Her Vocation

21. Aasiya

For a moment, I sat still in my place. The bus break would last only 15 minutes, so I had to quickly go and pray Asr, or I would miss my bus.

Quickly and carefully, I packed my Quran and left it on the cabinet atop my seat. Taking my only belongings; my backpack with me which contained my important documents and some cash.

While making wudhu, my eyes caught the diamond ring dangling from the locket on my neck. I don't know why I had decided to take it with me. The ring which Navi had proposed me with almost 6 years ago and I never wore it again, until today.

The whole night, I had stayed up praying and begging to Allah to show me a way out of this mess. I remembered, the last time I had prayed like this to Allah was when I was only 13 years old. And after that, I never prayed again. Until, now.

All that time, I always complained to Allah. I was angry with Him. Was there any door left—which I didn't knock on, crying for help? I had turned in search of guidance to every person I met—hoping they could be my salvation. Thinking—maybe this one—maybe this person could save me from drowning——Samar, Mom, Dad, Amo—Captain— I had left no stone unturned—I was so desperate to crawl out of that quicksand—that I kept kicking it in hopes to finally see the light above and gulp in breaths of clean air—yet—yet, I never once turned to the only One—who was always there—waiting—holding out His hand to help me up—To save me from myself and this jahannum that I had built for myself in this world—The more I tried to get away from it—the deeper I sunk. But I was so immersed in banging on the doors of His creations—that—that never once did I think of turning to the Only One who was ready to help me.

No one helped me. I was shunned from every door, I ever knocked on. Everywhere I went, no one understood me. They found flaws in me. No matter what I did, however hard I tried to please them—it was never enough. I still fell short. In the end, the blame always ended up on my head. I was the one in wrong, everytime.

I asked my parents, tell me—tell me what should I do to please you? How can I earn your pleasure? What more do I do to be accepted? To be loved by you? To be happy—tell me! I'll change myself to how you like—just to be the one who gets your love.

I worked and laboured my entire life, with the hopes and intentions to earn their love. Thinking; one day, they'll turn and see me. The Aasiya, who was always standing outside the door, waiting to be let in.

But they never saw me—My screams fell on deaf ears and I was mocked. My own parents—couldn't love me—just because I was different from them, because I didn't see things the way they did—because I couldn't stop feeling the way, I did—

Until a time came, when I stopped running to them. Why should I try so hard, when I can't ever be good enough for them? Why not just do whatever I want, instead? I would ask myself and get pulled deeper into the darkness of my heart. The loneliness and emptiness kept growing. It's branches kept clawing my existence. Yet, I didn't know where to run—Who was there, whom I could turn to for help, who wouldn't shun me? Who wouldn't judge me for my incapabilities—who could see my heart—see that, I really was trying, even if I kept failing, I was still willing to try—Only, in hopes that someone could finally see me for me —not just the ugliness, the broken pieces, or imperfections or the pathetic mess that I were—but deep beneath all that, see the honesty; the sadness buried deep within the depths of my heart—and hold my soiled hand and save me from drowning.

No one came. No one, except Allah.

And I was always ungrateful to Him. I never once gave thanks to Allah for anything. Instead, considered Him to be the source of every misfortune that fell on me. Yet—whenever I was in need—I wanted Him to end my misery right away—like—like—Allah owed it to me— I always demanded Him to make my problems go away—Blamed Him, when things went wrong. Complained to Him—hated Him for not being there for me—for not helping me—for giving me all the problems without any solution—without any helper.

And still, it was no one but Allah—who was always there for me—Instead of striking me with lightening—punishing me, for my grave sins—He always helped me, saved me from the hell of my own creation—He never once shunned me, whenever I called on Him for help—He was the only One who was always there—Always—helping this ungrateful servant—who never once appreciated anything He blessed me with—Yet, never once did Allah look at the ugliness of my heart—His Mercy saw past all that—For Allah alone, it's enough that I am His creation; who's begging to Him for help. If I was ever this ungrateful to His creation—I would never be accepted from them—But I had turned to the Creator, Who despite my selfishness—never once abandoned me when I was helpless. Even this time, Allah had made a way out for me—

I always knew that I wanted to run away, but didn't know it would be this hard. I had never felt more scared of anything in my life before. Maybe because I had practically nothing to lose anymore and there was nothing left for me to return to.

This time, I was completely alone. I had made a choice and for better or worse—I was stuck with it for the rest of my life—And I was so scared. The only thing that held me to the ground was this book in my hand. The words of Allah.

'I am so powerless. I can't do anything. But You can, oh Allah. You have power over everything, The Omnipotent—! You can save me—Please—please save me—or I'll surely lose myself, Ya Allah. I am very weak, Ya Allah—But You're Al Qawi—The most powerful—!Please protect me Ya Hafeez! I have called on you through tears so many times—but never once, did I see the ugliness of my heart before today—Ya Allah—Ya Ghafoor ur Raheem—! You are the Most Forgiving and the Most Merciful—And I am only a sinner—A sinner who is turning to you in sincere repentance—I see the ill of my ways now—I know I am asking for your help, when I am stranded in the middle of nowhere—I know—I know—I don't deserve Your Mercy, Ya Rahman! I know that—but—but Ya Allah—I am completely alone now—I only have You to ask for help—please don't leave me to my sins—I have no helper besides You, Ya Allah—If—if You don't help me, surely I'll be of losers—Please—Please, Forgive me Ya Rabbul Alameen—Please—please I only beg of You to grant me a small space in your wide world—Please Ya Salam—end my misery—and give me peace—Please—I can't run away anymore—help me—'

The whole way in the bus and even after taking a Rikshaw—I kept praying through silent tears that had dampened my niqaab.

"Assalamualaikum—Is this is Madrassah Islamiah—?" I asked the gate keeper who was an old man with a warm face.

"Walaikumusalam. Yes? But it's closed right now—Are you looking for someone?" He inquired kindly and I gulped down the knots in my throat; all the while reciting Ayat-e-Kareema in my head.

لاَّ إِلَـهَ إِلاَّ أَنتَ سُبْحَـنَكَ إِنِّى كُنتُ مِنَ الظَّـلِمِينَ
"There is none worthy of worship besides You. Glorified are You. Surely I am from the wrongdoers."(21:87)

"Is, Hadiya Ameen here? I am here to see her." Ya Rahman, Ya Raheem, please—

AUTHOR's NOTE
Assalamualaikum wa rehmatullahi wa barakatuhu. How was today's update? It was definitely not easy for me to write. I tried to do my best—Hopefully, you guys like it InshaAllah.
Pleaseeee pleaseeee do vote and comment ☺️❤️❤️❤️Jazak Allah khair for everyone's continued support. May Allah SWT accept it from us. Ameen :)