"Take off from work early today. There are some people coming to see you."
I was having my breakfast after getting ready to leave for work, when Mummy's words caused my hand on the spoon to halt midway. I looked up at her, but said nothing.
"And don't even think about wearing that horrendous turban of yours!" Mummy exclaimed with a hint of disgust, referring to my very basic and subtle hijab wearing style.
"Did that Quran teacher of yours put you up to this?" She paused in the middle of her breakfast to shoot me a deathly glare. I, who had been silently suffering this assault for the past week finally spoke in my teacher's defence.
"Of course not!" I cried out in shock but she paid no heed to my protest.
"People look at everything! They take everything into consideration! If you're so obsessed about Parda then do it after marriage!" Mummy interjected furiously and I still kept my head down.
It had been half a year since that Sarim incident. And I had gone through countless proposals since then. It was all really pushing me to the brink of insanity. Sitting through all these pointless proposals was bad enough on its own, but the absolute worst was my parents insistence in considering some proposal they thought to be the best for me. More than anything else, I would find that to be the hardest and most painful part. I would sit on the prayer mat begging Allah to turn it away from me with khair o aafiya, if it wasn't the one written for me. As always, Allah SWT would answer my prayers.
And suddenly one day, 2 weeks ago, when it had all become too much and unbearable for me, I finally gave in. I realised then, that the reason everything was turning into such a mess was because I was trying to create a middle path between Allah's commandments and my own Nafs' desires. The truth was, that I hadn't completely submitted to Allah's will. I was only obeying Allah in matters that were convenient for me and used my own sense of wisdom in matters where I wished to avoid doing things as per Allah's commandments.
But that's where I and so many like me went wrong. We can't pick and choose from religion. The main reason for our sufferings was that we placed our own desires above Allah's will. When, the actual meaning of Islam was, 'submission to the will of Allah'. Which encompassed our every single thought and action. And unless I did that, I would forever stay as lost and helpless, as I was now and would never be able to attain true success, happiness and peace in Dunya or Akhirah. And that's exactly what Allah SWT mentioned for us in Quran.
"O you who have believed, enter into Islam completely [and perfectly] and do not follow the footsteps of Satan. Indeed, he is to you a clear enemy." (Quran 2:208)
So, I gave up something that was very beloved to me and even harder to stand up for. All in exchange for His will and pleasure, which was slowly but surely becoming dearer to me than anything and everything this world had to offer.
"Don't you understand that you've crossed 24 already! Do you see the kind of proposals you're getting?! The good ones reject us—and then these few are the ones which are worth considering but they too reject you because of this hijab you've started!" Dad added angrily, referring to the last 2 proposals since I started hijab, which I didn't like in the first place.
"Before you barely wore proper clothes. And now this—" Mummy grumbled which was seconded by Dad. I clenched the muscles of my neck to stop myself from saying anything in response.
'Don't even say uff--You can't even say uff, Musfirah.' I kept reminding myself through hot and angry tears pooling in my eyes.
"You need to walk together with the world—Why do you always have to be so extreme? The world is going to shun you if you continue this way. We are only saying this for your benefit." He said finally and left the table.
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My gaze fixated to the mirror attached to dressing table was beginning to blurry as Mummy's words from earlier reverberated against my ears once again.
"People look at everything! They take everything into consideration! If you're so obsessed about Parda then do it after marriage!"
Despite trying my hardest to ignore their hurtful words, I couldn't stop the tears pooling in my eyes from streaming down.
"You need to walk together with the world—Why do you always have to be so extreme? The world is going to shun you if you continue this way. We are only saying this for your benefit."
My lips quivered on recalling Dad's comments, causing a sharp gasp to escape my lips which I had to bite down on.
'Look, how pretty you look with you hair down. There wasn't a gathering when everyone didn't stop to compliment on how pretty you looked. You were the prettiest girl in the room because of how beautifully you carried yourself—but now! No one is going to spare a second glance at you! No one is going to find you pretty with that thing on your head. It's going to be just like Dad said—You're going to be ostracised and become one of those rejected people who nobody wishes to associate with.'
A voice whispered from within me and my fingers brushing through my long silky locks halted midway.
'How much more, Ya Allah? When will my trials end? Is there ever going to come a day when I don't feel tired?' The thought caused fresh onset of tears to sting the corner of my eyes and I averted my gaze with a gulp; roughly rubbing away my tears with the back of my hand. Still sniffing through tears, I began to tie my hair into a bun.
For the first time I was doing something solely for the approval and love of Allah SWT, by forsaking my own desires. So how could I even for a fleeting second think that He was going to forsake me, or let me be ridiculed in front of all these people? How could anything, anyone said, prevail me to believe that He wasn't going to compensate me for this with unimaginable and infinitely blessed ways; when He had always blessed me before inspite of my halfhearted worshiping?
'Whom do you love the most?' A voice echoed within me.
'Allah.' The answer came without a break.
'Are you sure? Even more than your own self?' The doubtful voice insisted again and was followed by a moment's silence.
'Even more than my own self.' My conscience admitted finally and a tear filled smile finally formed across my face.
'The One whom I have submitted my soul to and sacrificed my desires to earn His pleasure is going to become enough for me. And He is never going to let me be disgraced in front of this world. InshaAllah He is going to honour me and uplift me in this world and in the next—And InshaAllah I will be standing with my held high that day.'
Tears continued to drip down my cheeks as I thought this to myself; however like every time, before, this time too they didn't escape the notice of Ash-Shaheed (The Witness).
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I could hear Mummy getting tea ready with the maid from inside my room but didn't dare take a step outside; lest Mummy made me take it off. So I quietly strolled around my room waiting till summoned.
"They are here—" Mummy came in, although I had got up from my place already after hearing for her.
"Didn't I tell you to take that thing off?! Get rid of it now! Your father is going to set you straight otherwise!" She bellowed, referring to my hijab. I didn't say anything in response. Instead, gulped down my tears and kept my head down whilst walking beside her towards the lounge where the guests were seated.
"Assalamualaikum." I stepped in after Mum and went forward to hug the lady and smiled a greeting at the man sitting across from her with Dad and his toddler son.
"How are you?" The well dressed and sweet looking lady in her mid-thirties smiled at me warmly, after I sat down on the couch next to her. In an instant I felt a rush of pleasantness wash over my existence. In the past 2 years and more, I had met a lot of people and some of them were really nice too. Just like her. But I never liked the guy they would bring the proposal for. Not that was there anything wrong with him necessarily. It just never felt...right.
"Good, Alhumdulillah." I answered with a genuine smile, which was reciprocated by her. After asking some basic questions about my education and work, she asked me something which I hadn't necessarily anticipated. But wasn't much of a surprise either. However, what literally left me dumbstruck and speechless was her response to my answer.
"Do you wear this everywhere?" She asked, eyeing my hijab and I gulped down my reaction and focussed on keeping a straight and confident face.
'Let them say whatever they want, Musfi. You're doing this for Allah.' I reassured myself for the nth time.
"Yes." My curt reply came without a break and so did hers.
"That's very good." She returned well pleased and I was left staggered.
"I am trying to do it properly too. But unfortunately, I become lax occasionally." She tilted her head with a hint of remorse, referring to the dupatta set on her head loosely.
"My two younger sisters do it like you too, mashaAllah. And inshaAllah I plan to too, someday." She elaborated with a genuine smile; making my heart flood with warmth and gratitude. She went on to ask me about my routine and other stuff, before elaborating the details about her younger brother whose proposal she had brought forth.
"Ibrahim is the second last amongst us 5 siblings. I am the eldest, Samiya and then comes Ambreen, Bilal, Ibrahim and then Asma is the youngest." Samiya explained to me and my mother, while Samiya's husband was discussing business with Dad.
"He finished his undergrad in Accounting and Finance from University of Strathclyde, Scotland on scholarship. It took him a while, because he was working side by side for the rest of his tuition fees. It's been 2 years now that he has been working there as an Accountant in Government office."
I turned my gaze down after hearing her. Before now, I had no idea as to who was coming or what. Usually, the matchmaker guy would sent the guy's profile to us first, including his picture; which Dad mostly shared with me too. Until now, thanks to my sixth sense, I was able to tell right away if this was not the One. Heck, I had been right on spot even with my sister's proposals. However, sitting here, even without having spared a single glance at him, I silently prayed to Allah in my heart that if Ibrahim was the ONE I had been praying for all these years, then may Allah SWT make it mine with utmost khair o aafiyah and finally put an end to my trials.
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"Most of all I didn't like the sister—! She doesn't even know about her parents caste and where their original village was." Mummy remarked hotly and turned her gaze towards the TV, away from Dad. It had been 3 days since they came and immediately after they had left, Mummy had expressed her strong disapproval for the proposal.
After rejecting more than 70 proposals in almost 3 years, I had become thickskinned and mostly used to all this. But what tired me was the mere thought of standing up to my parents for my hijab.
With a tired sigh, I returned my attention to my meal.
"Your own kids don't know anything about that." Dad's reply came without a break.
"Even so. Why did his parents not come themselves directly when they are living in the same city." Mummy continued the argument.
"She said it herself that was because they are elderly and she was representing them, being the eldest." Dad didn't give up.
"Apart from everything—The boy took more than 6 years to complete a four years bachelors degree. Comes off as pretty lazy and laid-back about education. And he has just barely got done with bachelors. Your own son not only finished his bachelors from an IVY league, but also got internship in a multinational firm and is now doing his MBA." Mummy's heated remarks came in full force, as she presented my younger brother Musa's example.
"That's because Musa's father was capable of paying his hefty international tuition fees." Dad refuted Mummy's complaints but if I was stubborn, then that lady was surely my Mother.
"And he isn't anything much to look at either—" Mummy's final comment piqued my attention and I glanced up from the plate of Biryani in my lap.
"Well, he isn't much of a looker—but it's not the worst either." I gulped the sip of my drink at Dad's words and kept my face as blank as humanly possible.
"Have you seen it?" Dad directed his attention to me, referring to the pictures Dad had on his phone.
"Nopes." I returned indifferently and Dad extended his phone towards me. I took it from his hand and immediately without realizing my eyebrows shot up in surprise.
'Oh. He isn't bad at all—Looks pretty neat and decent.' I thought to myself and wondered whatever did Dad and Mummy meant. Because in my eyes, he looked way more pleasing than all those guys I had come across before. And even if he didn't have the picture perfect looks, he was still way, way better than all those rich, weird guys my parents pushed me towards, but Alhumdulillah Allah had turned them away from me with khair o aafiya.
My sister always said 'your internal alarm would go off when you first lay eyes on him' and although with a few guys I tried to manually ring that alarm, by listing down all the reasons which made them the perfect choice; yet, Allah would show me soon enough how wrong I was.
Was it because what was ours instinctively resonated with us? I wouldn't know though...
"But we don't even have any other options. He is the best pick amongst whatever we have right now in our hands. And they had gone back and immediately expressed their consent to the matchmaker. She said we could meet their parents and get relieved of whatever concerns that had popped up in our heads about their background and caste—" Papa went on and on, while I stood up.
From my past experiences, it might all amount to nothing. Since there's no changing Mummy's mind. And she had never expressed this much discontentment about anyone else before. So, whatever Musfirah. It is what it is. You did your part. And only Allah is aware of His hikmahs. He will get you through InshaAllah.
I was busy giving myself a pep talk and preparing myself for the long and hard battle I had to continue fighting for some time more, until Allah's best timing came to pass. That's when I was stopped by Dad's voice.
"What do you think? If you're in agreement, we can give this one more chance." I blankly watched his face for a moment and then pressed my lips together in a stiff smile.
"If you guys think it's alright then okay."
"Whoever we decide on, it will be with your consent only. It's you who would be spending your life with that person afterall and we only wish for you to be happy. And InshaAllah, I firmly believe this, that Allah will grant you with best of the best." Dad continued and I felt tears pricking the corners of my eyes, which I had to hide from Dad by averting my gaze.
In response, I could only nod my head and utter Ameen in my heart.
Assalamualaikum! JazakAllah Khairun for reading. Hope you liked it InshaAllah ☺️