Nabi صلى ألله عليه و سلم said something to this effect:
"A believer is neither a defamer, nor a curser, nor coarse nor obscene "

***

The hands of the clock continued ticking away. Each tick infuriated him further.

Time waits for no man, continuing it's duty of circulating its hands around the clock. Unfortunate are those who do not know the value of time.

Suhaib had been returning home late for a while now and he needed to know what was going on.

His anger had reached its peak, however whenever he was angry Zainab's words would always replay in his mind, she always calmed him down in situations like these.

Unfortunately she had not been well for the past week so she had retired to bed early.

He closed his eyes,  while he massaged his temples.

"Luqmaan honey don't insult the chid and call him bad names, speak to him nicely and explain to him. Sometimes a scolding is needed but don't curse and defame a child. "

"I once read somewhere that bad words directd to a child teach him cursing, which later he will use against others, including his parents or relatives. He might also gradually believe that such negative attributes reflect his true self which is terrible for self esteem."

He used to have a terrible temper initially, but Zainab had been a patient wife and still is. She taught him alot of things and assisted him to get rid of alot of bad habits, Allah bless her always, she was such a good wife.

He knew how it was to be involved with the wrong company and the effects it has on a person, after his father's death he was only seventeen years of age, his mother had fallen into a depression and he resorted to drugs.

Once he was twenty five his mother got him married to Zainab.Their marriage had not been an easy one, for he was still heavily addicted to drugs and sometimes he would return home drunk, yet his dear Zainab bore every single bad habit of his most patiently.

One dreadful night he had returned home, drunk out of his mind. As usual she would stay up waiting for him. All she wanted to do was assist him in freshening up and tuck him into bed. Due to being thoroughly intoxicated, he hadn't realised how hard he had pushed her, that she tumbled down the flight of stairs. Until he awoke the next morning, he found her unconcious in a foetus position on the living room floor, blood stains visible on the carpet.

He had rushed her to the hospital, hoping she would be okay. What he had heard from the doctor's left him shocked and shaken, his wife had been expecting, she had already reached the end of her third month, and due to the fatal fall she had miscarried.

What shattered him further was the broken look in her eyes when she had told him that she prepared an exquisite dinner and dressed up prettyily as she had found out that very morning that she was expecting.
She had even gone to the doctor with her mother that very day to confirm the news, she had been so excited, over the moon ! Yet the turn of events left her completely shattered. She hadn't been herself for a good few months, and he had resorted to drinking every day, drowning his worries in intoxicants.

One morning she had sat him down and told him she had had enough and that she wanted a divorce.

That's when he was shaken out of his misguided assumptions. That day he realised that becoming drunk and running away from his problems was not going to solve anything, he had to face it and find a solution. He had also realised that he had become so accustomed to Zainab, even when she was upset and not herself. Her presence was enough to comfort him.

When she was happy and he would walk into the house seeing his wife's beaming smile, he forgot all his stress and worries and he felt like the luckiest man on earth.

That day he had promised her that he would change, he had confessed that she meant the world to him and he would never stop trying to be a better man.

She had helped him every step of the way, she had corrected him when he had faltered. She had picked him up when he fell down. She had cheered him on when he felt that he could no longer move forward. She had encouraged him to move forward when he had progressed.

She never left his side and for that he would be forever grateful. Look how far they had come with the help of Allah SWT. They had six lovely children and their life was filled with happiness and peace.

He sat down on the couch, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, he  recited the Holy Quraan and  waited for the front door to click open, but it never did.

Yahya walked down the steps, with slow calculating strides. His walking stick thuded upon the wooden steps as he descended it slowly.

Once he reached the bottom of the staircase, he leaned agianst the wall, catching his breath.

Health is a bounty only the sick are aware of. He could not even climb down a few stairs without losing his breath. He had bad asthma and also had three stents in his heart.

When Talha's mother was alive she took great care of him, now he was left all by himself, with a helper to take care of him and a disobedient son who barely acknowledged his existence. 

Once he caught his breath again, he ambled towards the kitchen.

With shaky hands, he filled a glass with water, then settled on the chair, wetting his parched throat.

Thembi the helper, had not awoken as yet and he didn't want to disturb her just to refill his jug, so after he read his fajr salaah he had decided to get the water himself. He needed the walk anyway.

It was tiring to be couped up in the same room the whole day and look at the same four walls all the time.

He sighed, placing the glass on the table.

Life had become so bitter without his Maimoona.

If she were still alive, he would be sitting on this very chair, newspaper in hand, while she went about preparing his morning tea.

The entire kitchen would be filled with the smell of boiled tea. Only she knew how to make it the way he liked it, a qaurter cup of water and three quarters milk, half a stick of cinnamon, a green elachi, some samf, and a teaspoon of honey, no sugar.

She would set his hot tea on a saucer, knowing well that he would like to pour the first few sips into the saucer and then drink it, as well as  a side plate with an assortment of homemade biscuits.She would then settle down besides him with her own cup of tea.

She would always take interest in the things he took interest in, even if she never really liked reading the newspaper, she would  enquire the latest news.

He had stopped drinking boiled tea after her death, only she could make it the way he liked it, now he just settled for the English tea that Thembi made.

He sighed once again, his Maimoona was just a figment of his imagination now. He missed her every second he breathed, but In ShaAllah she's in a better place.

He remained seated on the chair, watching the sun rise and wash the earth with its radiance.

Maimoona loved watching the sun rise. She would always sit by the window with her tasbeeh and make thikr, while she watched the earth being lit up by its light.

Thembi walked into the kitchen, not expecting anyone to be seated on the chair, she jumped in fright.

"Haaibo Madala (old man) what are you doing here?"

She questioned, cultching her heart dramatically.

A small smile broke out onto his wrinkled face, the white hairs of his beard shone beneath the rays of the sun.

"Good morning Thembi. "

"Good Morning Sir"

She smiled widely.

"I was feeling very thirsty Ma. So I came down to drink water."

She clicked her tongue in disapproval.

"Haai Madala ! Why didn't you wake Thembi up. Thembi will give you the water. "

The corners of his lips lifted.

"Thank You Thembi, but I don't like to disturb you when you are asleep. "

"No Madala, you won't disturb me. Before Madam Maimoona did go back to God, she did tell me I must take good care of you. She will be very angry if I don't take care of you."

"May Allah guide and reward you Thembi, you take very good care of me. You are the only one I have ! You are like my daughter."

She patted her eyes.

"Eish Madala you know how to make me cry. You did touch my heart!"

He shook his head, throwing his head back in laughter.

Atleast she was here to cheer him up and make him laugh.

"Haai Madala, you sure I am really like your daughter? Or you just talking with me nicely because you want me to cook biryani for you. "

He laughed once again.

"No Thembi, I only like biryani on some Fridays, not on a Wednesday."

"Ei wena ! I did forget today is Wednesday. It's my grandchilds awards today. I'm so sorry for telling you so late sir, can I please take off for a few hours today?"

He nodded.

" You can take off the whole day, spend time with your family. "

She shook her head.

" Haai no, I can't leave you alone for so long Madala."

He smiled at her, she was their helper yet she was more concerned than his own blood and flesh, his son...

She switched on the kettle, humming to herself as she took out three cups from the cupboard.

She wasn't fond of Talha. The main reason she disliked him was because of his attitude of  indifference towards  his father, but because her Madam had told her to look after her son as well, she made sure to feed him atleast.

Madam Maimoona was a good woman, the house used to be so much more lively and beautiful when she was here.

Everything would have been very different. Talha would willingly join them for breakfast and she wouldn't have to put up with his idiotic and rude behaviour. He was a very sweet boy once before, one loss made him bitter and his mothers death made him even more bitter.

She was just about to pour the water into the cups, when the door bell rang.

She placed the kettle back onto the counter top.

"It must be Grace, she's here early today. Good she can clean the house nicely today. Eish she is very lazy that one!"

Muttering to herself she left the kitchen.

Yahya shook his head, amused at her antics.

Thembi had been working for them for years. After his wife had passed away, he had hired another helper to clean the house, so that she would not be burdened with house work and looking after him and his son.

Since he appointed her to supervise Grace who was half  her age, fit to be her daughter, she derived enjoyment in bossing her around and picking out her faults.

"Haaibo! What is this! What is going on here ! "

He heard Thembi yelling.

"Stop yelling Thembi! !"

Talha answered in a loud voice, clearly annoyed.

Yahya took hold of his walking stick, making his way to the living room.

" Hey you small boy! How many times must I tell you don't call me Thembi..you say Mama Thembi or Madam !"

She wagged her finger at him.

"You are not my mother neither my boss! I am your boss! You work for me."

He rolled his eyes, walking back into the living room.

Grace stood awkwardly in the doorway of the dinning room, trying hard not to laugh at Thembi's furious expression.

She clicked her tongue.

"One day I will klap that boy."

"What is the matter?"

Yahya questioned, leaning against the table.

She motioned for him to go into the living room.

He ambled into the living room, seeing Talha's usual friends as well as some new boy he hadn't met before covered with blankets, fast asleep on the living room floor.

Talha sat on the single couch, scrolling on his phone.

He hadn't noticed his father by the door.

"Assalamualaykum Wa Rahmatullah"

His father greeted, smiling.

Talha glanced up, shocked to hear his voice, his father hardly ever came down.He always stayed couped up in his room.

He studied his fathers face for a few seconds. He looked more wrinkled than the last time he saw him....when was that ? Two months ago? When he noticed his fathers smile, he looked away.

"Waalaykmusalam"

He muttered indifferently.

Yahyas smile fell.

Was his son always going to be so cold?

His gaze drifted towards the sleeping boys.

"Who are these boys?"

"Just some friends."

He replied, eyes glued to his phone.

"Why did they stay over?"

Talha stood up abruptly, raising his voice in anger.

"You don't have to question me! Who they are and what they are doing here is none of your business !"

Yahya's eyes widened, he shook his head taking a few steps back.

Hearing the commotion, Suhaib stirred in his sleep.

Slowly his eyes fluttered open, looking at the unfamiliar ceiling, his eyes clouded with confusion.

He sat up, taking in his surroundings until realisation dawned on him, he fell asleep in Talhas house!

He saw Talha standing besides him, his hands clenched in anger.

"Why are you yelling man!"

Suhaib stood up, glaring at him.

Not paying Suhaib heed, his eyes were fixed ahead.

Suhaib followed his gaze, seeing an old man, clad in a white thawb, a white knitted topee sat atop his head, a pure white beard adorned his wrinkled face. He held a walking stick in his hand, a broken expression splattered acrooss his face.

Talha resembled this man through and thorough.

His eyes widened.

  It was Talha's father!

He held Talha by his arm, getting his attention.

"Why are you yelling at your father!"

He questioned in a stern voice.

Yahya's gaze softened, seeing this unknown boy trying to scold his son.

He smiled sadly, his son would not listen, he would not take heed, he had a heart of stone.

Only his mother knew how to handle him, only she could pacify him, but she was not here now.

He gave up a long time ago.

Talha scoffed.

"He deserves to be yelled at for meddling in my affairs. He can't mind his own damn business!"

Suhaib's jaw dropped in shock.

How could he speak about his father like that?

He could never even imagine disagreeing with his own father, let alone speaking disrespectfuly.

"Have you no shame Talha! "

He shook his arm.

Talha pulled his arm away, glaring at him.

He pointed a threatening finger at Suhaib.

"Listen here Mister know it all, don't freakin tell me what and what not to do okay! If you can't stand my behaviour get out of my damn house!"

Saying that he pushed him aside.

Walking past his father, he grabbed his house key from the hook, slamming the front door shut.

He jumped into the car and zoomed off.

He needed his morning dose of drugs.

Suhaib gave his father a bewildered look, who returned a watery smile.

Yahya smiled sadly.

"Don't worry about that. It happens all the time."

Suhaib nodded, still shocked at his friends behaviour.

"Would you like to join this old man for tea my boy?"

He asked hopefully.

"Jee. "

Suhaib smiled.

After freshening up, he joined Yahya in the kitchen.

The table had already been set for breakfast.

Three cups of tea stood on the table, surrounded by Madeira cake, an assortment of biscuits, croissants, toasted bread, fried eggs and jam.

Thembi stood by the stove, humming to herself as she flipped the last pancake.

Yahya beckoned Suhaib to sit beside him, just as Thembi joined them, settling herself opposite to them.

Yahya introduced her to Suhaib.

"This is Thembi. She looks after me since Talha's mother passed away, May Allah grant her Jannatul Firdaus."

"Hello. How are you? I'm Suhaib, Talhas friend. "

Suhaib gave her a small smile.

"Hello boy."

She beamed at him.

"This one, he is a good boy. How he did become Talhas friend, hoo eh eh only God knows! "

She clicked her tongue in annoyance, pushing the cup of tea towards him.

He bit back a smile, thanking her for the tea.

As he ate his breakfast, she scrutinised him.

He squirmed under her gaze, feeling uncomfortable.

Yahya noticed his discomfort. Chuckling , he reprimanded her.

"Don't make the boy feel uncomfortable, let him eat in peace."

"Hoo eh eh ! He must not shy from me! I am old enough to be his mother!"

Suhaib smiled, uncomfortably.

"I was just thinking he is a beautiful boy, ne Madala. "

Suhaiba ears tinged pink in embarrassment.

Yahya agreed.

She clicked her tongue.

"Haai eish! Mara its too sad you don't have a daughter!"

Suhaib cleared his throat awkwardly.

"I may have a niece!"

Yahya humoured her. 

She shook her head in disapproval.

"Haai no Madala! I hope you don't mean that one, she is thin like a broom stick! Haai that girl she don't eat nothing Madala! She looks like a child still! Haaibo!"

Yahya laughed.

"No I'm not talking about her. I mean Husna."

Suhaib almost choked on his tea.

He was still in school for crying out loud!

"Which one is that?"

She squinted her eyes.

"My brother Yunus, his daughter. "

She beamed once again, recalling the girl visiting a few times.

"Eish you are good with this matchmaking Madala! She is a good one that one! She has the meat on her body, and she is very beautiful! She will put this boys beauty to shame!"

Suhaib chuckled.

This woman was quite entertaining.

He closed the door slowly, locking the door. He carefully hung the key on the hook.

He hoped no one would be awake,  but that was foolish to hope for, even if everyone was asleep now, they would have noticed he was not home when they went to the masjid for fajr Salaah.

He tiptoed up the stairs, cringing with every creak the stairs emitted.

Once he reached the top of the stairs, he sighed in relief.

The house was quite, everyone slept after fajr Salaah. He knew they would be up in the next hour, getting ready for school and work.

He would not only have to face Zahra today, but his parents as well.

He was dead meat!

Sighing he opened his door, closing it softly behind him.

When he turned around, his heart dropped to the floor.

His father sat on his bed, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose ,he read an Islamic book.

Folding the corner of the page, he closed the book. Setting  it aside, he took off his glasses, folded it and resting it on the book.

With a stern glare, he uttered  the four words that Suhaib was dreading.

"We need to talk!"