Assalaamu alaikum warahmathullahi wabarakatuh!

I'm not going to be giving any excuse this time, just a heart felt apology for the extended delay. Sorry peeps! Truly am!

P.S Leave behind lottttss of comments to keep me motivated for quicker and more regular updates 😉

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"Tell the believing men to reduce (some) of their vision and guard their private parts. That is purer for them. Indeed, Allaah is Acquainted with what they do. And tell the believing women to reduce (some) of their vision and guard their private parts and not expose their adornment except that which (necessarily) appears thereof (i.e the face and hands)..."

[ An Nur : 31-32 ]

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He had been positively sure his sister was trying to set them up. It could not have meant anything else. All those indirect insinuations, dragging her name into almost all of their conversations, making sure to keep singing her praise, talking about her to her little daughter in his presence, forcing him to tag along whenever she visited Zahra or even just the locality her school was set in - all of it could not mean anything else but a sister who had set a cap of matchmaker on her head, assuming the role with utmost dedication and a steely resolve to finish what she has intended to start on.

The more he thought about it, the more he had been able to connect all the dots in his head with ease. It had all made sense to him, even the crazy parts and what was crazier was the fact that instead of feeling rage over what his sister had been doing behind his back, he had felt excitement bubbling inside his chest. He was easily able to see through stuff after his sister's plans had become transparent, and he would be an A class liar if he said he hadn't felt ease and relief following it. He had felt lighter, more joyful and happier at the prospect of being one step closer to finding his significant other half. Moreso, his gut feeling told him it was an aid from his Lord with his sister as a means.

Eagerness fused with hopeful admiration had flooded inside him at the thought of his sister trying to help him find what he wanted.

Now however, he wasn't sure if it were the case. Three weeks had passed successfully--or unsuccessfully if he were to choose the words himself--wihout any mention of a certain flower lady who puzzled him in more ways than one. Eshaal had stopped talking about her or even mentioning her name whenever he was around causing her to become more of an enigma because of how little he knew about her. It was almost as if she had never existed in the first place, all traces of her existence in their life wiped clean.

He was growing restless.

An oil tanker sounded a horn on the highway beside him, breaking his train of thoughts. Ibrahim pocketed his hands and furrowed his brows, observing the road that stretched ahead. He could go ahead and cross it and then pretend he had never even been here to begin with or he could just man up and take the road to his right, the road that may or may not lead him to what he had been waiting for the past few years of his life.

Another horn sounded and this time a shiny red car crossed him while he took a step back, raking a hand through his hair and wondering why he was beating himself over it.

Why on on earth was he so taken by her in the first place?

'Taken' was not even the word that was to be used when it came to her, he didn't know what was it that had to be used. It was sort of an unnamed emotion that he felt whenever he thought of her, a kind of peace that threatened to engulf his heart, a feeling of contentment that washed over his senses; a feeling of fulfilment.

He wasn't even sure why he felt so. Maybe it was because of the environment he had first seen her in or maybe it was what she did as a profession; maybe it was the way she handled those kids he had met on his past two visits or it could even be because of how much Taskeen seemed to adore her. An image of Taskeen laughing, hands wrapped around the subject of his musing flashed across his mind and Ibrahim immediately shut his eyes and stilled, willing himself to clear that mirage.

What was he even supposed to do?

From the day Eshaal had stopped mentioning her in his presnce, he had gradually started to grow restless and irritated. He wanted to know more about her - about that he was clear. He wanted to figure out if she was the one, he wanted to get to know her for marriage and if all went well, ask for her hand but he knew for sure that if he got his sister involved and then things did not work out, it was going to sever the ties between Eshaal and her friend.

Of course she wouldn't straight out cut off her friend, she was too soft to do that, but she would take it to heart and wouldn't like her as much again, and given how few friends she had because of her selective nature, Ibrahim didn't want to be the reason for the loss of a loyal companion.

A part of him however, wanted to take the risk but a bigger part of him, the caring and calculative part held him back. He didn't want to do this to his sister but he also didn't want to let this girl go without even so much as trying to know if she was written in his Qadr.

Or not.

He was so confused about it all that he had even gone as far as praying Istikhara but nothing vivid had taken place. He wasn't exactly waiting for a dream but there had been no removal of impediments or paving of paths either. Sure, he felt positive vibes, but who was to take the step? Him? Or his sister? Or should he get his mother to go do the talking?

Ibrahim looked up and down the road. Was he to leave everything to destiny and walk away or give it his last shot before leaving it be? Would she not end up with him if she were written for him anyway?

Another vehicle crossed him and for the briefest instant he hesitated, and then before he could regret or re-think his decision, he made up his mind and took the road to her campus. He wasn't going to re-trace his path now. He was going to give it his first and last shot come what may.

His brisk walk reduced the five minutes walk to two and the crispy morning helped alleviate his nerves. He crossed a group of teenage boys who were playing in order to be able to reach the main block and then walked through the ground. There were kids running about, some of whom he had already met. They waved out to him and he smilingly waved back, and just as he started to look for the girl in question, the squeal of a little girl arrested his attention.

For a moment he couldn't look away. He was frozen in the literal sense with his breath caught in his throat. His mind told him to avert his gaze but his eyes seemed to have a mind of their own. They just would not comply.

The girl he had his eyes on laughed as she lifted a little girl in the air, successfully managing to cut off the link between his sensory and motor nerves. Kids swarmed her with adoration and smiles, and the sight of it warmed his heart. To see her behaving in the manner she was with the little ones, it was like smooth salve to all his wounds inflicted by the world.

He just could not avert his gaze!

Ibrahim knew he wasn't supposed to be staring. He was allowed to if he was considering someone for marriage but here he hadn't even let his intentions known! He wanted someone to kick him so he could move. He shouldn't be staring.

Allaah!

The struggle between his eyes and mind would have lasted for mere five seconds when he felt something strike him. Startled, he clutched his back and spun around in reflex only to realise that it was a football that had been kicked at him. He let his eyes wander over the ground before they settled on the group of boys he had seen practicing on his way here. They all seem to have been gathered at the other end of the ground and upon realising that he was noticing them, they waved at him before a couple of them began jogging in his direction. He grabbed the ball and silently groaned, stealing a glance at Zahra. He was filled with an intense urge to smack himself. The one time he had lost control in his life, he had lost it very bad and it had taken His Lord a ball from these teenage boys to drag him out of his reverie.

The boys flashed him sheepish smiles as they neared. Short hair, flushed faces, tiny hair lining their upper lips - tell-tale signs of yet to grow moustaches and their wide innocent eyes at once made him drop the idea of rebuking them.

"Sorry bhaiya", a boy finally spoke. "I promise we didn't do it intentionally. We were practising, actually failing very badly at practicing free kicks when the ball ended up hitting you. We really didn't mean to."

Ibrahim scrutinised them and their companions who had stayed behind. They seemed eager, daring and so full of life, but not bold enough to commit such a deed. He felt himself loosen up so he decidedly threw the ball at a distance, ran towards it, performed a perfect knuckleball and watched as the ball sailed right above the gaping goalkeeper and right into the nearest goal post.

"Reminds me of my college days."

The boys stared, too stunned to articulate. Their eyes jumped back and forth between him and the ball, and they immediately flooded around him, calling 'bhaiya', their voices echoing all around.

"Bhaiya you know how to play?"

"That was just perfect!"

"Javeed didn't even realise when the ball flew right above him."

"You have to teach us bhaiya."

It took a while to settle them down, his mind already reprimanding him for having done what he had. The ball and the faces had just unleashed a part of his childhood and he didn't know if he was to be happy about it or be sad. He settled with being happy. "Yes, I know how to play. Been doing that since I was a kid."

"Bhaiya", the boy who had initially apologised finally started speaking on behalf of others and they all grew silent letting him say what he wanted to. "You seem like all our prayers come true."

Ibrahim wanted to laugh at the irony of the situation. Had he been a girl and the boy been, well, a grown up boy, it would have been a perfect pickup line. "I didn't realise that you guys had to pray for me."

"Well, actually, we are in a sort of a situation."

"What kind?"

"Our coach fractured his leg not too long ago and was advised complete bed rest for three months."

"And...?"

"It's been a week already but we've got our tournament beginning in less then two months and we really have no one to train us", another boy butted in.

"So we want you too..."

"--coach you for the tournament?" Ibrahim finished for them, and they all nodded vigorously.

"Please don't say no."

"We've really run out of options."

"There's no other way as far as we could see."

"You coming here was a Sign of Allaah. Please."

Ibrahim held up a hand. "You said your coach fractured his leg?"

"Yes bhaiya." They all chorused.

"But you'd still have other coaches, as in coaches for other sports? PE teachers?"

"They are all busy with their own teams."

"Done asking."

"Didn't work."

"Really bhaiya."

Ibrahim threw Zahra a sidelong glance and noticed that she still seemed to be engrossed in playing with the kids. She either hadn't noticed his presence or had simply not bothered to acknowledge it.

Of course, he caught himself admonishing his mind for its wayward thoughts, why would she of all person want to know or even be aware of me?

He felt like turning on his heels and walking back home, but then again something inside him wanted to be positive and hopeful, and reminded him of his Istikhara. It did seem as if his path was being cleared by a Divine source. Him being here, the coach being unavailable, the ball landing on him, him making a goal, the boys asking for help - all of it couldn't be coincidences right? The added benefit was that he was even playing it safe! Zahra wouldn't know why he was here until he was sure of it himself and Eshaal would also be unaware. He wasn't risking anything as of now. Maybe, just maybe things would work out.

He drew in a breath and faced the boys. "What are the days you'd be free for practice?"

There was yelling and screaming and renewed hope and overflowing joy. The boys chanted praises of their Lord and hugged each other, some even fist-bumped Ibrahim after which they began running in the direction of the centre of the ground, ushering him to come along.

Humbled at the enthusiasm, Ibrahim decided to steal one last glance at the little kids playing outside the main block, only to find that Zahra was standing there, hands folded, looking at the commotion going on with a reproachful look.

He felt like a kid caught with his hand inside the cookie jar and his ears heated up on their own accord. He knew he was to go speak with the authorities before proclaiming himself to be the temporary coach but the kids' excitement won him over and he promised himself he'd do that in a while.

The next time he gathered the courage to casually look in the direction of the main block as they played, she was no longer there.

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They broke for dhur salaah so they could go for jama'ah in the campus masjid. It took a while for their prayer to end and when it did and they walked back to the field, Ibrahim found Waseema aunty awaiting him.

Somehow the word had spread about him training the kids unofficially and Ibrahim could only hope she wasn't there to give him a sound scolding. To his surprise, she was very polite, enquiring after Eshaal, her family about their parents before mildly questioning as to what had led him to visiting them and if the boys had forced him into training them. For the latter he was easily able to deny but for the former, he found himself hesitating to answer. His morals wouldn't let him lie and his ego wouldn't let him tell the truth. He floundered for a moment choosing the words in his head before finally settling with a shrug, hoping, desperately praying she doesn't probe any further. Thankfully, she didn't. Instead she spoke about settling with the management about the timings he had to come in for the training. Finally, she thanked him for doing what he was in order to help the students.

"May He grant you all the halaal desires of your heart beta", she prayed and Ibrahim could only whisper 'Ameen' to it to himself over and over again.

As the afternoon regressed he found himself seated in front of his brother for lunch, the table set with some of his favourites.

"I thought I could borrow the tradition of your house man, and cook on all Sundays. What do you have to say about my humble endeavour?"

"Frankly, as long as it gives my sister some time for herself, I don't care what you do."

Tanvir smirked. "Even if that means getting her a counterpart?"

"Yes."

Taskeen's soft toy flew from inside the room and landed itself on Tanvir's head. He mock-yelped. "Ouch."

"I do not want to throw the cutlery I have in front of me and then be charged for murder." Eshaal's voice rung in the air.

"Aye aye madame! Utmost care would be taken not to mention the word again?"

"Better."

"Would 'competition' do? Or 'co-wives'?"

"Tanvir!"

"Okay! Okay! I surrender!" Tanvir had a pleased look on his face after having tickled his wife and Ibrahim who had been noticing it all broke into laughter. It was weeks after which Ibrahim was laughing freely, with no niggling voice whispering stuff to him at the back of his head and Tanvir easily caught on to that. His face registered surprise as he arched his brows and rubbed his beard slightly, giving Ibrahim 'the look'.

"Found a girl?", he mouthed just as Eshaal entered the room from behind them muttering something about having an incorrigible husband. Ibrahim's eyes widened and he shook his head subtly, wordlessly warning him to drop the topic. His brother picked on the seriousness and both men resumed eating before she could notice their exchange.

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It was a breezy evening, and the weather was pleasantly warm, neither too hold nor too cold, the very advantage of living in a tropical city. The sky had taken on a bright blue hue with very flew clouds strewn across it and the same could be said about the inhabitants of the city. Their locality was relatively empty and the few who were parading about the streets were little kids who were engrossed in their weekly cricket match or youngsters who had gathered together to hang out with friends.

"Ahieveyu bhushuu."

Amused, Ibrahim looked down at his niece who was comfortably seated in his arms, making an attempt to talk to him.

"Bashivehoo."

"Yes", he laughed. "Interesting evening, isn't it? Just you and me, without your boring old parents?"

Taskeen giggled attempting to climb on his shoulders pretending that he was a human-mountain.

"Mission abandoned chief, we do not have the required force", he mimicked in a playful voice, launching his niece in the air and causing her to erupt into full blown laughter. "We cannot climb the mountain today now, can we?"

He caught and nestled her in his arms before continuing with their stroll. The little one seemed to be in a particularly good mood today, laughing and blabbering and he was glad he had taken her out for a stroll. He liked her best this way - talking gibberish in her baby voice and making mischief. It made her seem all the more adorable and Ibrahim found that he was thoroughly enjoying the day with such cute company, all confusions and chaos abandoned to faraway lands.

It wasn't long when he came across a little boy selling flowers. He shyly approached Ibrahim and he gave him a five hundred rupees note before grabbing a bunch of flowers from his basket. The boy stood there stupefied claiming he didn't have change to which Ibrahim smiled and told him to consider it as a gift from a brother. The boy flashed him a grateful watery smile before trotting away. No sooner had he disappeared Taskeen jumped looking at the flowers he held in his hand.

Ibrahim offered her the bunch and she grabbed it gleefully, waving it in the air with so much enthusiasm. She took it close to her face, admired it and then shoved it in Ibrahim's face. "Boo! Boo!"

"Boo?" Ibrahim scrunched his face trying to make out what she was trying to say.

"Boo! Boo!" She waved it in the air again.

"Oh! You mean phool?"

Her eyes lit up! "Poo! Poo."

Ibrahim's lips curved and he hugged the living treasure he held close to his chest, his mind automatically translating the word into Arabic and reminding him of the girl bearing the same name.

"Yes phool. Only I do not know if her name was actually written down next to mine." He withdrew her from her chest and gave her a smile. "I guess it would only be revealed with time."

I have written all my desires

And whispered all my pleas.

Only my Lord knows what would happen now -

If it would be or would not be.

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Glossary

💦bhaiya : a Hindi/Urdu word for elder brother.

💦dhur salaah : noon prayer.

💦jama'ah : congregation.

💦 phool : flower.

💦beta : son.

💦Ameen : Oh Allaah! Grant me!

💦 Qadr : destiny.

💦Istikhara : 2 units of voluntary prayers usually said when one is confused over two or more options and does not know which one to settle with. In the Indian subcontinent, there's a widespread misconception that you are to say this prayer right before sleeping and that you'd dream of something after you've said it.

It however, is not true. You may not always dream of something. Most of the time, if the thing you wish for is in your Qadr, you get good vibes or the impediments in your path is removed. If is isn't in your Qadr, the vice occurs.

Hope that cleared your doubts. Grrr I sound like Dr.ZN 😂

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This time I'm really hoping you people are eager to answer my questions 😁

🎯 Were you expecting an update?

🎯 Did you like it? Did it help in uplifting your spirits?

🎯 Favourite part?

🎯 Did you see any of what happened coming?

🎯 Football huh? Do you think our new coach would/should have a little drama in his life? 😆

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Important!

I would be really really happy and thankful and over the moon if you people could make an effort to remember me by name in your dua. Things haven't been good of late (translation: had it really bad) and I've also been facing crossroads at every turn I take. (I'm getting stumped) I need lots of dua for my health, a little bit of ease, good decision making skills and an even firm willpower. Please do pray for me.

~A humble message from your humbled sister in Islaam.

And hey! A few of my interviews were posted on a few accounts. Head over to my reading lists and read them 😊

Assalaamu alaikum warahmathullahi wabarakatuh!

Stay smiling and happy and grateful!

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