king pov
"Hey, ma." I said as I saw her sitting on a couch beside the infamous window with the view of the tree. She had her hands in her lap and a faint smile on her face as she looked up at my voice.
"Hello, King." She spoke, gesturing with her hand for me to sit beside her on the empty space on the small two seater couch. I barely fit in the small space. She was a petite woman, my mother. Probably half my size and so once I sat she looked up to face me. This was the first time I was beside her as a Muslim. I had become Muslim yesterday and I was going to tell her about my newly found identity and purpose in life.
"What happened to your chair, mum?" I asked her.
"I didn't want it anymore. This way we can sit beside each other." She said, glancing at me once again before looking out the window. I smiled as I looked at her, watching her features as she sighed in content and tilted her head to the side, resting her cheek in her palm, her elbow propped onto the arm rest of the couch.
"Mum, I have to tell you something." I began, uncomfortably turning my body to the side and resting my hand on her shoulder.
"Mum? Can you look at me, please?" I asked softly.
"I'm looking outside. I'm listening." She answered me. She glanced at me for a second and smiled briefly before turning to look back at the window while I exhaled and shut my eyes, taking in deep breaths to calm the raging beating of my heart.
"Mum, do you know who a Muslim is?" I asked her simply, tilting my head to see her features, yet they didn't change whatsoever.
"Yes, they're people of the abrahamic religion; Islam." She answered me easily and I smiled widely, nodding my head as I swallowed the moisture in my mouth and licked my lips.
"That's right, mum. Do you think they're good people?" I asked her this time. I knew my mum didn't ever hold any ill thoughts towards anyone. She was the kindest, most accepting person ever.
"I've met some in my lifetime. They're people, just like you and I." She told me, finally turning her head to look at my face, her eyes that matched my own staring at me deeply.
"Mum ... " I trailed off before clearing my throat. "I've become a Muslim, mum." I said clearly, watching as the smile slowly faded off her face while she looked at me with a stoic expression, void of any emotion.
"W-what ... what does that mean?" She stammered, furrowing her eyebrows as I watched her chest heave up and down more visibly than it was before. I went blank for a second, not knowing what she was thinking or why she had reacted this way.
"I-it ... Nothing, mum. It just means I devote my life to God and obeying His rules, his prophet , and that I believe in Him and the angels, the holy books, His messengers, the day of judgment and Divine destiny." I explained in a nutshell.
"Are you still going to come see me?" She whispered softly, making me furrow my eyebrows.
"Of course, mum. In fact, I'll come even more, bring gifts every time, show you how much I love you and how grateful I am for you. You're my key to paradise now, mum. I'm going to be an even better son." I told her, meaning every word. She was my key to paradise. In Islam, my entrance to heaven was dependent on my treatment of my mother, my mother, my mother and then my father.
Abu Huraira reported: A man asked the Messenger of Allah, "Who is most deserving of my good company?" The Prophet said, "Your mother." The man asked, "Then who?" The Prophet "said "Your mother." The man asked again, "Then who?" The Prophet " said, "Your mother." The man asked again, "Then who?" The Prophet " said, "Then your father."
"Mum, this isn't going to change anything between us except for the better, I promise you." I told her, holding her face in my hands.
"Keep your promise, King." She stated simply, staring into my eyes with glossed ones before turning away, my hands dropping from her face. "You're my only family." She whispered and I almost missed it.
My heart pounded against my rib cage so loud that I heard and felt it in my throat, her words making me feel an emotion I wasn't used to feeling. Happiness. I felt a tear slide down my cheek, but I didn't wipe it away, wanting to use her emotional state to my advantage I quickly asked her.
"Can I hug you?" As soon as the words escaped my mouth, her expression hardened. She scoffed, shaking her head quickly, back to her normal self.
"That's unnecessary." She spoke, exhaling as she rested her cheek in her palm again, staring aimlessly out the window. I knew it wouldn't last long. Regardless, I didn't care. She acknowledged me as her only family and that was enough. She was my only family too.
Three weeks later
"Pass over here!" Ayman shouted at me and I bounced the basketball a few more times before passing it to him. He quickly dribbled past Ahmad who didn't stand a chance and shot, the ball falling through the hoop cleanly.
"Ahmad, you surprise me every time." I laughed loudly, slapping Ayman's extended hand twice before throwing an arm over Ahmad who shrugged me off with a glare.
"Don't you think it's a bit unfair for Ayman and King to be in the same team?" Ahmad muttered at the other guys who all shrugged indifferently while laughing at him also.
"Don't worry. It's soccer night tomorrow." Bilal snickered, raising his brows at Ahmad who nodded.
"Who's house?" I asked, bouncing the ball aimlessly as the game had clearly ended through unspoken words. Everyone was lounging around, drinking water and gathering their belongings.
"Mine." Ayman answered as he skulled his water while squatting. That was the Sunnah. To drink water while sitting down, and while in public with no where to sit, then to squat and drink water. The guys had a movement where they would share videos of themselves fulfilling the Sunnah acts and share it on social media with the hashtag #LetTheSunnahGoForth and people would benefit and learn. It was pretty cool.
Soccer night was the boys' thing. I had been to two before I reverted and now this was my third after reverting. It had been three weeks since that day and Alhamdulillah every day was making me realize more and more that I had truly made the right decision. These guys were basically my family now and when I didn't see them for one day it would feel weird. It rarely happened though since I spent most of my post-school hours at the masjid where most of them would be for prayers.
Soccer nights were when there was a derby match scheduled and so the guys would meet up after dhuhr, head out and play some soccer at the local field for a few hours before getting lunch, heading to the mosque to pray Asr and then going to one of the guys houses to watch the match together where they would pray maghrib and after praying isha at the mosque, they would split up.
Goals.
"Yes!" One of the guys cheered. "That means biryani!" He called and the rest of the guys all made drooling effects making me laugh.
"Biryani?"
"Ayman's sister makes her biryani on our soccer nights at their house." One of the other guys said to me and I widened my eyes, my mouth began salivating already in excitement for the biryani I was going to be blessed with once again.
"Where are you heading off to again!?" My dad shouted as I rushed down the stairs and towards the door, wanting to leave as soon as possible. I was already running late because I had snoozed my alarm one too many times, I did not have time for this.
"I'm going out with some friends." I answered him after taking a deep breath and keeping my anger in check. Islam had taught me, no matter how bad your parents may be, your existence wasn't possible without them and for that you could not repay them no matter what you do.
"Where to?" He asked again with a raised eyebrow. No doubt, my dad was getting increasingly curious as to why my attitude towards him was so calm and collected lately.
"Lunch, soccer, dinner ... " I trailed off simply with a shrug, turning the door knob and pausing as I waited for another question. When he stayed silent and turned back to the TV, I walked out with a shake of my head. Slowly it was getting easier to speak to my dad in a respectful manner. Walter would ask me about my progress every now and then to remind me. He said he knew the proceeds were difficult but that over time, it would become routine, and slowly, I felt it becoming that way. Alhamdulillah.
"Your car is ready, sir." One of the workers said to me and I smiled at him with a nod, thanking him as I got into the car and drove out the gates and towards the local soccer field. It only took me about half an hour to get there and most of the guys were there already. I knew all of them by name, but to be honest, I wasn't very close with many. Ahmad, Walter, Bilal, Ayman and Yahya were probably the guys I was closest to. The rest were good acquaintances but even so, I knew I could always go to any of them if I needed anything.
Soon enough I was sweating like crazy, as was everyone else on the field. We played for a while before heading to the local kebab shop we went to every time we all met up. The kebabs were amazing and the owner was an old Turkish man named Kemal, who had clearly worked hard all his life. He was only sixty yet he looked older with the wrinkles covering his face. He was a very nice man with broken English who loved seeing us. The way his smile lit up whenever he saw us arrive was enough to make us feel bad when we went to eat anywhere other than here, not that he would have minded if we did, but we all felt like we were betraying him if we did.
We all had small talk with him for a while before sitting down on the little chairs and tables, chatting amongst ourselves about the match tonight and who would win.Fifteen minutes later Kemal called Ahmad to the window to get the donner kebabs and he handed them all out to us. We all got the same order, not being able to make Kemal do any extra work than necessary.
Again, that was a part of Islam. Man, everything about this religion taught peace, tranquility, ease, and all things good. If this was me with a group of non Muslims friends, we wouldn't even care what the man had to struggle with preparing ten specific orders. I would think that it's his job, we're giving him his money and he was probably used to it. But now, I don't think like that. Yes, it was his job, and yes I paid him, but why not ease his job? Why not help make his life easier, even if it was by the tiniest bit?
Alhamdulillah.
"Hurry up, boys. We're running late. There's twenty minutes for 'asr." Bilal spoke as he stood up, wiped his mouth and after throwing his wrappers in he went toKemal, thanking him and giving him a ten dollar note for his kebab. He ended up waiting another two minutes for Yahya and Walter to finish and pay also before the three of them left, leaving us seven guys.
"You guys eat so slow, bruv." I muttered as I looked at them. I was done at the same time as Bilal but I had a car so I couldn't leave until at least one more person was done. Otherwise they wouldn't fit in Ayman's car.
"I'm done, I'm done." Ahmad muttered and after paying for our kebabs we were off to the masjid. I loved being at the masjid before the adhan because no matter how many times I heard it, I still felt an amazing sense of serenity and peace when I heard it, not to mention I loved praying in the first row. It was narrated that the prophet said; Allaah and the angels send blessings upon the first row.
It did wonders to my khushoo' thinking of that while I was in salah. Eventually we prayed 'asr, did the tasbeeh and then all waited outside for Ayman as he went to the office to take care of a little paperwork for an upcoming fundraiser event.
It didn't take him that long to complete and after a pit stop at a milk bar to buy a whole load of junk food, we made our way to Ayman's house. He pulled into the driveway of a small home and I ended up parking across the road on the curb since the driveway was only for one car.
The house was made of red and brown brick and it had a dark brown tiled roof. The door was in the middle of two large windows on either side, covered with curtains. The fence surrounded the house and inside there were flowers around the perimeter that were dead and wilting. I suppose no one really took care of them since we had just entered spring. We all piled out of the cars and Ayman walked ahead, using his keys to enter the house and shut the door behind him as we waited outside so he could make sure his mum or sister weren't around.
Two minutes later he opened the door and welcomed us in. The interior was simple. There were black leather couches in the living room with a black glass coffee table in the middle. The tv sat on top of a white unit with three drawers and above it there was a long ledge lined with documentaries. There were a lot of documentaries.
"Make yourself at home." Ayman chuckled as he watched me inspect the house. I laughed and snapped out of my inspection mode, going further into the living room and sitting on an empty seat where all the guys already were.
I could already smell it. The biryani. It reminded me of the day I reverted and I smiled, feeling my mouth salivate even though we had only eaten one hour ago. I guess I'd be completely starved until dinner time.
We laughed loudly, speaking of every topic the conversations led to while the tv was on lightly in the background. Soon enough, it was time to start and Ayman tapped my shoulder, gesturing me to follow him.
I got up and walked with him to the kitchen. "Help me take these." He said and I rolled my eyes jokingly asking him why he picked the newest guest to serve. He laughed and told me to shut up, shoving two bowls into my hand. I smirked and shook my head, carrying them inside and putting them on the table before going back to the kitchen to get the other two while he brought out drinks and cups after me.
We watched the match and every now and then we would all stand up in apprehension and yell as the team we barracked for would be on the attacking end but most of the time they would either miss the shot or the keeper would save it and so we would groan and complain and sit back down.
At the end of ninety three minutes, we turned it off. Bilal, Abdallah, Ramiz and Sufyan had been victorious with their team winning the match 3-1 and so the rest of us were just muttering and complaining about the referee being biased and giving unnecessary free kicks and whatnot. The typical antics and excuses after your team loses, you know.
"There's twenty minutes till Maghrib." I said, looking at my watch. "Can I use the bathroom?" I asked Ayman and he nodded telling me it was the last door on the left in the corridor. I got up, taking my watch off and putting it on the dinner table as I walked past the kitchen and into the hallway. There were three doors on either side. I walked straight into the last one on the left after knocking and locked it behind me. I had wudu and after using the towel to dry myself, I put my socks back on while sitting on the corner of the bathtub and left the room.
The door across the bathroom caught my eye. It wasn't plain like the other ones. It had the basmala written on it with light pink paint in Arabic, ayatul kursi beneath it. It was most likely Ayman's sister's room, the one who made the biryani. I smiled as I knew we'd be eating it after Maghrib and left the hallway to go to the living room again, putting my watch back on.
A few other guys refreshed their wudhu and we began praying with Bilal leading the prayer. He recited the words of Allah beautifully, with perfect tajweed. His voice was soft and slow and it spread ease throughout me. He recited a short surah, breaking it into three and reciting each third in every rakat. Alhamdulillah for these friends. More than friends.
They were family now. We finished in ten minutes and all began praying the sunnah to ourselves. Bilal turned around and looked to see we were all finished and he made a short du'a that we said Ameen to before folding away all the prayer mats and putting them on the small table beside a bookshelf.
"Yallah, lads, set the table." Ayman said while clapping his hands as he took out plates from the cupboard and put them on the bench. The guys took the plates and began placing them around the small dinner table that was only for four people.
"Oh, you know what?" Ahmad spoke. "Bun this. It's just going to make more dishes for your mum and that."
"Yeah, we won't fit on the table either." Hussain added, taking the plates back up off the table and stacking them in Ahmad's arms.
"Sunnah style!" Bilal cheered, making everyone laugh. "Let the Sunnah go forth." He added, the other guys saying alhamdulillah. Sunnah style? Did that mean eating with our hands? I had seen many men at the masjid eat food with their fingers but I never knew it was the sunnah of rasulullah to do so. I simply thought it was a cultural thing.
"Then go clear the table inside." Ayman ordered as he mixed the pot of biryani over the stove, heating it. I walked to the living room with two of the other guys and we stacked up the bowls of junk food and all the wrappers and empty soft drink cans, taking them back into the kitchen and stacking them neatly on the bench.
"Here, I got it." I told Ayman as I took the heat mat from his hands and walked to the coffee table inside, putting it on the center and watching as all the guys rushed to surround the table, sitting on their knees. Ayman placed the pot on top of the heat mat before leaving back to the kitchen after telling us he'd be back after giving his mum and sister a plate.
"Bismillah." They all said as they dug in with their fingers hungrily, moaning about the amazing flavor while I chuckled. "I've never done this." I spoke with an awkward cough as the guys watched me use my fingers to get the rice and put it to my mouth. In the 30 cm's that the food had traveled, half of the grains had fallen on to the table, making the guys chuckle, but to be honest, the only thing going through my mind was the taste of this beautiful ni'mah. Alhamdulillah.
"Not bad for your first time." Hussain who was beside me commented, tapping my back with his clean hand making me smirk as I went for a second shot and eventually I figured out the technique to eat without dropping a single rice grain.
"I'll see you guys there, yeah?" Ayman spoke and a chorus of yeahs and okay's were heard from us as we waved him off and piled into two cars. Ayman was going to be taking his family to the masjid with him and so we left earlier.
Ayman's house wasn't far from the masjid and in about ten minutes we had arrived. All going into the ablution bathroom to have wudu. It was quiet around since it was still a bit early but one by one cars began to pull into the parking lot and it got more crowded closer to adhan time.
"Bilal, recite to us." One of the guys said as we walked up to the first row and sat in a group, waiting for the adhan. He shook his head dismissively, but after a few chants of pressure, he sighed and groaned, standing up and taking the imam's microphone off the stand and setting it so it was only heard through one speaker in the masjid and not echoing. Abdul Aziz az Zahrani
He cleared his throat and began reciting surah al hujurat, his voice so calm. His pronunciation was perfect and I couldn't help but lean my back against the wall and put my head back, closing my eyes and listening to him. I stood still, listening to him along with everyone else, feeling peace and serenity surrounding me.
The words of Allah always managed to have the greatest effect on me. Not to mention Bilal had the most soothing recitation of everyone in our group. It took less than ten minutes for him to complete the Surah and everyone thanked him. Allahumma barik, barakallahu feek, JazakhAllahu khayr and mashaaAllah being heard mumbling around the masjid, not only from our group but everyone else who was sitting listening to him also.
He cleared his throat and smiled at everyone, thanking them with words under his breath as he stood up and put the microphone back where he got it from and changed the settings back to normal for the imam. Two minutes later the mu'adhdhin turned on the speakers and the adhan was recited as everyone lined up in rows to pray salah.
I still didn't know all the du'a and I only knew two surat at the moment, not including fatiha, which was duha and ikhlas, but everyone had told me that fatiha was the only fard (obligatory) recitation required and so for now I did what I could and I knew Allah knew how much I was trying. He knew my intentions and He knew that I was slowly memorizing new Surat also.
The whole of 'isha took about half an hour and after doing tasbeeh everyone split up. I walked out with the group of guys and after saying goodbye to them since all of their dads were now here with their cars. I walked to my own car and saw the book on the dashboard that I was meaning to return. I took it, walking back into the, now fairly empty, masjid to put it back where I had gotten it from last week.
After doing so, I walked back out, ready to go home, but as I was putting on my shoes in the doorway, I saw her. Again. It was crazy how my eyes could pick her out from all the other women wearing niqab. Her eyes sparkled, the moonlight reflecting on them as she walked slowly towards the car park.
"A'ishah!" Someone called out and she stopped her movements, turning around to look at the voice. I couldn't hear what she had said but the other girl was talking louder than her.
A'ishah. Her name. My heart was pounding. I repeated it in my head with a wide smile on my face that I didn't even realize was there before snapping back into reality when the other girl spoke again.
"You forgot your tafsir class notebook." She told her and I watched as A'ishah took it from the girl's hands.
"Ameen, wa iyyaki." She said and I assumed A'ishah had said JazakAllahu khayr. They quickly shared a hug before the girl turned back and walked towards the women's entrance side again while she, who I now knew was named A'ishah, continued her path towards the car park.
"Ameen, wa iyyaki." She said and I assumed A'ishah had said JazakAllahu khayr. They quickly shared a hug before the girl turned back and walked towards the women's entrance side again while she, who I now knew was named A'ishah, continued her path towards the car park.
I shook my head and lowered my gaze finally, trying to calm my erratic breathing, realizing that I had been staring for the whole time. Kneeling down, I tied my laces and put on my other shoe tying those laces too. When I stood back up, she was nowhere to be seen. I walked to my car and got in, starting it and beginning the journey home with my lip between my teeth trying to prevent myself from smiling for no damn reason. The whole time one word, one name ran through my mind constantly. A'ishah.