19th April, 2020
"Abu Hurairah narrated: that the Prophet said: 'When you pay the Zakat you have fulfilled what is required of you.'" Reference: Tirmidhi
Chapter 13:
Blurring The Lines
"I did it." Samir said, a sullen expression settling over his face as he dropped into his chair. "I asked her to marry me."
"What did she say?" Laeeq asked, as Joseph looked up from the book he was reading.
"Nothing." Samir replied.
"What does that mean?" Joseph wondered, closing the book he held.
"What's with the sour mood?" Laeeq questioned. "This is what you wanted, right?"
"Yeah, she didn't say no, but didn't say yes either." Samir told them, and Laeeq almost detected a different kind of hurt behind his words.
"This is what you were supposed to expect, Samir." Laeeq spoke.
"It's just not how I imagined it would be." Samir said after a while. "With the reaction I got, I felt like I was completing a formality, not asking the woman I love to marry me. It was like... That feeling when you think it's going to rain after years, but it doesn't."
"Let go of the worry, you've prayed Istikhaara and gotten a green signal. You've told her everything you wanted-- I mean, everything you can." Laeeq advised. "Whatever happens will be for the best."
"Are you actually disappointed?" Joseph asked in concern.
"No, Alhamdulillah." Samir sighed. "Her reactions always had this effect on me. I'm fine, I'll be better when she agrees though."
Laeeq regarded him for a few seconds before nodding. Deciding to return a book from the library, he walked out of their office. The word 'love' always left a bitter taste on his tongue. He was done with scurrying through those dark tunnels. There was a time when he truly believed in its magic, a time when all its definitions made sense.
And the moment he believed in it, she had taken it away with her in the blink of an eye. One day she was right there in front of him, and the next she was gone. And he hadn't found the courage to trust himself ever again.
It had taken him months to start healing, they were long and agonising. He felt ill every time he thought about it, all those words and feelings he had wasted, haunted him to no end. Sometimes, when his heart decided to experiment, he found himself scared out of his wits. But even if the same old feelings surfaced, he knew he would never go down that path.
Until he was struggling not to blur the lines again.
At first, the fact that Leila Muhammad was on his mind more than necessary bothered him. He felt like someone had intruded his space. It all started that fateful day when he had seen her outside, climbing down from an ambulance. He didn't know what it was, she stood out to him from the sea of faces he saw everyday. Almost like a strange light that sent its warmth straight to his heart.
She had been around for a long time after that, he had seen her around the hospital. All she did was speak gently to those around her, carry a smile he couldn't forget, and leave a trail of intelligence wherever she visited. He even heard that she had befriended one of the cleaning ladies, and it seemed almost surreal that she thought it was normal. Laeeq had never really bothered about them, it kind of made him feel self conscious. It made him question his principles.
He wasn't sure why he was thinking about it so much, perhaps because his heart craved for something that his mind had forgotten how to register. There was something about her that made it seem like he knew that gentle soul long before he met her.
The 'thing' he seemed to have for her blew out of proportion when he found out that she was organising a Zakat depository by tying up Vitals Hospital with Diamond Masjid Group. It was planned such that whoever paid their Zakah to Diamond Masjid Group would be indirectly helping the sponsorable patients at the hospital.
He thought that was beautiful. Paving a way for others to collect good deeds seemed to be a thing he could attribute to her.
Finally rushing out of the elevator he had taken, he walked towards the library. His hand was already hurting under the weight of the heavy book as he reached the counter.
"Mrs. Shelly, can I--?" Laeeq stopped speaking abruptly, for in place of the Librarian, stood Leila Muhammad.
"Yes?" Leila asked.
"Uh... I was looking for Mrs. Shelly." Laeeq said, confusedly. The hospital's library was always teeming with readers, but not to the point that Mrs. Shelly would need a helper.
"I'm Mrs. Shelly for today." Leila spoke. "She's unavailable at the moment due to an emergency."
"Aah, okay." Laeeq relaxed, for Leila's sudden appearance had left his mind a little disheveled.
"So what do you need help with?" Leila asked, catching his train of thoughts.
"I wanted to return this book." Laeeq said, putting a heavy medical journal on the counter between them. "And also pick out a fictional one."
"Okay." Leila said, finding the bar-code reader to enroll the book into the library again.
"I thought you were in the Finance Department?" He wondered aloud as she typed away at the computer.
"I am." She confirmed, her gaze resting on the screen.
"Then how are you here?" He asked.
She probably felt a little weird at my sudden interest.
He thought, and mentally smacked himself.
"I am a reader too, that's why. Mrs. Shelly trusts me, don't worry." She raised an eyebrow, as if asking if he had an objection. "I know library politics."
"I didn't know people who liked numbers, liked words too." Laeeq spoke.
"I didn't know people who liked sewing skin together liked fictional worlds either." Leila shot back, a little hurt.
Laeeq laughed, her smart replies rendering him speechless before his mind pulled him back to the real world, with a few sparks going off in his head.
"I think it's a side effect of having a writer as a best friend." She spoke, his laugh making her smile. "Her ID is @KareemaHussein if you ever plan on reading poems."
"In Shaa Allah, I will try to find time for that. And... The fictional book isn't for me, it's for my sister." He clarified.
"'Aisha?" She asked, referring to the overly-chatty girl who had come to deliver a cake the other day.
"That's her." He nodded, surprised that Leila remembered.
"Okay, all the best finding a suitable book." She said, handing him the library card.
"Actually, I was hoping Mrs. Shelly would help me through it." Laeeq said truthfully. "I am not a regular visitor over there."
"Mrs. Shelly to the rescue, then." Leila said, walking around the counter and asking him to head towards the Fiction Section.
The library was housed on the seventh floor of the hospital, making it a place of cool breezes when the windows were open. It was expanded to occupy almost three-fourths of the area, and it housed more than a thousand books; most of them being non-fiction. But Leila loved the cozy fictional corner. With three bookshelves dedicated to it, Leila had enough reading material to last her a few months. Or maybe even a few years if she decided not to be picky. Mrs. Shelly's favourite member even had access to the computer, as Leila had filled in for the Librarian more than a few times in the last three weeks.
They walked past a group of medical students doing a project with large, heavy material. Leila had only given then permission to use the library if they promised not to disturb anyone else, and so far, they hadn't. With Laeeq leading the way, the walked past the magazine stands and round reading tables.
"What kinds of books does she read?" Leila asked as they arrived at the first bookshelf.
"I'm not really sure." Laeeq shrugged. "I mean, she's not much of a reader either."
"Sorry, wrong question. What kinds of stories does she like?" Leila asked, quickly reframing her question.
"Definitely not ones with princesses in it." Laeeq chuckled. "She's more into warrior stories, rich geography and all that."
"Adventures?" Leila guessed. "Historical fiction? Mystery?"
"Historical fiction would be great." Laeeq agreed.
Leila nodded and started skimming through the titles, her fingers resting on the spines on the books as she searched. Laeeq waited patiently, his eyes running past the pages and pages of different voices. His mind had always disregarded the fictional side of a library, he was too busy studying the facts. To allow himself a luxury like that sounded too straining, he knew how his mind worked.
"About what you said earlier..." He spoke, making her glance at him before going back to her job. "Dr. Fatima is someone who is an avid reader."
"She's the grand exception to the medically-driven genepool, huh?" Leila quipped.
"Hey, we're not that bad." Laeeq chuckled at her choice of words.
"I'm being general." Leila said quickly, after finally pulling a book out of the shelves. "You guys are not bad at all." She seemed a little worried.
"I know." His voice was gentle, and somehow, it seemed to relax her. "I heard about the Zakat thing you're organising for Ramadhan, by the way."
"We are organising it, yes." She emphasised, handing him The Plague, by Albert Camus.
"But it's your idea, right?" He asked, wondering why she kept generalising her sentences.
"Yes. My idea." Leila replied.
"You can be humble and give yourself the credit you deserve at the same time." He spoke.
You are just like me. A voice spoke in his head as she nodded. It's very uncomfortable to handle praises, I know... Wait, did I just praise you?
"Thank you." She smiled. "Oh, this one's an amazing read." She said as he turned the book over in his hands. "Mr. Camus is known to be the ultimate lyricist of the Absurd, a condition, he believed, 'born of the confrontation between the human call and the unreasonable silence of the world'. He wrote to fill that silence. I think he's done a wonderful job, it's one of my favourites."
"I'll let 'Aisha know that." He said in a thankful tone. Even if most of it had gone above his head, the way she spoke made sense to him.
"If she finds it too heavy for a first read, I'm sure the real Mrs. Shelly can find something better." Leila spoke, her back to the first bookshelf. "I'm a little biased in recommendati--"
There was a loud noise behind her, and Laeeq's eyes suddenly focused behind her. What she couldn't see was a tower of books falling dangerously in their direction. Impulsively, Laeeq grabbed her hand and pulled her to safety as the bookshelf crashed into another, and another, until they were met with the wall. Several screams echoed through the library, including Leila's. Laeeq let go of her immediately, and called out to check if there was anyone else under the pile of books.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" He asked, assessing her.
"I'm okay." She said, still in shock. "Allahu akbar, what on earth just happened?"
Laeeq was already gone to make sure he hadn't missed anyone's call of help as the Librarian and other staff rushed into the room. Leila stood rooted in her spot, it had been a very close call. She could've been injured horribly if it wasn't for him. When it was later investigated, the medical students had accidentally staked up heavy cylinders behind the fictional bookshelf, thinking that nobody would be using that part of the library anyway. Leila has disturbed the balance when she had pulled The Plague out of the shelf.
Later, she almost laughed when her brain came up with an absurd statement. It told her... Somewhere in the universe, there must be a rule that says when you fall for bookshelves, they fall for you too.
But it was Laeeq who couldn't help but analyse a poem by a poet who was recommended to him, whilst thinking of Leila. He had started to like the feeling that they were reading it together. He didn't know where those words stemmed from, nor was he sure how it made sense to him. Even if the poet was stringing words together long before he knew Leila Muhammad, the words stung his heart, and he felt like he was home again.
Blurring The Lines - A Poem by @KareemaHussain
I may not have walked for hours with you
But I can see your soles are worn out
It must be a path taken by the fortunate few
And I've learnt; to your heart, it's the only route
You must have lived heavy stories
And then you console, saying; "He is the Author"
That, you tell me, is enough appease
I have never heard a cure that's wiser
If you've stayed up for long enough in the night
You'll know about the first cold breeze at four
Hurling my thoughts out for a new flight
Searching for you across the moor
How do I say, may we meet again, I miss you already?
Making the angels rush to say ameen
What are those words to honour our memory?
Seeking peace for the heart from the Unseen
Wouldn't you let me listen, ey sevgilim?
Those heartbeats don't just keep you alive
Dictating me by their fancy and whim
Telling me there's no feeling they can't revive
Place your hand over your heart with ease
Doesn't it tell you it belongs to me too?
What stops you from listening to its pleas?
To me, they seem gentler than morning dew
And when the miracle of tiny feet arrive
We would have crossed the bridge together
When the ends of the Earth blossom and thrive
You will remember me as more than an admirer
So bring upon us the beautiful chaos in your eyes
I want to stand with you through the storms
Teach me how to wait whilst hunting the skies
Let us blur the lines of the norms