Fifty Eight

A peek into the past- Amaani:

One moment I was the child of Aamina and Imtiyaaz, and the next moment I am merely an orphan, like many others. This is the reality of life.

And like how the beauty of dusk gets neglected; people watch the sunset and then avert their attention again, so is it in the case of a person passing on. People talk about it, offer their condolences, pay their respects, but eventually, it all fades away. Things go back to normal for most, but for others, like me, the word normal goes along with the deceased, burying itself with them, never to return. People are still visiting and still phoning, which means the sun is still setting. But, I know too well that soon dusk will come. Soon it will all stop, the words of remorse and the words of advice will too disappear with the sun, only to return on its rise again, on the death of another being.

After the initial shock slowly faded, denial set in. Taken from me in the worst way, snatched from me without warning, my heart refused to accept the fact that my parents were gone. Both at one time, leaving me all alone.

But soon, realizing that denying the situation wasn’t going to bring them back and wasn’t going to help me in any way, I began to feel angry. Angry at how cruel life was, angry because why was this happening me, why not someone else. But most of all, angry at myself for not treating them better, for not valuing the short time we had together, angry at myself for all the times I ill treated them, for all the times I disobeyed them. Angry at myself because when I had the chance to attain my Jannah in the easiest way, I didn’t.

And now, the opportunity was gone.

Subsequently, sadness slowly crept in. It crept through the anger, past the denial, towards the shock and settled right at my heart.

And then, finally came acceptance.

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I sit silently, hearing words pass between my remaining close family members. Hearing but not quite listening.

Amaani. Inheritance. Home. School. Responsible. Dangerous. Young Girls. Deeyanah. 

I catch these words moving back and forth between my Uncle Abdullah, my Aunty Haleemah, my cousin Fuaad, my grandmother Basima and Uncle Rashid and Aunty Raeesah, Dee’s aunt and uncle.

“……Amaani?”

Silence falls.

“Huh?” I ask, looking up.

“I asked what is your opinion?” Uncle Abdullah repeats.

Opinion on what?

“You haven’t even being listening, have you?” Aunty Haleemah asks bitterly.

‘Why didn’t her mother die then we could see how well she’ll do at concentrating?!’ I think, hatefully. 

I look towards her resentfully and Dee’s hand grabs mines under the table, stopping the words I was about to say.

We currently sit around the dining room table, at my home, discussing the situation at hand.

Uncle Rashid and Aunty Raeesah insist that Dee must go with them but she refuses, knowing that Daanyaal is living with them. She had been living with us since the night she left her home and my parents willingly accepted her, providing for her whatever she needed, caring for her like their own child. And I couldn’t have been happier. However, now, my parents are gone and her parent’s home isn’t safe. But she has Uncle Rashid and his wife to look after her and handle most of the responsibilities. All she needs is a place to live.

I on the other hand, am much of a bigger problem..

I had already put forth my suggestion and I am sticking to it.

“I’m not living with you’ll,” I say eventually, looking directly at my uncle.

My 19 year old cousin rolls his eyes, clearly getting irritated, but I ignore him.

All his filthy mind has is wrong intentions..

“You girls are making this so much more difficult! Why can’t you’ll behave maturely and think straight?! We are trying to help, offering to provide for you’ll what you’ll need, but no! Are you mad to think that you two will be able live on your own and run a whole house?! For God’s sake Amaani, try and remember how old you are! You’re only fifteen. Fifteen, Amaani! I am extremely disappointed at your lack of manners and ability to think properly!” rants Aunty Haleemah, a disgusted look on her face, her loud voice bouncing off the walls of the large dining room.

Dee’s grip tightens, and I squeeze her hand as I once again remain silent, allowing this horrible woman to belittle me. Her words sting sharply, like salt rubbed on an open wound, hurting my already anguished heart.

‘Whatever you feel, keep it inside..’

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Qur’aanic Aayaat and Hadeeth related to parents:

“We have enjoined on man kindness to his parents; in pain did his mother bear him, and in pain did she give him birth” [Qur’aan 46:15]

The Prophet Muhammad (S.A.W) said, “Your Heaven lies under the feet of your mother.” [Ahmad, Nasai]

“The father is the middle [best] of the doors of Jannah.” [Tirmidhi]

A man came to the Prophet (S.A.W) and said, “O Messenger of Allah! Who among the people is the most worthy of my good companionship? The Prophet said: Your mother. The man said, ‘Then who?’ The Prophet (S.A.W) said: Then your mother. The man further asked, ‘Then who?’ The Prophet (S.A.W) said: Then your mother. The man asked again, ‘Then who?’ The Prophet (S.A.W) said: Then your father.” [Bukhari, Muslim].

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