Pairing her favorite peach colored tee on which was written 'Faith' in beautiful white italics with her denim jeans, Rafa started to comb her hair. She scooped her bangs to fall on the sides and pulled her shoulder length blond hair into a high ponytail. She applied some mascara and smudged her lips with her all-time-any-time-going beetroot flavored lip balm.
Her steps echoed through the empty space, bouncing up and down with a wave of excitement, she strolled towards her brother's room. Unlike him, she preferred knocking on the door. She clamped her fingers and knocked on the door twice before the answer came, "Come in."
She opened the door and stepped inside to find Yahya sitting on the foot of his bed. His room looked the exact opposite to Rafa's unruly, messy one. Clad in khaki chinos with a blue shirt which matched his navy blue blazer, he clasped his fingers, rubbing them together to create some heat.
"Trust me, Yahya, she is easy-going. " Rafa tried to ward off the nervousness, taking a seat beside him.
"Admiring from afar was easier."
"Okay! Don't make fun of me," Rafa put a hand over his cheek, pulling his face to meet her eyes, "I think love sure has a language. If you love and don't know how to express it. Then my dear brother, it's not love," she was thankful that he did not interrupt her by bursting out into full fledged laughter at her grandma tone.
Taking it as a hint, she continued, "Yahya, admiring a person is good but you should take the next step. Like our schooling, we graduate from one class to the other to reach the top. Sitting idle will not benefit you, I understand you have a whole lot of sh*t going on in your life and you want to settle your affairs to believe that you deserve her. But today! Trust me, it's just a small dinner, all you will have to do is exchange a few conversations, see whether you actually like her or all you felt was admiration towards her. Okay?"
Yahya nodded and the ringing of the bell broke their trance apart. "I will answer the door, you can come out whenever you feel comfortable. Alright?"
"Right."
With that assurance, Rafa walked out of his room through the small alley where a neat painting of lotus flowers hung. She left out a breath she was holding and with a smile stretching through her face, she opened the door, beaming, "Assalamu alaikum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuh, welcome."
"Wa alaikum assalam wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuh, Rafa didi," Anjum politely smiled.
"Wow! I love your dress," Rafa took a few steps back in order to give space for Anjum to walk over the threshold.
"I was fed up with my usual office attires so thought of wearing salwar kameez today," Anjum removed her sandals, straightening the invisible creases on the edge of her white anarkali kurta, baby pink flowers adorned over the niche and her dupatta was neatly strapped on her right side.
"Salwar what?"
"Salwar kameez, it's an South-Asian dress."
"Masha Allah! I don't know if I will ever pronounce it correctly but I must say, it really looks breathtaking on you." Yahya please don't die on me.
"Let's go in," Rafa ushered Anjum and the latter hesitantly followed her, "Feel at home, Anjum."
"Thank you, didi."
"No formalities please," Rafa grinned, taking a small step of the stair that connected the living room, she turned around to guide Anjum to the sofas. "It doesn't suit my style."
Anjum laughed heartily, "How is your hospital treating you?"
"Don't even remind me. I am so fed up with removing babies from the bellies. I feel like I am some sort of a magician popping a rabbit out of a hat."
"You can't get more hilarious, didi."
"Trust me! I can," Rafa smirked.
"Of course! No doubts about it now," Anjum agreed, looking over the neatly placed grey couches that contrasted the white walls, a large television hung over the sides and light grey floor-length curtains beautified the sliding glass windows. "Your house is beautiful, Masha Allah."
"Come, let me show you my room," Rafa slowly grabbed Anjum's hand, "Please don't complain about the mess."
Anjum nodded with a small laugh, she had just stepped in the house but her cheeks already started to hurt with the continuous movements of glee.
Rafa showed Anjum her room, her parents study, the balcony across that views green plants in the daytime and which also acted as a warm hoodie on the nights. They were making their way back down when they heard clicking of cutlery.
Acknowledging, Anjum looked up in question, Rafa chimed, "I think it's Yahya setting the table."
"He sets the table?" Anjum wondered, astonished.
"Well! He is full of surprises. As the night flourishes, you will unravel many."
They stepped inside the dining area, the table already set with most of the dishes and Yahya, who was placing the jug of blueberry lemonade over the glass surface looked up, when his vision landed on Anjum he visibly sucked in his breathing.
Anjum stared at the wooden flooring, fixing her baby pink hijab.
"Come on, Yahya. Should I teach you that when someone enters the room, you should greet them with salaam?" Rafa piped in, insulting her brother, she saved him from freezing to death. Death by love. Love at first sight. Okay probably not, love at many sights.
Perhaps, it was her way of telling, lower your gaze, dude.
"Assalamu alaikum," his voice was merely a whisper.
"Wa alaikum assalam wa rahmatullahi wa barakatuh."
Placing the jug in the middle, Yahya tilted the fluorescent candle to its side. "How are you?" He questioned before his nervous impulses made him want to run away.
"I am good, Alhamdulilah. Thank you." Anjum's gaze traveled to his blazer and she immediately looked away.
The exchange caused Meenu to look at the guest, the cat that sat on the crook of Yahya's neck jumped and strolled towards Anjum. Meenu meowed, licking his body. He kneeled towards Anjum's feet.
"The boys of my house drool as if they have not seen any women in their life," Rafa shook her head and when Yahya looked at her with surprise, she mouthed, "You too."
Ignoring the siblings, Anjum scooped the cat and it purred comfortably, "He is so...cute." She stroked the black and white fur," What is your name?" She whisper-questioned the cat.
The cat in question meowed, snuggling some more in her arms. "He is Meenu," Yahya replied, entranced with the scene in front of him.
"Aw! Meenu," Anjum kissed the cat adorably while Meenu purred, closing his eyes, "Please don't sleep on me."
Rafa threw her head and laughed, taking Meenu from Anjum's arms and handing it back to Yahya. "That cat is a traitor, surely knows all the techniques to win our hearts"
"Have a seat," Rafa coerced, "I will get the salad."
"I will help you, didi," Anjum faltered behind Rafa, towing on her back with flushed cheeks.
"It's okay, you know."
"You don't have to take so much trouble," Anjum addressed the many dishes that were served when she took a seat after helping Rafa.
Rafa came beside her, unfolding her plate, Rafa scooped the chicken breast from the glass tray. "Trouble? Nonsense."
Anjum kept her gaze to the white flowers that were set in the middle as Yahya took a seat. "Oh yeah! Have this," Rafa pushed a small bowl of creamy looking vegetables her way. "Yahya tried this new dish, especially for you."
Anjum slightly blushed while Yahya glared at Rafa. Scooping a spoonful, Anjum neatly placed it on her plate.
Anticipating her reaction, Yahya paused, chewing the chicken.
It took Anjum a bit of time to gulp the vegetables. An unrecognisable expression clouded her face. "I have never had this in my life, what is this?"
Surprise was clear in Yahya's face, his fingers slightly started to tremble so he placed the fork on the table and retreated his hand to rest on his lap. "Uh! Some south-indian recipe I got from YouTube?" Though it was a statement, it came more like a question.
"Jesima bhabhi is south-indian and so are her friends, I have tried a couple of dishes they made for me but I have never tasted this dish-"
"-wait, you are not south-indian?"
"Nope. My father is from there and my parents rarely visited the southern states after my birth, so I am pretty naive when it comes to the southern parts of my country, I am sorry."
"Hey! No." Yahya grimaced, his heart tugging its beating, a light blush of embarrassment became prominent on his cheeks and he wanted to throttle Rafa's hair for giving him wrong information.
"I thought you belonged to Chennai, like the rest of the crew," Rafa pointed out, she ignored the holes Yahya dug on her skull sitting beside her.
"I am from Mumbai," Anjum told, truthfully.
"Oh." Rafa's mouth rounded and Yahya lightly stomped her feet. She bit her bottom lip, swallowing the yelp. She at last turned to him, you-are-so dead. He didn't ounce back in fear, rather his grey eyes replied, so-are-you.
"It is actually good," Anjum complimented, unconsciously easing out the tension between the siblings.
"Yahya wanted to make you feel like home so he put all his effort into preparing it."
"He definitely has accompli-" Anjum coughed when words rolled out of her tongue without her notice. Yahya met her gaze, a wave of surprise washed over his face and she couldn't meet them any longer than a second.
For Rafa, though, her heart grinned. She wanted to dance up and down because the ship she rooted for so long was now standing at the shore to sail, she was a hundred percent sure it would. The wait only being the time.
They ate the food in comfortable silence.
"I will fetch the dessert from the fridge," Rafa stood up, pushing the chair back.
After a minute, Rafa walked back with the dessert cannoli stacked neatly in a plate.
"I have always wanted to tell you this, Rafa didi," Anjum started and Rafa nodded encouraging her to spill, so she continued, "In a country where hatred is spread in a continuous rhythm, uh, where people promote bullying on Muslims as terrorists, I admire your whole family. SubhanAllah! I am so proud of you guys."
"Thank you, dear."
"Embracing the religion and transforming with so much integrity and manners are literal goals."
Yahya chuckled, "It's no big deal."
"No, it is. You people do know how vast your position is with your Creator, right?"
"Yup! Alhamdulillah," Rafa warmly gleamed, "You haven't heard the back story, have you?"
"Nope," Anjum denied, placing back the half empty glass of blueberry lemonade.
"It's an interesting one," Rafa coiled the hair that fell on her shoulders with her index finger.
"No, it's not," Yahya put forth, "Rafa enjoys embarrassing me before others, Anjum."
Anjum perked her eyebrows looking at the two of them and she couldn't chide away her heartbeats from raising at how her name rolled smoothly on his tongue.
"Aren't siblings meant for that?"
Yahya spooned some mashed potatoes to avoid his sister's mocking gaze.
"You know it's okay, if you don't want-" Anjum started to deny when Rafa showed her palm stopping her mid-sentence.
"Like I said it's an interesting story, I think I can brief you about it. Our parents run an export company and often spend their time traveling. One time they travelled to the middle-east, probably Jeddah and somehow they ended up touring around, visiting Medina. In Medina, they heard about the space left beside the Prophet's grave for the burial of Jesus. That struck a chord on them. Born in a Catholic family, they have always loved Jesus but in some corner of their heart, there was an unsettled inkling. It was that God can't be a human because humans have emotions and are tied with their own chain of feelings. And definitely, if Jesus was the son of God, then who is then God?
In America, they couldn't find the answers for their queries, they blindly followed their ancestral footsteps. But when they heard that there is a place in Medina for the burial of Jesus who will descend down from the heavens at the end of times, they confirmed that he was no son of God. He is after all a human. A Messenger of God. "
"SubhanAllah!"
"You can't even imagine the look of surprise in me and Yahya when they came back after months with my dad growing a beard and my mom in a hijab. I accepted the truth as such because I loved my parents and trusted them with my life. I was-" Rafa placed a finger near her chin, thinking, "I was fifteen back then and Yahya sixteen. He was arrogant and...rebellious," the words made Yahya choke and bite his tongue that made him start coughing.
Anjum passed the jug of water and Rafa poured some water on his glass and took it towards his lips. She was patting his back when the seizure stopped. "You can use lighter words, Rafa."
"I am sorry, They don't exist in my dictionary."
"Where was I?" Rafa questioned Anjum taking her seat back. Anjum glanced unsettled with Yahya's reaction.
Yahya nodded in her direction affirming her not to worry.
"Oh yeah!" Rafa ignored both of them and continued. "His adolescent hormones blinded his vision and his high school life seemed more appealing to him than the whole conversion."
"He didn't convert then?" Anjum asked aloud to Rafa, in her haste she forgot the said person was sitting in front of her.
"No. Not at that time," Yahya replied in the place of Rafa making Anjum blush with embarrassment, "I felt ashamed to have them as my family so when I graduated high school, I went out for University. I joined the soccer team and I was in the team until I was twenty three," he stopped, memories of the prudent accident clash landed on his brain cells.
"He had a leg injury and was removed from the team, claiming to be unfit, Anjum," Rafa said, "That's when he came back to us. In a state of complete depression for losing everything. Each of his hard work went down the drain when he fractured his fibula. That time wouldn't listen to any of us. He remained cocooned in his room and it was around the time when my Grandma with whom we lived most of our lives passed away."
Rafa took a sip of her juice, "We both became the blanket of hope without speaking with each other. On one night I was listening to the meaning of the Quran. It was from the first chapter when Yahya walked inside my room to keep my laundry clothes, the phone was on speaker and he accidentally listened to it. His hands stilled, placing the clothes on my bed, and his conflicting gaze met mine."
""Or [it is] like a rainstorm from the sky within which is darkness, thunder and lightning. They put their fingers in their ears against the thunderclaps in dread of death. But Allah is encompassing of the disbelievers."
(QS. Al-Baqara 2: Verse 19)
The Sheikh was saying that the Quran is brought down from Heaven like the rain, and even though how beautiful the rain is, it often comes with darkness, thunder and lightning. As such, the journey to learn the Quran isn't easy, it is filled with obstacles, the Quran is the light amidst darkness. It is the cure to the sickness of the hearts. To attain it we have to strive very hard, nothing will be achieved by sitting idle. And when the words of Allah have been recited, we shouldn't put a finger on our ears and block it. That day, I didn't block my ears from hearing the truth. I listened. I heard," Yahya said, magic in his voice. A deep feeling of harmony washed over his facial features.
"I heard, it ripped open my heart and bathed it into purity. The shadows of sadness that lurked in my window were lighted with the rays of the glorious Sun. I felt calm. I felt peace. Alhamdulillah! Then I embraced Islam. I embraced the truth."
A silence of awe filled the atmosphere, an epiphany of calmness breezed through the air.
A proud smile etched over Anjum's lips as she finished the last of her Fajita chicken.
"And you know what? Even though Yahya embraced Islam years after me, he beat me in the memorization of the Quran. I still am stuck at the same place," Rafa licked her spoon and placed it over her empty plate.
"Where?" Anjum laughed.
"Surah Asr?"
"Masha Allah! I know a handful of people who are born Muslims and know only the last three surahs."
"Really? That means I should feel proud about my accomplishments," Rafa chuckled.
Not knowing what got into her, Anjum turned towards Yahya. "How much have you memorised?"
Yahya rubbed the back of his head, "Till Surah Burooj?"
"Masha Allah!" Anjum whispered, looking at her lap.
"Now tell us where do you stand, Anjum?" Rafa asked in excitement.
Feeling the eyes on her face, her olive skin started to burn, "I have memorised till Surah Naba."
"Woah! That's a whole part," Rafa put a hand over her mouth in admonition and Yahya shook his head at his sister's antics, "Barakallahu feekum," he chimed.
"Aashiq bhai was a Hafiz-e-Quran. In order to challenge him, I memorised a part from the thirty parts and that's all I could do, in shaa Allah should spare time for it again."
"That's huge, Anjum. Give yourself some credits. Masha Allah, I am so proud to be your friend," Rafa gleamed.
"It's not even a big number."
"Trust me! For us it's the biggest," Rafa stood up, taking her empty plate in her hand.
"Uh! Okay?" Anjum replied, following suit.
Anjum then helped Rafa clear the dishes and also put them on the dishwasher. After sharing a light chit-chat, Anjum addressed that she was getting late.
"How are you going?"
"Hire an Uber?"
"You didn't bring a ride?" Rafa further enquired placing the leftover chicken inside the fridge.
"My chauffeur wasn't feeling well, so I gave him a leave."
"Oh! Yahya will drop you then. You can trust him more than the Uber driver," Rafa smirked while Anjum started to shake her head to deny the offer.
Yahya, who was silently listening to their conversation from the dining hall, walked up to the kitchen island and they both turned towards him. "Rafa might also give her company."
Rafa was about to start to argue that she was tired but was startled when Yahya suddenly pulled her hand and rushed her towards the side. "One sec?" he called out to Anjum with an apologising smile.
"What?" Rafa folded her arms on her bosom.
"You know when a man and woman are alone, then the third person is Shaytan, so you better replace yourself in his place."
"Did you just call me Shaytan?"
"Are you not?" Yahya laughed ruffling the bangs that fell on her forehead, turning towards a perplexed Anjum, he added, "She is coming, don't worry."
That's how they ended up dropping Anjum on her mansion with a quick stop at Baskin Robbins only to stretch the time and the bill was on Yahya's card, of course on Rafa's suggestion.
Not that he cared.
For when he retreated back to the confines of his room, he felt full, not on his stomach but on his heart.
He felt his heart sore to fullness because of the presence of a certain someone at the dinner. Someone very special.
Saroosh: I am rereading the dinner scene right now and 😂🤭 I feel like I'm the fourth person there.
Sumaiya: Lol, I am probably Meenu, sitting at the end of the table and licking chicken bones. (PS, added a reply just now for jokes sake XD)
quick prayer for our amazing beta reader Tanisha who has important exams coming up. May Allah succeed you and open doors for you. Ameen.