In the Name of Allah, the Most Gracious, the Most Merciful
‘Peace and Blessings of Allah be upon our beloved Prophet and Master Muhammad (s.a.s), all his blessed descendents and noble companions.’
-Aameen.
Dedicated to my every reader and their beautiful Duas… ❤️
Chapter Thirty-One
When the die is finally cast…
Chennai, India
The sturdy, tall trees surrounding the Masjid welcomed the cool, fresh air of the early morning as it rustled and murmured among their leaves to shake and wake.
Then moving gently, it whispered and sprinkled dewy drops upon the nodding flowers, nudging them to rise and bloom, for another beautiful morning has come – and while the birds chirped or sang gaily praising their Lord, the sunny yellow ball was an enchanting beauty to behold in the blue-grey heavens as it rose amidst a splash of deep purple that soon mellowed into soft lavender and within seconds turned into ravishing pink.
The young man, who was leaning casually from the cold stone balustrade of the Masjid’s balcony after Fajr Salah, was gazing at the display of superb play of colours changing in a matter of seconds and wondered Who but Al Musawwir (The Fashioner) alone could paint such magnificent sunrises every single day, yet no day resembled another of before.
To Saif, this breath-taking sight seemed to evoke the memory of another beautiful sunrise that he had watched together with his younger sister from a cruise ship not a month back.
The dark eyes softened and his lips curved into a tender smile as his mind seemed to recall her sweet words that she had said in her melodious voice, her eyes literally clinging to the sight of mesmerizing dawn breaking upon the majestic sea in a beauty that made one thank the Lord fervently just for allowing to watch it…
I like night more than dusk Saif Bhaiya and dawn more than night. For dawn, Dawn is Allah SWT’s one of the most beautiful blessings. It is His sign of Hope, of Light, of Truth, of Beauty, of the Knowledge that He has granted yet another day for you to repent!
It is His way of showing that He loves us still, if only we would care to see, if only we would remove the veil of our heart by shedding a tear in His remembrance.
I love dawn, for dawn comes after we repent. The ever-spreading Noor and beauty of dawn are the repenter’s gift –dispelling the darkness from their heart and soul, for those who repent are those who love Him…they are humbled by His Mercy –His Glorious Magnificence! And their hearts are torn in delight at the knowledge that HE loves them in return!
Saif closed his eyes with a long sigh and wondered perhaps for the thousandth time in his life how he had been blessed by such a sister as Humaira. He was not surprised that he could remember her every word, for they had become etched into his heart, the way words do when others speak from their own heart…
One memory of the cruise led to another and another and before he knew, the carefully guarded chamber in his heart was open and in front of his eyes, he saw Maryam again… Saif knew it was folly to dwell upon her yet now in the lightening dawn, he simply stood there like one who had been cast a spell, the dark eyes becoming oblivious to the beauty of the heavens and earth, for they were gazing upon her beauty.
Moments passed and when the power of controlling the wandering thoughts was his again, Saif’s fingers were unconsciously gripping the cold balustrade almost vice-like. He shivered, not because of the cool air and felt his throat had gone dry as he turned and walked away like one in a dream. His final lingering thought was –if only he could forget her look or her words that she had said then… maybe he will, when he finally goes back to the Madrasa in a few days, for then he won’t have time to remember or dream or have distracted thoughts –
But Saif was yet to learn that sometimes to forget the anguished look and broken words of a True Love, even a lifetime is not enough.
***
Minnesota, U.S.A.
“Hey watch it…”
Maryam scowled at the man who had bumped into her as she came outside the supermarket, and then promptly forgot her fallen bag of groceries.
“Joe!”
“Whoa Jen, is that really you?”
The tall man broad shouldered man was looking at Maryam with disbelieving eyes as she stood there regarding him with a peculiar smile.
“It’s me alright!”
“I can’t…believe. What I mean is you look different.” Joe circled around Maryam who laughed and bent down to gather her scattered items.
What Joe wanted to say was, she looked beautiful –breathtakingly beautiful.
He reached down and began to help her gather, but she had nearly picked up all the things.
“So I saw in FB you managed to bag the scholarship and the desired course in the Uni…?” Maryam said with a smile, as they both began to walk towards her car.
He smiled back at her with a nod, and Maryam noted with twinkling eyes that it was the same charming one-sided smile, which had made all the girls in their school fall easily for him. And not to forget the fact that he had been the high school’s Sport’s Star.
“And I heard that you took fashion designing, what happened to the modeling dream?” Joe asked, his gaze scanning her whole figure and finally resting upon the long damask-rose scarf that covered her head and fell into graceful folds over her chest and arms.
“Well I woke up,” Maryam still smiling placed the bags carefully on the passenger seat, then locking the door turned towards him.
Joe looking at her with a frown wondered about her words, and remembered how she had attracted him even in school with her air of aloofness though she belonged in the same popular group. He as others had finally accepted the fact that though she was warm and friendly – she never allowed anyone to become close to her.
And he should know all about it, for he had tried a bit hard than the others …and had succeeded twice in taking her out, not to forget the night when he had kissed her…
“Sorry Jen, what did you say?” Joe mentally kicked himself as his gaze again flickered over her.
“I said your parents must have been very proud…” Maryam returned his gaze with a knowing glance, the smile hovering around her lips.
He grinned understanding her look. “Yea yea I guess they were, hey what do you say to some ice-cream?”
“Now?”
“Yep.”
Maryam shook her head. “I don’t have time Joe, I’m sorry…”
“Then a cup of coffee …or dinner or lunch, whatever you say…what about tomorrow?”
To his every suggestion, Maryam continued shaking her head with laughing eyes.
“No no Joe I’m really sorry. I have become very busy you know,” Her smile deepened and the man finally understood that she had once again slipped, only this time she seemed to have gone to a distance, which even he couldn’t reach with his charm. He resigned to the fate with another mental shake.
“Say Jen, what’s this thing you are covered with?” He finally asked, as Maryam started the car. “Is it the new thing in the fashion for girls?”
Maryam looked at him, her dark eyes almost dancing as she chuckled, “Why do you say that?”
He shrugged, and then flashed his one-sided smile. “Well… ‘cause you study the fashion thing, plus you’re wearing it, and…you look absolutely beautiful in it.”
“Do I? Thank you! And Joe, give my love to Sam…”
Her laughter was the last thing he heard as she sped away and Joe had the uneasy feeling that she hadn’t taken him seriously. And Samantha or popularly Sam, was his gorgeous girlfriend since high school.
The next day, as Maryam stepped inside the lift to reach Sophia’s flat, she experienced a queer sense of déjà vu when she found herself alone with three young men. Though they blatantly stared at her pretty figure dressed in a black top and dark full skirt, it was her crushed white Hijab that had their attention as they eyed it suspiciously. And before their thoughts could gather or pin her a name, Maryam had exited from their company.
“Maryam my darling! God you look enchanting!” Sophia exclaimed as they both hugged affectionately.
Sophia, who had been on a modeling trip to New York since Maryam came back from the cruise, had arrived only yesterday. She had begged Maryam to come and meet her soon and her excuse had been she was utterly fagged from the journey and everything.
“And you look ravishing, just like always.” Maryam smiled as Sophia pulled her to sit beside her on the sofa.
“I guess so sweet heart I guess so, that’s my job after all – to look ravishing…” She said dryly as her gaze seemed to drink in the sight of Maryam.
“…But you look beautiful, what did you find in your Cruise, some secret potion of beauty?”
Maryam shook her head, chuckling. “Oh I’m just the same Soph…you find me so ‘cause maybe I’m happy or maybe perhaps I have found the secret potion of peace…”
The emerald eyes lost their coolness as they gazed intently at Maryam, taking in her whole appearance and her words.
“Yes,” She finally said slowly. “Yes…happiness and peace, isn’t that what every person out there is searching for? And you say you have find them both! And guess what, looking at you now Maryam, I think you’re speaking the Truth…”
“Of course I’m!” Maryam laughed, her dark eyes much softened as they rested upon Sophia. Two days back, she had got the first mail – Humaira’s… asking her how she was doing etc.,
…remember what I said about Chennai’s heat Maryam? It’s so now, the sun gleefully blazes the whole day and the nights perhaps are a little cool Alhamdulillah…and Saif Bhaiya is almost healed now, he has been itching to go back to his Madrasa for the past week and I guess it will finally occur this coming weekend. And how is your father doing? Can you believe Umar has become naughtier (if that could be possible!) ever since he joined his new grade and only the thought of Saif Bhaiya’s displeasure keeps him in check…
Humaira had spoken only the ordinary incidents, not a word of or about love…yet her words had hid a wealth of understanding and love as she talked to Maryam as if she was a fond familiar member of their family. And who could say, perhaps this was the reason for Maryam’s glowing happiness while she felt peace spread in her heart every time when she softly said to herself – Hasbi Allah!
***
Chennai, India
Three days had passed since that memorable breakdown of Humaira in front of her Dadima, three days of suffering, pain as fever took hold of her… And perhaps that was good, for Humaira slumbering fitfully through the days forgot why her heart quivered and cried while the image of the dream had dulled, except for the odd times when Kadhija while she tenderly nursed, caught her daughter tossing restlessly in her sleep as she whispered pleadingly, “…It’s only a dream ya Allah it’s only a dream….”
It was the evening of the fifth day and Abdullah catching sight of his younger daughter when he came home, called her and instructed to get ready after Maghrib. The same he said to Kadhija and so both the mother and daughter awaited his return from Masjid while they stood attired in their abayas and Niqaab after having prayed their Salah.
Kadhija sat beside Abdullah while Humaira sat behind in the car as they drove away, Abdullah talking in his deep warm tone,
“It’s a case of a Muslim orphan girl that came to my friend, Abu Bakr. Someone had spotted her and brought it to his notice. He applied for her in the Anjuman School, where they bring up orphan children but it seems they were more than full with not a single vacancy. As there were not many Muslim Girls Orphanages here, he tried some other places and at last joined her in one which was in a village, near Tanjavur district. This was a month ago. But the girl Mubeena, had called him from there and had begged him to come back and take her away.
She came back last week and is now residing in her granny’s home who thinks her as a burden and the old woman is now pestering Abu Bakr to take her away…”
From the rearview mirror, Abdullah caught the shocked look in his daughter’s eyes and nodded grimly.
“Poverty without Deen to guide you my child, leaves one mercenary – bitter and hard… Abu Bakr asked my Mashwara, the girl Mubeena though only fifteen years, is almost a young woman now. And neither Abu Bakr nor I can talk freely and understand the wishes of the child, so I’m taking you both there to her granny’s home now, speak with her Humair and get to know why she refuses to go back to the Orphanage…maybe Allah SWT will show a way…”
They stopped near a shop where Kadhija bought snacks and chocolates for the girl, while Humaira’s mind wondered about this orphaned child.
Parking the car there, they walked the rest of the way as the streets had narrowed considerably. Almost all the houses were built side by side, without any space in between and their appearance was worn and dreary while the street itself was abounding in loud noise and squalor.
Abdullah paused near a place, and indicated with his head for his wife and daughter to enter.
As Humaira stepped inside, she realized it was a small passage while gravel crunched beneath her feet. She looked behind and saw that her father had remained back. In front, Kadhija was moving towards what looked like a door and Humaira raising her head, was surprised to see a patch of inky blue night sky where she even spied some stars twinkling comfortingly, as if telling her not to fear, for indeed Allah SWT is always near!
To Kadhija’s knock, a heavyset Hindu woman opened the door, upon hearing their inquiries, pointed a hand to farther inside the passage, and slammed the door shut.
“Such a hospitable neighbour…” Kadhija murmured with a chuckle, making her daughter smile.
The door this time was open and both Kadhija and Humaira had a full view of the house or room, (for the whole house was only a room where the kitchen was only a stone slab upon which were placed a stove and some utensils). The bed occupied most of the place, while the rest was taken by a large display case that had a television booming in it. The occupants of a faded sofa, a young man and a girl immediately stood upon their entrance.
As the young man slipped away after switching off the TV, a thin gaunt looking woman clad in a saree came towards them with an ingratiating smile.
Kadhija saying Salaam, explained that she was the wife of Abu Bakr Sahib’s friend.
The woman nodded and Humaira saw that her hair was nearly grey. “Yes yes, so you both good women have come to teach some sense into her block head huh? Well, I have done all I can for her, and all I get in return is rank disobedience …that Abu Bakr Sahib was good enough to send her to a school and home, but no she calls back from there saying that she won’t stay and then I had to travel by bus a whole day, and what do you expect? She’s quite happy to come back, not caring a bit how much time and money so many kind people had spent to send her there…” The woman rattled on in a shrill voice, her main woe revolving around the loss of money that she had spent on her granddaughter. “…I have enough mouths to feed already; my married daughter who is pregnant has come back with her little son after fighting with her husband, you saw that young man while entering? He’s a no-good son of mine…Mubeena’s father was a fine fellow but then he went and got himself killed and though I loved him, I cannot have his daughter thrust upon my hands now…”
But Humaira let Kadhija listen to the old woman while she turned to the girl. For her fifteen years, Mubeena looked small. Dressed in a Churidhar, her head was half-covered by a green dupatta, disordered locks of black hair falling around her face making Humaira wonder whether anyone had combed the child’s hair.
Humaira noted that the girl’s eyes had a preoccupied look in them yet she seemed to be well aware of the present circumstances. Smiling gently at her, Humaira took the girl’s hands in her own as she began to talk in her soft voice.
Mubeena took a while to open up to Humaira’s calm questions,
“…far oh it was so far Didi, can you believe there was not even a single shop around! And the home had no electricity for long, the current comes and goes, and everything becomes dark and the girls fight and kick each other…then the Warden lady comes and beats too…” The small shy voice paused shuddering and Humaira’s heart constricted as the girl’s fingers clung to hers.
Thus, Humaira heard the whole pitiful tale mixed with violence and woe, and the havoc it had wrought upon the child’s heart and soul…
Mubeena finally conceded that she would go back to another home, but only if it was near to her granny’s house.
And when the skinny old woman went outside for a little while, both Kadhija and Humaira listened to the talking girl (who had lost her shyness by now) as she wondered what wrong she had committed that her mother did not wish to have her.
“…only my Abba is dead you see,” She explained with a pathetic smile. “But my mother is there, she married again someone I don’t know who and last year, she came and took away my little sister but she said that she doesn’t want me, and she told me she would be glad if I died… do you think Didi that she would think of me a little if I went somewhere and died?”
Humaira did not dare to look at her mother for fear that her tears would fall, and as she assured and soothed the girl in a constricted voice, Kadhija asked gently whether she knew how to pray Salah.
Thus, Humaira blinking her tears listened to her mother who softly turned the conversation in the direction of Allah SWT. The girl absorbed each word and admitted that she didn’t know how to pray Salah, yes she would like to learn and… – she would ask Allah SWT to help her in everything, she finally agreed with simple trust shining in her eyes, that no longer looked preoccupied.
They finally left her when Abdullah called, Humaira embracing Mubeena while Kadhija gave some money to her grandmother.
The whole ride back, Humaira remained silent while Kadhija related about their visit to Abdullah. Abdullah agreed that he would discuss further about this with Abu Bakr and then dropping them at home, he went back for Isha.
“Poverty in itself is not a very bad thing child,” Kadhija quietly said to her daughter when they were preparing dinner.
“For though we were nine children to our parents, we were comfortable and happy Alhamdulillah. It’s only after I had married your father that I first experienced what it was to be really poor. Your father had spoken to you all about those trying times when his father’s business that he had taken over suffered terrible loses.
Yet Alhamdulillah we were rich in our knowledge and practice of Deen, the first thing that your father taught me was to be always grateful to Allah SWT, no matter how tough or difficult the situation we lived in. So much so that Shukran Allah wAlhamdulillah ‘ala kulli haal (Thanks be to Allah and Praise be to Allah in every circumstance) sort of became our life. You must always remember Humair, that the worst kind of poverty is not when you don’t have enough to eat or wear, it’s when you lack even the knowledge of turning towards your Rabb… Ignorance concerning your Creator and Cherisher is indeed the worst poverty. For Nabi SAW did not say that when Allah SWT wishes good for someone, He bestows riches upon them, rather He SAW said that when Allah SWT wishes good for a person, He Az Wa Jal expands their chest and hearts to understanding His Words (Qur’an) and His Prophet’s Teachings (Sunnah)…and they strive to obey the knowledge that Allah SWT teaches them…”
By this time, Kadhija having finished her work waited until her daughter had washed and wiped her hands. If one asks Humaira where she had learnt most of Life’s important lessons, she would unhesitatingly reply with a smile, “Kitchen –from Ammi.”
“No let’s wait till your Abba and brothers come back from the Masjid, then you can spread the dastarkhaan,” Kadhija said to her daughter’s question, as they both entered her room.
“You know child,” Kadhija continued softly, taking Humaira’s hand in hers.
“If you put together the love I have for all my children, it still won’t equal to the Love that I have for your father…” Humaira looked at her mother in pleasant surprise at this confession while her lips curved into a teasing smile.
Yet Kadhija’s next words seemed to freeze her smile.
“And if you love the man in your dream as much as I love your Abba, then sweetheart, don’t torture your heart and health by worrying, for I know you have Hasbi Allah…”
The large brown eyes of Kadhija’s stared into identical deep melting pools and the next moment, she had her daughter in her arms, sobbing brokenly against her heart.
“Sometimes my child,” Kadhija whispered to her daughter’s head as tears blurred her own vision. “You never experience the true essence and beauty of Love, until your heart’s been broken…and isn’t Allah SWT the Best mender of shattered hearts?”
The next day, Saira came back and Saif teased her that she arrived once she got the word that Dadima had gone. It was after breakfast that Saif announced that he had taken the responsibility of lunch for the Tableegh Jamaath from Bhopal that was staying at their locality’s Masjid. He said that Abdullah had agreed with the decision.
“Mm…Alhamdulillah, it’s of course an honour to feed those who have come striving in the path of Allah…what do you want us to make for them Saif?” Kadhija asked her son who was saying to Saira with a strained look that the Jamaath people from Bhopal doesn’t seem to know about Qaari Qasim Sahib who had died there while he had been in the Cruise.
“What Ammiji? Whatever is easy for you all… yes yes Biryani would be great, they are totally twelve men…” Saif said to his mother, then he smiled his usual teasing smile as he added, “And don’t hesitate to ask my expert opinion in cooking…”
Saira choked on the water she was drinking. “Pray, what is that ‘expert opinion’?”
“Oh you know… I can skillfully…”
“Yea?”
“Taste everything…”
Saira rolled her eyes while Kadhija and Humaira laughed at his mock serious words.
“But Bhaiya, you make excellent noodles…” Humaira said, her eyes brimming with merry laughter, for the first time after nearly a fortnight of suffering.
“Ah Humair, you’re a life saver –my champion for cooking! You know how to encourage a man while she…” His glance rested haughtily upon his twin who promptly dissolved into giggles.
And true to his words, he provided his expert opinion now and then as he chopped the onions into thin slices (for nearly an hour) until Humaira pulled them from him minding not his words that ran something like, “…striving for perfection even in the onion’s slices.”
“wAllahi! If we follow your way of striving for perfection in cooking Bhaiya, then there will be twelve hungry men this afternoon plus Abba and you and…”
And his offer of helping in the kitchen was speedily rejected and he was forcefully sent back to his room to wonder moodily what’s wrong with his family women, for he was sure that in other homes, women would be most glad to have his help – He shook his head, try as he might, women still remained a mystery.
That afternoon, the Ameer (leader) of the Bhopal’s Jamaath came with two other men and sat in Saif’s room while the beautiful scarlet curtains were loosened from their golden tassels and women from their area and the surrounding localities gathered in the small hall and Ammi Abba’s room, (Observing the rules of Pardah, they came from the backyard’s door directly into the kitchen and then into the hall).
Saif had earlier fixed the microphone and speakers and now as the Ameer spoke while another translated his words in Tamil, praising Allah SWT and delivering a Bayaan (Islamic lecture), the women quietly listened to the words with softening hearts as he glorified Allah SWT, His Magnificence, His Wonderful Mercy, His numerous bounties and favours…
Then he showed the importance of applying Sunnah, the teachings of our beloved Nabi SAW in our every action, finally he explained why he and his Muslim brothers had come a long way from home in Tableegh Jamaath (Doing Dawah in Group), for doing Dawah, calling people towards Allah SWT had been the noble work of the Prophets yet we, the last Prophet, Muhammed SAW’s Ummah were most blessed, for Allah SWT Himself says in the Qur’an,
"Kuntum khaira ummatin ukhrijat linnaasi ta'muruuna bilma'ruufi wa tanhauna ‘anil munkar wa tu'minoona bil Laah.
You are the best ummah singled out for mankind: you enjoin what is right (ma’roof), forbid what is wrong (munkar), and believe in Allah."
And for three days, or sometimes for forty or for four months or sometimes a year, we leave our homes and families behind and become a Jamaath, spending our time in Allah SWT’s path, calling people towards Him so that He forgives and guides us while those who are ignorant of Him and are Muslims only in name get to know about Him and His Beautiful Mercy too…
So the Bayaan ended and the men left, while Kadhija sat reading the Ta’leem in Urdu, Saira translating it to the Tamil speaking women.
“Recorded by Imam Muslim, Imam Bukhari and others,
On the authority of Abu Hurayrah (may Allah be pleased with him) from the Prophet (peace be upon him), who said:
Allah (glorified and exalted be He) has supernumerary angels who rove about seeking out gatherings in which Allah's name is being invoked: they sit with them and fold their wings round each other, filling that which is between them and between the lowest heaven. When [the people in the gathering] depart, [the angels] ascend and rise up to heaven.
He (the Prophet p.b.u.h.) said:
“Then Allah (mighty and sublime be He) asks them [though] He is most knowing about them:
From where have you come?
And they (the angels) say: We have come from some servants of Yours on earth. They were glorifying You (Subhan Allah), exalting you (Allahu Akbar), witnessing that there is no god but You (La ilaha ill Allah), praising You (Al-Hamdu lillah), and asking [favours] of You.
Allah asks, "Have they seen Me?" The angels answer, "0 our Lord! They did not see You." He SWT asks, "What if they saw Me?" The angels answer, "O our Lord, if they saw You they would be even more fervent in their worship, praise, and glorification.
He SWT says: And what do they ask of Me? They reply: They ask of You Your Paradise.
He Az Wa Jal questions: And have they seen My Paradise?
They say: No, O Lord. He SWT says: And how would it be were they to have seen My Paradise? They answer: "If they saw Your paradise, they would be more attached and attracted to it asking You repeatedly for it! And they ask protection of You."
He says: From what do they ask protection of Me? They (the angels) say: From Your Hell-fire, Ya Rabb.
He asks: And have they seen My Hell-fire? They say: No O Allah!
He says: And how would it be were they to have seen My Hell-fire? They say: "If they see Your fire, they will seek even more refuge from it, and would be even more afraid of it.".
He (the Prophet p.b.u.h) said: Then Allah SWT says: I have forgiven them and I have bestowed upon them what they have asked for, and I have granted them sanctuary from that from which they asked protection.
The Prophet SAW further said:
They (the angels) say: O Lord, among them is So-and-so, a much sinning servant, who was merely passing by and sat down with them.
And to that Allah SWT replies: And to him [too] I have given forgiveness: he who sits with such people shall not suffer.”
Lifting her glance up from the volume, Kadhija said softly with melting eyes,
“And Allah SWT has indeed blessed us all, for don’t you feel in your hearts that such a gathering of peace with angels surrounding us from every side with their wings ‘till the heavens above is found in this gathering…? Alhamdulillah!”
***
London, U.K.
It was deadly quiet in the huge study, except perhaps for the man’s unsteady breathing as he lay there with his head thrown back and eyes shut with a frown.
A week –another week added to the month since his arrival from the Cruise was coming to an end and Alex had yet to speak to both of his friends ever since he had walked out of Wilson’s office, a prey to a mixture of emotions ranging from anger to contempt to bitter disappointment.
The past month, Alex had come to accept the inevitable fact that he wasn’t able to forget her –It was simple as that, though he had not failed to try and try and… yet how could he? When the ache and longing seemed to throb in his very veins, flowing along with the blood and becoming seeped into the marrow of his bones…until his heart took control of his mind, making him do rash actions like commanding George to stop in the middle of heavy traffic just because he felt that maybe… maybe the covered woman leading the child could turn out to be her.
And he had foolishly thought that the madness would end when he no longer saw or was near her.
The blue eyes opened and they surprisingly were not cold, rather the swirling emotions of his heart reflected clearly in the azure pools, now that the layer of ice no longer hid them.
His intense glance rested upon his phone and more specifically upon a contact’s – Saif’s. Ah how many times he had been tempted to call Saif, just so he could get some or any news about her yet he had held back, always saying that tomorrow he will surely forget her. True to his word, he worked tirelessly in the hospital not allowing relaxation in other forms, not permitting his heart to take control yet once again the night comes with its sighs and longings, and no matter how dead tired he was, he found himself thinking and remembering her words or deeds…and marveling how he was still sane.
Yet tonight he was more restless, his head was throbbing painfully, his eyes, his arms, legs …until the very tips of his fingers, his whole body was aching from the strain that he was forcing himself into performing every day. But tonight, his heart seemed to had had enough of it and without his mind realizing it (or perhaps it knew yet remained discreet) Alex called Saif.
The ring finally ended without Saif attending it. Alex raked an unsteady hand through his hair, the same slender fingers that rarely shook even while performing extremely delicate operations betrayed now his intensity of feeling.
The agony seemed to pass as the minutes ticked away and suddenly the silence was pierced by the ringing of his phone. It was Saif.
“Ya Allah Alex, is that you? Do you know what the time is here now? No no man I wasn’t asleep, merely immersed in studies, and Alex call me back please, my balance won’t bear an overseas call…”
As Alex dialed him back, a smile was touching his lips as he imagined Saif surrounded by books and frankly saying that his balance was low not being able to chat with him.
“Glad to know you’re doing fine Alex and yes I’m good Alhamdulillah, and the little monkey is great too. The doctor has agreed that I can finally go back to my studies in Kerala…I would have gone back last week but our Dadima came upon us with the proposition that she wanted Humair, my younger sister you remember?” Alex was glad that Saif was not in front of him. Did he remember her? The question should probably have been did he ever forget her?
“…She wanted Humair to marry her grandson who lives in London actually…”
It was with a blinding flash that Alex discovered the presence of a glittering emerald snake of jealously in his heart making him hiss his words,
“She won’t dare!”
“What? Yea yes I guess, Abba won’t allow Humair to marry if she doesn’t like the man. Besides, Dadima already left and though the talk of engagement or marriage is now at rest, I still couldn’t go for Humair fell ill seriously and Ammi was having a tough time managing Umar…”
“How…how is she now?” Alex finally managed to breathe back with his words.
“Who, Humair? Alhamdulillah good, yet Ammi says she has become thin…what what did you say Alex?”
“I said that there’s going to be an International Surgeons Meet held at Chennai on Tuesday and I will be attending it.” And most probably he would be the only surgeon attending it, for he had invented the International Meet just now.
Saif unconsciously let out a whistle. “So that’s why you called, finally coming here huh? This means I have to postpone my going once again yet it would be wonderful to see you Alex… Abba would be glad, after reaching here do give me a call as soon as you become free, and oh wait until Umar hears about this!”
Maybe it was the snake of jealousy or maybe it was simply Fate or maybe it was the result of a young woman’s Hasbi Allah, whatever it was – the die was finally cast now, and nor did Alex pause to think about the consequences for all his madly beating heart wondered was, what she would think when she hears about the proposal.
*****
A/N ;)
I know, I know Lol I’m indeed very sorry but I wasn’t well and I just couldn’t post a half written chapter, anyways hope you enjoyed and yes Alhamdulillahi Rabbil ‘Alameen.
With Duas and Salaam,
abdurRahman (Gudi ;))