A Diamond in Islam | (Published) ✔

{1} Not An Ordinary Day

Amira Sarker

 A usual morning for most American teens consisted of cereal, light-hearted conversations, and continuous complaints about school, however, in my household it was never the same. Any child born in a Bengali household knows better than to expect such a simple, perfunctory morning.

"Tanwir! Don't roll your eyes at me. Other kids aren't always staying at home and staying on their laptop. They go out with good friends or help their parents. All you do is ignore your family. Does it hurt to just answer your phone once in awhile when we call?" yelled Baba.

Mum and I just sat quietly and ate our breakfast while listening to the father and son argument. My twenty-year-old brother still had not learned how to stay silent when being scolded at. His nostrils flared as Baba's words really stung behind his eyes.

"Maybe if you stopped comparing me to others I wouldn't be this way!" Tanwir countered back.

Baba sighed. "Tanwir, please just listen to us. You don't even talk to us anymore. Did you even pray your daily prayers lately?"

Tanwir stayed silent.

"Tanwir! Allah doesn't teach us this in the Quran. We were made to worship Him. Stop taking advantage of life in this dunya (world). Your time here is limited. You can't guarantee that you'll be alive tomorrow morning," Baba said.

"I've been busy," he mumbled.

"That's no excuse! On the Day of Judgment when Allah asks you why you didn't pray, 'I'm busy' is not going to be a good reason."

"All you do is criticize me. You never listen. Comparing kids are some of the reasons why Muslim kids turn away from Islam."

"Astaghfirullah (May Allah forgive you)! Don't say that."

"But it's true. You know what? Just forget this. I can take care of myself," seethed Tanwir before he turned and ran up to his room.

He slammed his door hard. Baba sighed, sitting down at the table with his head in his hands. He was mumbling a small duaa (small prayer) for his son.

"What are we going to do with this boy?" he asked Mum, lines of distress wrinkling his brown skin.

"I don't know. How did he end up this way? I miss my little quiet boy," Mum replied, absentmindedly stirring the sugar in her tea, her dark eyes held a deep sadness that reflected my father's.

Tanwir attended to a college near home so he didn't have to move into the campus living areas. He was a straight A student, but he had a nasty attitude, one that emitted fear as people walked by. His rage was almost unbearable at times.

I looked at the clock on the wall. It was currently 6:45 am. School started at seven am. Knowing I had to run, I grabbed my backpack and prepared to head out.

"Assalamualaikum Mum and Baba," I said, opening the door.

"Waalaikumussalam."

I stepped outside and felt raindrops on my hijab. Great, but I walked to the bus stop nonetheless.

* * * *

When I got to my locker, I saw my friends Tasneem and Lucy waiting for me. They were both Muslim students, but Lucy had converted two years ago after being inspired by both Tasneem and I. She found Islam to be fascinating and logical. It fit her moral values, which ultimately led her towards the path of Islam. Unfortunately, her family disowned her, so she moved in with her aunt. Both my friends and I wore a hijab around our heads.

"What's up?" asked Tasneem.

"Not much," I replied, distracted by my locker as I shuffled through my things to find the correct textbook. "Did we have any history readings?"