Leilah Usman awaits an acceptance from a university abroad so she can leave the country she never loved when she stumbles upon an ancient diary. Through the eyes of Mahrosh Irfan, she finds herself in a world so completely different from hers.
One w...
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Ramadan drew near, and hearts swelled in anticipation.
Excitement and preparations for the blessed month enveloped everything in their caress; from piles of tafsir books on the desks in preparation of Daur-e-Quran in Walid's halaqah, lists of Ramadan goals that adorned Mahrosh' diaries, to the decorative iftar menu decided and pasted on the kitchen wall by Aleena.
On the twenty-ninth night of Shaban, Mahrosh insisted on climbing up to the roof of the house. It had rained that afternoon and Walid pointed out the cloudy sky, but no clouds were thick enough to stop an eager seeker searching for the crescent.
Her eyes squinted, Mahrosh searched the skies for any sign of the guest they awaited. But she could hardly even see the stars through the gray clouds. "We're just not looking hard enough, Walid —" she refused to give up. "You're taller. Do you see it?"
"I don't think I can get closer to the skies no matter how tall I am, habibti." Walid had to grab her arm whenever she moved too close to the ends of the roof, his gaze searching for the crescent.
"But at least a little closer than me," Mahrosh mumbled. The clouds grew thicker, but she did not leave. "Are you sure you don't you see the moon?"
"Mhmm. Not the one in the skies, at least."
Mahrosh' gaze flickered to his face and she found him looking at her. Heat crept up to her cheeks and she was quick to look away, grateful for the darkness of the sky that kept her face hidden. Before she could come up with a reply, a distant roll of thunder filled up the skies and a flash of lightning illuminated the streets.
"It's going to rain. C'mon," Walid reached for her hand, "News of the moon sighting will be broadcasted on the radio. Let's go inside."
Mahrosh looked dismally up at the clouds. "Just one more minute —"
"Mahrosh, Walid!" Aleena shouted from downstairs. "Ramadan Mubarak! The moon has been sighted! They just announced it on the radio!"
The glee rose in the air just as the downpair began. In her excitement, Mahrosh almost lost her footing on the ladder, her heart lurching till Walid grabbed her arm and steadied her. "Careful-" Her eyes shone so brightly when they met his, and he could not hold back his chuckle, watching as she rushed to hear the news.
"Ramadan Mubarak ka chand nazar aa chuka hai. Hindustan mein kal se Ramadan ke maheenai ki shuruwat ho gi —" the rain intercepting with the signal caused the voice of the reporter to break, but the news had been delivered.
Ramadan has come! A collective echo rang within the streets, Ramadan has come and the gates of heaven opened and the gates of hell closed, and the devils are chained.
Ramadan has come for those of faith — those who long for the nights of qiyam, the time spent with the Quran, and the opportunity to gain reward in the generous month. For those whose tongues acquaint themselves with tasbih as well as they are acquainted to breathing; and whose legs do not tire of the length of their qiyam-ul-layl for it is when their Rabb is nearest to them and they simply carry too much in their hearts; so their sujood becomes their therapy and their home.
