MARJAAN- COMPLETE HALF OF MY DEEN (#YourStoryIndia) (#ProjectWomenUp)

Chapter 4 - Airport

Imaam al-Bukhaari (may Allaah have mercy on him) reported in his Saheeh that 'Aa'ishah (may Allaah be pleased with her) said: "I heard the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) saying: 'Souls are like conscripted soldiers; those whom they recognize, they get along with, and those whom they do not recognize, they will not get along with.'" (Saheeh al-Bukhaari, Kitaab Ahaadeeth al-Anbiyaa', Baab al-Arwaah junood mujannadah).

2007 April India

Marjaan was looking out of the car window with a twinkle in her eyes.
She was going to Kuwait with her mother to spend a month at her
uncle's place.

Her mother Ferooza, on the other hand, was visibly
preoccupied and kept glancing at her husband every few seconds. It was
the first time she was going to stay away from her husband for a
month, and Ahmed shared her uneasiness as well.

Ahmed knew Ferooza was double minded about her vacation to her
brother's house but his invitation has been long due.

He half-heartedly took tickets for his wife and daughter, but Ijaz
couldn't make it as he had classes from mid April and he was in his
senior year.

For Marjaan, things couldn't get any better. She was
going to meet her cousin Rabiya, her inseparable cousin and sister she
seldom saw.

As their car pulled over to the airport, Marjaan jumped out all
excited, anticipating her first air travel. She had donned a red hijab
for this occasion along with white shirt and a denim full skirt.

She looked pretty and she knew it but she was a practicing Muslim and
didn't take pride in her beauty. Everyone was unique, she knew. They
proceeded towards the departure terminal, and in her excitement she
pushed her trolley real hard and it went over a man's leg tripping him
and making him fall.

Amjad P.O.V

It was with great difficulty that I convinced my parents to let me go
on my own to airport for my first trip abroad. Truth is that I'm
already missing my family and I won't be able to walk away seeing
their sad faces.

Ummi had been crying for a week. My brother Khaleel,
who was in Ireland suggested I do my MBA from Ireland. Seizing my
opportunity, I applied in a college and I got a half scholarship; and
adha's (brother's) presence over there was a great relief for my family.

But it came with a cost. I had to sell my bike, my companion I hated
to part with it for the extra money. Travelling abroad didn't come cheap
and I hated to burden abba. Besides, there won't be anyone using my
bike when I'm gone.

Nonetheless, I thanked Allah for blessing me in
every step of my life and providing me with best of provisions.
My cab was crawling its way to the airport and I had to ration my time.

I was heading towards the check-in when I bumped into a trolley bag which went over my legs, causing me to trip and fall.

Man oh man,
it hurt. I fell down face down and hit my nose, the worst spot and my
dreaded part of all. Apart from being allergic to dust, and had a
history of a small growth which meant, anything that brushed past my
nose gave me a dreadful sneeze that lasted all day.
I got up and right on cue, my sneezing episode started.

"Allah! please
cure my allergy" I thought desperately. And then I remembered the
hadith which said not a thorn will hurt a believer unless his sins are
forgiven. I prayed for my sins to be forgiven for what I'm facing
daily.

"Beta, are you alright??"
I looked up and was face to face with a good looking guy who looked in
his late thirties, visibly looking concerned.

I have seen this
gentleman several times in Masjid before but never got to know him.
"You okay? Sorry for the trouble. You are Navas's son right?"
"Yes uncle, I am quite fine. No need to apologize, I just need to get
going" I managed to say between sneezing.

I took a moment to look at his family, and I spotted the trouble maker who
owned the pink trolley and was shamefacedly looking at me. When we
made eye contact, her captivating eyes momentarily distracted me
before she lowered her gaze to look at her shoes.

I could just see her
red hijab and denim skirt and the pink trolley bag that went over my
leg. I immediately covered my gaze n said Asthagfirulla in my mind(I seek forgiveness from Allah) for letting shaytan control my mind and looking at
a na mahram.

"My name is Ahmed please let me to help you" her father was talking to
me while examining my bag which now had a broken zipper. He turned to
his wife and asked, "Ferooza, won't you have enough space to
accommodate Marjaan's luggage in your bag as well?"

Aunty was only happy to oblige while I sensed the girl Marjaan shift
slightly. Wait a minute. Marjaan? Could it be the same girl who threw
stone at me and called me a loser? She looked nothing like the tomboy
she was before. Although I grew up, that day had stayed with me.

I brushed it off my mind astagfirulla I should stop thinking of her . Ignoring my protests, Ahmed uncle emptied the contents
of her trolley and transferred it to his wife's bag and handed me a
pink trolley. Pink trolley, I thought laughing...I am fashion
statement!

"Jazhakallah kheir, Ahmad uncle"
"Va antum Jazhakallah kheir beta. It was our mistake and we had to
make sure you could go with your luggage"
I was genuinely impressed with their family, admitting their mistake
and taking time to help another person.

"Beta I will give this bag to Navas after I get it fixed" he took my
broken bag, we shook hands and we parted ways saying salam.

May 2007, Ireland

Ireland was much colder than I expected, unlike India and I was always
freezing even after a month I got here. I stayed with my brother in an
apartment and my MBA classes were going in full swing.

One day, I
happened to look for clean socks and was digging deeper into a pink
bag that once belonged to a girl. I never bothered to invest in
storage cabinets and chose to keep my stuff in the bag itself and save money.
Suddenly, I saw a zip that I have never seen before. I realised that I
have never really checked this bag thoroughly, as I got busy
accustoming to my new environment.

I opened the zipper and my hands
found a tiny journal with an ornated writing that read, 'Marjaan'.

Curious, I flipped through and saw some photographs of her childhood.

Ya Allah this is the same Marjaan I encountered before, the same one
that always left a mark after each encounter. And now my heart was
aching as I saw a sweet girl looking at me, and the next pages were
filled with pictures of bikes. And incredibly, there was a yellow
karizma in it. I felt a dull ache for my old bike; I hoped it was
still well taken care of. So she liked bikes too, I thought smiling.

Then I remembered it was not right of me to stare at her pictures as
Islam asks me to lower my gaze in front of women who are not my
mahram and Allah is watching always.

I went back to first page and looked at Marjaan written
beautifully. She had a way of writing.

I had to stop myself from thinking about her. I'm 21 years old and and
she must be still in school. I asked Allah for guidance but I knew I
was infatuated with the girl with arresting look. I knew I will keep
this bag and her journal with me as a souvenir.

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Thanks everyone for the votes and comments
I know everyone wants me to write bigger chapters. . I shall do just that as soon as amjad and Marjaan come to the present. . You all know that we still havnt reached the current year. .
Also pls share this story with your friends
I hope I have you all captivated in this story but don't miss any prayer for me or this story ..Allah is worth more than anything else in this world. .
One more thing to note
Marjaan is 15 and Amjad is 21 in this chapter..
❤ Sunshine_jaan