Like Pearls on a Broken String

There was heavy uncomfortable silence in the room. Offering condolences is never easy. I sat quietly with my gaze fixed on the carpet motif. Infront of me was the mother of the deceased – a 26 yrs old only son. She was a woman who is memorizing the Quran & had so far preserved 1/3 of the Book in her heart. I wanted (& hoped) to see the impact of this Quran in her response to her loss. And, as expected, mashaAllah, she was a picture of composure & patience.

I couldn’t offer any solace. No words seemed suitable enough to encompass the magnitude of her loss or the gravity of her pain. I imagined what she must be going through & tears trickled down my cheeks. I tried to wipe them discreetly but, perhaps, was unsuccessful. She passed me the tissue box on the table. No, this isn’t right! I’m supposed to comfort her. Not the other way round. I disliked the fact that I had no control over my emotions. Had to do something to stop the tears. I took a deep breath and forced my mind to think of something different and totally unrelated. I wondered at the traffic noise that was occasionally filtering in through the open balcony. Alhumdullilah, I found poise again.

She mentioned about the righteousness of her son. She described how happy he was with his newly-married status, his prestigious job as a pilot of the international airlines, his various humanitarian projects… He seemed to be the golden boy of their large extended family. He was loved by all. Yet, at the peak of his health & life, he died suddenly of a heart attack. She reminded us, and herself of how we are constantly making long elaborate plans and how, Allah is making different plans for us. HIS plans prevail.

On my drive back that night, death, naturally, was on my mind. Yes, we know we’ll die one day, but we really don’t think of ‘that day’ being anywhere around the corner. ‘We aren’t old yet,’ whispers the soul to fool us. But when we witness the passing away of a person our age (or younger), that foolish supposition gets a good earth-shaking jolt.

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The first time this realization hit me was at the news of the death of a class-mate, four years after leaving high school. Later that year, we had a class reunion party at someone’s place. The excited girls had so much to share & inform each other, to fill the gaps of the years since we all parted. There were gay announcements of someone’s engagement; another was eagerly planning her grand wedding; some boasted of career and promotions; one shared the pain of a miscarriage and others looked forward to starting their medical practice soon. We talked of how many of us made it to that party. The others were missed because they were now based in other countries.

Then, all of a sudden, someone mentioned her. A painful silence enveloped the room. A while later, someone broke the silence by narrating the good times she spent with her in class. But, suddenly, for the first time in our lives, we had all become acutely aware of our mortality. She was one of us. She was like us. She spent the countless days in school with us, experiencing the same moments of work and play as we did. Yet, she was in a different realm now. ‘She could have been me,’ was the thought that probably passed in each one’s mind. After all, a healthy, lean 21 yrs old girl is not expected to die suddenly of heart failure.

We learned from her close friend that after leaving school she had enrolled for an Islamic studies course along with her medical school. Allah guided her at a time when most of us – her classmates – were heedless. She underwent a seachange. At the time of her death, she had been a conscientious practicing person.

Before leaving, we looked at our school group-photo. Like a string of pearls, the beaming youthful faces, side by side, stood gazing back at us. We prayed for her – the missing one among us.

It will soon be 10 yrs since she passed away. I believe Allah loves her, for it is indeed strange, otherwise, that every time I sit to make dua, she enters my thoughts, and I can’t help but pray for her. It is Allah Who instills her remembrance in my mind & it is HE who makes me do dua for her so often. I’m sure countless people must be praying for her through Allah’s Will.     

The string has already been cut. One pearl has slipped out. The rest will soon scatter, unable to hold on to that flimsy thread. It’s not a matter of ‘when’. It’s not a matter of ‘who’ next. The important question is: “Have I earned HIS Love? Would HE inspire others to pray for me after I’m gone?”   

What Woke Me Up For Fajr Today

                                                                          

In all likelihood, I was meant to miss Fajr this morning. The last thing I did before falling asleep at 2 am was talk with a friend. When she put me on hold, sleep overtook me and the cell just slipped from my hand & on to my pillow. The Fajr alarm on the phone is set on default, but I need to keep it far from my bed in order to ensure I getup.

At 5 am, the alarm must’ve gone. My hand must have pulled it from under the pillow and expertly not only cancelled it but also deactivated the snooze option with my eyes closed. I returned to deep slumber.

“الله اكبر الله اكبر”

The words of the Iqaamah from our masjid hit my ears & pulled me out the unconscious state.

My drowsy mind calculated the time – must’ve been 5:30. The Imam’s call was filtering into my room through the open window. I was too heavy with sleep to pay heed to the call of salvation.

“Its okay, just sleep,” a soothing whisper relaxed my mind and I closed my eyes.

“الْحَمْدُ للهِ رَبَ الْعَالَمِينَ”

 In the delirious sleep-induced state, I found myself appreciating the beauty of our masjid’s Imam’s recitation.

Still couldn’t resist. Still couldn’t getup.

In a cloudy haze of sleep, jumbled thoughts competed for my attention. My mind threw at me a reminder of previous night’s conversation with my friend. She had told me about the death of a 19yrs old university student in a car crash that day. I remembered saying to her something about the suddenness of death and how unprepared we are at our age.

My eyes were now open, but, I still could not getup. The weight was still there.

My mind then took me back by two weeks & reminded me about this video I had watched recently. It depicted young people ignoring salah – a habit that becomes a source of regret for their souls when their life comes to an end suddenly.

“I don’t want moments of regret,” the inner voice said. Some of the heaviness was lifted. But I still remained motionless.

“وَالْفَجْرِ”    

 the Words of the Quran flowed in through the window & permeated the air.

My mind, once again, worked diligently to offer yet more incentives. I smiled as I recalled reading, two days ago, the image-rich tafseer of the word, ‘Fajr’ on another sister’s site. I pictured the dawn sky being split by the first ray of the morning Sun.   

The residual drowsiness of slumber was almost gone. But I remained in bed, still.

“وَلَيَالٍ عَشْرٍ “

Hadn’t I gotten a reminder recently that these words refer to the best 10 days of the year? “Why am I missing out? Why am I still in bed then?” the inner voice was stronger & louder.

I had decided to get up, but was probably waiting for one strong push. It seemed like all living beings in my neighborhood were soaking in the beauty of the words that were spilling in the air. I, too, continued to revel in the recitation of the soorah.

“يأَيَّتُهَا النَّفْسُ الْمُطْمَئِنَّةُ – ارْجِعِى إِلَى رَبِّكِ رَاضِيَةً مَّرْضِيَّةً – فَادْخُلِى فِى عِبَادِى – وَادْخُلِى جَنَّتِى”

I found my calling. I prayed that I get to hear these words of good news when I leave this world. Tossed the blanket away and jumped out of bed. Alhumdullilah.

 ” اللهم أعني على ذكرك ، وشكرك وحسن عبادتك “

“O Allah, help me to remember You, to give You thanks, and to perform Your worship in the best manner.” *

* Abu Dawud 2/86, An-Nasai 3/53, Al Albani Sahih Abu Dawud 1/284.