“Bismillahir rahmaanir raheem”
-in the name of Allah, The Most Gracious, The Most Merciful-
Ismail wasn’t himself… He nibbled silently on the scrumptious omelette that I prepared for him and once he was done with the last few drops of tea left in his mug.. He got up and went outside again..
The atmosphere was tense and annoying.. I felt like shaking him up and telling him to grow up and get a life.
The rest of the day was pretty much boring and insane..
The kids and I did all that we could to keep eachother entertained for the whole day so when dada finally returned late that afternoon, we were ever so glad…
We chat around with dada as he told us about all the people he visited…
“a young man, well.. He’s the son of a friend of mine..he was in a terrible accident just after he got married.. Its sad really… He lost both his hands in the accident. They had to have them amputated..but beti, if you see him, wallahi, you will cry.. What a man and he does everything for himself.. The man has no hands.. But he helps his wife to cook using his mouth and his feet to do what needs to be done… He makes wudhu using his feet… He performs all 5 salaah on time.. He even recites the quraan.. He opens it using his face and his nose to turn pages.. He struggles but doesn’t take assistance from anyone….” Dada related to us
I was moved…honestly and deeply touched…
Why is it that we as human beings always need a tragedy or to see someone suffering to appreciate our own lives…?
We have hands, legs, perfect fingers, perfect speech… 10 fingers and 10 toes.. Well basically, everything that we need and more, yet we don’t ever appreciate the bounties of Allah
Life is such unfortunately….
“Where’s ismail beti? Haven’t seen him since I came…” Dada asked, not meeting my gaze thankfully..
Atleast I didn’t feel guilty not talking the truth: “uhm…he’s laying down dada…”
Dada could always sense when things aren’t okay.. But he wouldn’t ever ask directly.. He’ll hint and wait for me to come out with it if I wanted to.. And if I didn’t say anything, he wouldn’t insist. He would leave it and move on..
He continued looking in his kitaab: “everything okay?”
“Jee… Everything okay…”
We sat in an awkward silence for a while.. I deliberated whether or not to ask for dadas advice.. Something told me to just leave sleeping dogs to lie.. The truth is, by tomorrow, ismail will be back to normal and so will our lives and then I’ll feel terrible about complaining to anyone.. Its not like he’s a compulsive abuser.. He’s just a little bipolar according to me.. The guy had it hard.. Okay, don’t whack me now, I know that’s no excuse.. But I honestly feel sorry for him..
Lots of love and discipline when you’re growing up is so important and I the end, if its not given, everyone suffers…
Fortunately I kept my mouth shut because a light tap on my shoulder brought me straight out of my reverie
I was shocked to see ismail standing next to me…
“Aww… Assalaamu alaykum bhai… How are you? I was just asking faaiza where you are…” Dada said with an ever so pleased look on his face
“Wa’alaykum salaam dada…I’m okay shukr… just feeling a little tired…”
They had a quick short chat about nothing important and when I gave ismail a glance he nodded his head signalling for me to follow him out of the room…
Oh no! I wonder what in the world could be hs problem now… I hope his not going to give me a whole lashing back after all I’d told him last night and this morning.. But for some strange reason, I wasn’t afraid.. Dada was around and that was comfort on its own…
Please check out the following blog… thedeadlyhiss.wordpress.com
Its not mine… Just a very close acquaintances..its a different and interesting story line though so enjoy