My own personal pandemonium.

I forgot how to write.

Today, after a many months, I remember the tip toe down the stairs in darkness to pen down my theorization. Bordered with haram lines, there was this ecstasy that flew in me at the thought of writing my mayhem. It is long gone now; not writing became the habit.

Life is an irony master. Time shall prove you wrong the things that you so really believed. She, The Diary Addict was once a naked truth back in high school; every January first marked her friends shelling out thick paged books, that got her running around getting her friends sign it at the back cover.  Words took into life so easily those days; it was not a hard work. It was my picnic, my happy place. 'The Diary of a Young Girl' which was once a spur, is now a book marked thought that drew a blank.

Since then, her friends list were filtered for good, priorities changed, relationships made- the silly lad has become the woman and has a bun in the oven already, wa lillaahil hamd!

The Petrichor that I felt two Novemebers back is snoring its breath out happily at 1 : 53 am of this Thursday. I mean, life has been good to the one who is talking to you.

So even though the first statement is true, it's quoted with the paint of voice- of contentment and no regrets.

Optimism.

You see different figureheads dime a dozen. Some are believed to be your kinsperson, some colleagues. Fancy is your ripeness if you call everyone to be on your threshold of understanding, implementing and reacting to the world's stimuli.

For instance, you might be a beach person. The thud of the wind against your cheeks might be a reason for you to be euphoric. Nevertheless, the situation you're in might not be that beach loving - your husband might be a bed person (xD), or your in laws might not be so elegant with your running around being on family way. Or perhaps you've pushed out kids that needs to be buckled up. Or any stupid reasons Ya!

Bottom line, yes, you love the beach, the wind and the chuk chuk of the train - this might be a naked truth, but not always you'll be in a locus to irrigate your itching.

Sometimes that craving has to be forgotten, sometimes you can't feel remorse over the couple finding beach visits easy, sometimes you need to count your blessings and direct your location to past beach memories. Or better, future beach visits with a good opportune.

Or perhaps, just go get yourself a good water melon juice and find your happiness in it.

🌼فصبر جميل🌼

Ill - suited.

I would like to be schooled about this somersaulted tale of sliding up and down the mood graph. Tell me, do you as well, when a sad thing hits you, replay ALL the remorseful small events and turn it to a HUGE siege and let the eyes do the sobbing and heart, its aching?

Or could it be my HCG?
There was literally no need for a show last night. Bint Abdul Latheef kept saying "Qadar Allah", "would be okay!" but I couldn't see the three hunger faces forced to swallow down something they despised. It all went up to questioning my ability to raise up a human being- I mean, does this happen to everybody?

Or is it a girl thingy?

Literally, I'm caught with this disease as long as I remember. At some point, it aids in my better-yourself-honey sentiment yes- there has been much decisions made through this emotional breakdown; not pursuing for masters, choosing to not work in clinics, clearing my friend list, and the demands that I was hunting on in a spouse- would be to name a few. Major decisions indeed, glory to Allah, the Mighty and Majestic. I can't pooh - pooh though at the biological trauma it puts me through- sometimes it could even mean 60*60*60 seconds of wailing. The slideshow begins so elegantly, that I really don't need a "action, cut" to joggle from one memory to another.

Two incidents- I would like to sketch them two here so that next time I strife through this, I can come back to this journal to halt it, Allah willing.



Hostel terrace. Tanthas room. My third year bedside.

Knowing myself and the things that I have done and felt in those rusty four years, I grew conscious of my future plans. I kept wondering if I will ever have a closure. Things were so uncertain back then- it still is - that a moment of retrospection would catch me off guard. I had let myself weep and ask My Rabb for the best. The decisions that I have made before was in His disobedience but already, there were many taken to counter claim them- still, there was this fear, always, what if I of the losers? What if none finds me to be a good woman? What if I end up with a forty some guy, who struts at each mistakes of mine?

What if I die and could never make up to my sins?




Night before Nikkah.

That pretty washroom-me was fagged with worries. In some hours, I will be the companion of a stranger who had tried his level best to keep his social media accounts- blunt. I mean, l.i.t.e.r.a.l.l..y I had no idea of this handsome dude who got floored by the proposal. I had NO IDEA though the experience wasn't mutual. Had even had some of my comments by hearted, gawd!

So there was this me, imaging him to be a ferocious man and me a pauper. Then there was this me raising my voice and the counter being so forgiving. Then there is this me being sloppy in the kitchen and in my pajamas. I mean- the reasons are created as the ranting goes on. Kinda like- collecting the reasons to cry. Blotched, head aching, I had an uneasy sleep. Hours before the event, episode two began.

The night that followed was even worse. I saw him first hand as my own and it so heartbreaking to find all my stupid rants to be a joke. The week that followed were all pink pink, all praise is to Allah, the Lord of the worlds.




To summarize

• You need not have any reasons for having a mood swing.
• Even when you visualize the worst possible outcome, your endings can be beautiful. Visualize the worse so that the happiness can be yours : D
• Never despair in the Mercy of Allah
• Cover up your sins with good deeds.
• You can be selfless at times, but never lose your self esteem. You are capable and is here to fulfill a purpose- strive for that.
• The third point is SO IMPORTANT that I'm quoting it again,

Never depair in the Mercy Of Allah

Islamic Tarbiya that is facing the trash can.

I intend yes to make this long for my pain in regards to the topic is an injury understood not.

Oh yes, I'm the one whom you saw evolving. Kindly don't presume though I'm anti education, beloved. In an attempt to exemplify the double standard which a normal parent go through, I may go from 0 to 9 on the scale of satire. May be not satire in actuality; a process of peeling out the skin from you and keeping you gob smacked with the normative in our place; maybe.  

Year one. The Umma and Uppa has gone towards Mummy - Daddy since long. (Come Idrees, he will scream Ummi wa Abi, In Sha Allah! May Allah grant us Tawfeeq).

Year three. Your cup cake will have a graduation on all the nursery rhymes and won the caliber on how to browse the cartoon on Youtube and would have mastered the English alphabets. If you are visiting a toddler, you naturally ask them, "Do you know Twinkle Twinkle Little Star or Chubby Cheeeeks?!! Laudation if she could make it, Ma Sha Allah! The aunties will confront the parents with a "aint she ready for KG classes" worries and "you know Mr His son joined already" terrorizing. The guest would leave the parents on insomnia.

High school he survived. The Muslim named parents are very proud of his tenth scores. They chose that school because it had a reputation- fantastic technology and kept an insist on carrying an IPad to make notes. This is normal, my child needs that, I say.

Twelfth public exams result day, none of the family sleeps. Results release at whatever hour in the clock, they are apprehensive of their pet's performance on this Dunya based exam. It is important- how will he get into a good college otherwise??!

MBBS, B-TECH and other high donation choices are kept before the child. You choose beta! This is your decision, but be careful aah??! No drinking and girls beta! They pack from home, with their phones as their best friends- excited to be free from the four walls set by their family and an extended hostel curfew. AND a loaded Visa card.

In between some time, the parents did try to teach them the Arabic letters. They stutter still- classes got discontinued because the Ustaad raised fifty bucks per month, which is completely unnecessary as I know the Mosque Committee would give him a fixed deposit anyway! Not just five or ten, FIFTY! SUBHANALLAHH!

We have taught them the pillars of Islam and Eemaan and the names of the Prophet's parents. They do pray yes, Allah will forgive our mistakes as He is Ar Rahman ur Raheem, won't He?

His first home visit was a surprise though, but I guess woh toh chalega, because this is how college kids are right? Yes, we got a little conscious to see her phone engaged at midnight but we trust her really- she needed her MUMMY for everything and she would tell if there is anything happening in her life, won't she?

Teach them Tawheed? (Raises the index finger to the sky) La Ilaaha Illallah! Khalas!

Yes, I'm usually tired when I come back from work, so TV is my relaxation plus yes we go for family movie trip once in a month. Yes we know, its haram but that's how we can find comfort right?
Mummy is on whatsapp managing business, she made a huge turn over this year and we bought an X Box ALHMADULILLAH.

....and I'm sorry, but what is Tarbiya?