Naseem-e-Subh

Chapter 11: little surprises

"C'mon yaar, Allah ainvey har ayre gyre ki baddua nhi sunta. You know that. Why are you letting that namuna (idiot) get in your head like this?" (Allah doesn't listen to just anyone's curses like that)

Israh sighed, wiping her tears away but it was useless because they were incessant and unstoppable. She clutched the phone to her ears, and was relieved that her mother hadn't called her down yet. It'd been almost two hours since she'd locked herself in this bedroom, with trembling hands and a heavy heart.

Ya Allah, what was this new problem on top of everything else that was going on? Would Israh really have to spend the rest of her life fearing both her present and her future, because of Mohsin's curse?

"Accha, fine. Did you pray Zuhr yet?"

Israh shook her head, then realised that obviously Tamannah couldn't see her through the call. "No."

"Then go and pray. I'm sure you'll feel much better. And while you're at it, make dua for yourself. He's the All-Hearing isn't he? Pour out your heart to Him and He won't let you down. Chalo, jaldi kro utho. Mein phone band krne lgi hu." (C'mon, be quick and get up. I'm ending the call)

Israh sniffled, but did as told. It was true. Allah knew everything that had happened. Nothing was concealed from Him. And no person's curse was stronger than Allah's mercy. Not even a leaf moved without His permission, so what were a few words going to do against His benevolence?!

If she prayed and begged hard enough, He'd listen. He'd protect her and her family. No curse could affect her life unless He permitted it to, and hopefully He wouldn't allow Mohsin's ill-intended prayers to affect her. Everything was going to be fine. It was fine.

So, despite the anxieties and fears, Israh got off the floor, unlocked the door and headed to the washroom to make her wudhu. The cold water relieved the heat of her skin, and soothed her puffy eyes as well as the forming headache. And as the water went down the drain, she let some of her worries leave with it too.

Praying really did help her. She felt much lighter with every sajdah, her tears drying on her cheeks with every rakaat, and when she raised her hands up for dua, she was confident that her Allah would do what is best for her.

She had made a mistake, yes. But she'd also suffered its consequences. She wouldn't complain if it wasn't yet enough, if Allah wanted to bring harder times toward her, because at the end she knew she would be forgiven. No hurt came a Muslim's way except to erase some of their past sins. Every ounce of pain was a blessing, and she was ready to confront it with all her might.

With a renewed strength, she folded her prayer mat and put it aside before turning to her dresser and fixing her face. Most of the puffiness was gone, but her skin was still red and the acne was flaring up once again to make her look even duller.

Israh applied a nice moisturiser on her face, some surma and lip gloss, before tying her hair back into a loose braid. She sighed. At least she didn't look like she'd had a mental breakdown just moments ago.

When she went downstairs, ammi and abbu were watching a Pakistani drama together, so Israh sat between them and her father hugged her close, placing an affectionate kiss on the top of her head. She smiled to herself, snuggling closer to him. The elders were right. Parents really were their childrens' shade, their home, their heaven on earth.

While her relationship with her parents sometimes got strained and frustrating, they were also her solace and warmth when the world was heavy and life got harder to get through.

They inspired her every waking moment, every time she felt like she couldn't get through a tough time she'd remember how they persevered. They never gave up, always tried hard and remained grateful to Allah in both the good and the bad. They had sabr, and courage and a fierce determination that Israh was wildly invigorated by.