as people have pretended it to be.' Tayyaba rejected Zarmeena's opinion without regretting.

'For me it is. Do you even watch news and read news papers? Don't you think what has been harming our Muslim society is our own very 'society'? Questioned Zarmeena in a very harsh tone.

'Is our society really harming us? I did not know this.' Tayyaba replied.

'For me, it is, Tayyaba. And more atrocious fact is that our generation is not even trying to fix things up and this, this just freaks me out.' Zarmeena said while Tayyaba glared at her, frowning.

'Why can't we? We have to stand up. We have to take a chance. We have to bring a change. ' Zarmeena could see all those emotions being out of Tayyaba's heart.

'Change starts from us. Change comes from within ourselves. If we really have to change something, we have to change ourselves first. This is the reason I am planning to become an Islamic scholar after I complete my Fsc.' Zarmeena said and further continued, 'Okay, Tayyaba we are about to miss our class. Let's go. It is in 10 minutes.'

Picking up their books from the rack in corridor, they both walked away but those few words of Zarmeena left an impression forever in Tayyaba's heart. That impression left some questions in her mind. 'We have to bring a change from ourselves.'

That day passed but that night remained.
Tayyaba went to her home in that dark and silent night. It was winters. I have heard that winters always take parts of us away from ourselves. Winters always leave us alone in the saddening, depressing and gloomy nights. In the midst of the afternoons and in the deficient, imperfect state of ourselves.

'So you are here again, oh dear winter.
You are the maker and you the breaker.'

Tayyaba thought that night. However, these winters didn't leave Tayyaba deficient but it consummated her. Her soul. Her heart. That incomplete part. What has been rupturing her apart. Those eyes were looking for a suffice. That mind was waiting for a guide. In the search of that glory. Tayyaba, changed her story. The story which has been destined. For she knew, she was designed.
...

Late that night, she, unhesitatingly, chose to do research on Islam. Although, she was not VERY far from it but she was neither TOO close. It was in middle. She would offer her prayer sometimes and other times she would not. Neither was she forced by her family and nor did she want to get absolutely lost in the path of Islam. It was in middle. It was in between.

She took her laptop and sat on a sofa. Her legs folded and her one hand up-holding her face. Her hair falling onto her back on the white t-shirt which she was wearing (she stoled that t-shirt from her brother, by the way) and her cheeks seemed like she had blushed them. She was beautiful. Magnificent. Absolutely, beautiful. Large black eyes and pink, reddish cheeks. Pink lips. Long eye lashes. Extremely, gorgeous.

She starred at the laptop for some minutes, for some reason, deep in the thoughts. And then. She began to search.

What do we have to do to become a better Muslim? she searched. She kept reading the articles and all the information present there.

-What are the responsibilities of a good Muslim?
-Will we be accountable for what we do for our religion?
-Why is there so much hypocrisy and hype going on towards Muslims?
She searched and she searched until it was fajr (the time just before the sunrise) and surprisingly, she decided to offer prayer that day. She did.
...
In the college, as soon as Zarmeena showed up that day, it took no longer for her to substantiate that Tayyaba had not slept the whole night.
'what were you up to last night, huh?' asked Zarmeena.

'Nothing. I just didn't get good sleep.'

'Well, your eyes are already proving me that. Red big eyes and these dark circles.'

'Hah. I wish there was not any. Well, I want to tell you something.'

'What?' Asked Zarmeena.

'No, not now. I am not sure about that still. After a day or two. Wait till then. And hey! Let's go to the class.'

...
Author's note: Thank you so much if you're reading this chapter. If you find any mistakes, kindly tell me through the comments. What do you think, will Tayyaba make up in the next two days?