Dear World,
There is a part of me that feels blessed and forgiving; but then, there’s also a part of me that feels betrayed and cruel. All of these feelings feel my own yet so alien.
A lot happens when my mind is about to sleep.
I keep wondering about
أَُكِئَلو ُ م هاَوْأَم ُ راَّنلا اَِبِ او ناَك َُنو بِسْكَي
“(as for) those, their abode is the fire because of what they earned”
Fajr prayer does not matter now; it will matter tomorrow. Right now, you are extremely tired and you can’t even stand, let alone
#ShortStories#Fiction
That time, Majid and I used to lie on the floor with the worn out mattress that we bought from one of his friends who had left the country. We would wake up in the morning our backs aching in our little tiny room that had the kitchen counter an arm away from where we slept. We would constantly complain about the farting smells that seemed endless in our tiny little house. I never realized it at that time, but we were making our own little beautiful memories.
We had no TV, laptop or smartphones. We couldn’t afford it. I used to write him letters and ask one of the boys we know in the compound to rush the letter
Seconds and hours passed by,
I counted every single minute,
It felt like the clock kept ticking,
Asking me to haste.
I counted the time that I woke up,
The time I slept,
The time I ate,
Time was running. It seemed.
Where was it running to?
Hunger for love.
Hunger for people.
Hunger for food.
Hunger for trust.
Hunger for understanding.
There is always some kind of hunger lurking around our lives.
There will come a day,
Where you will have
I am 20 years old, and I had recently started wearing the Niqab.
I understand that I might be wearing it for the wrong reasons. The bulk of women I know wear it out of their faith. You could say that I would be wearing it out of faith as well, but not out of fear; out of understanding God has made men and women different.
Some could say that it’s for selfish reasons.
However, I am extremely thankful and grateful for the fact that my religion gave me the freedom to cover myself. That it is a blessing when a woman covers herself.
It isn’t appreciated by most of the people in the modern Muslim communities, nor by some of my family members; afraid that I am becoming an extremist. Some would sneer and smirk, telling me that this phase wouldn’t last long. That being ‘religious’ was much harder than most youngsters thought these days. They told me that I would not last, just like many others before me.
Didn’t they realize?
This story is about the little brown girl
Who never realized how beautiful her golden skin was.
She lived her life believing,
Every single day,
That she would never be defined as beauty
She never thought to look carefully, and deeply at every inch of herself
At every single speck on her skin
At every shade of color, that made her who she was
She could not bother
Society was always right
They had labeled her skin as
I have learned; that happiness isn’t an individual emotion.
Happiness comes with attachments.
Happiness is dependent.
It was a lost key.
That no one seemed to realize that they needed for all those unanswered questions.
The lost belief and faith
