The eastern
horizon was streaked with heart melting shades of peach swirl and strawberry
ripple, heralding the rising of a gargantuan ball of gas burning at a
temperature of 15 million degrees centigrade – the sun. The perfect system of Allah
runs smoothly, without any delays and flaws. Sure enough, at its appointed
time, the sun peeked above the horizon, as if to check who is awake and who isn’t.
Within minutes the beautiful orange disc came into full view and began its
swift and steady climb in the sky – a climb it would have to continue doing
daily until the command of Allah came for it to rise in the west. Getting
brighter, more powerful, and more splendorous by the second, it sent forth its
warm and comforting rays, illuminating that part of the world which was just a
while ago draped with multiple layers of dense darkness. It was as if it had
sprinkled gold dust over the silvery ocean surface and deep green palm fronds. A
new sunrise means a new day, a new beam of hope, a new beginning, and another
golden opportunity to change.
The peaceful
and tranquil serenity was interrupted by resumed cries of agony. Safoorah was
in the final stages of labour – those moments in which a woman balances
precariously on the thin and delicate barrier separating life and death. Lying
on her bed, drenched in sweat, gasping in pain, she pressed tightly on her
husband Musa’s hand with her right hand, while holding on to the bed post with
her left. The expression on Musa’s face showed a mixture of worry, fear, and
sympathy as he silently begged Allah for ease and well-being for his wife and
baby. Allah, through His immense power and mercy, enabled the miracle of birth
to take place, and the midwife, an old bubbly lady, happily announced, “It’s a
boy, mashallah!” She carefully wrapped the baby in a shawl and placed it in
Musa’s outstretched hands. He lovingly cradled his son in his arms, tears of
relief trickling down his cheeks, as he whispered, “Subhanallah, mashallah,
alhamdulillah.” His eyes took in his bundle of joy with a gaze of marvel, as he
gently touched the soft and tiny hands designed by Allah to the minutest detail
of perfection. “Please bring him closer to me so that I can see him properly
and touch him,” Safoora managed to say in a feeble voice, weak from the
harrowing experience. Musa lowered the baby to her and she looked with
love-filled eyes at the fluffy marshmallow they had been so excitedly waiting
for. “I really want to name him Ilyas, what do you think, Safoorah?” Safoorah
looked up and smiled, “It’s a really beautiful name, mashallah.” Musa replied, “Inshallah
we have seven days to finalize, we can think over it. Let me finish the Adhaan
and Tahneek, you should get some rest.” He gave the Adhaan in the right ear and
the Iqamah in the left, preparing the newly born for the inevitable eventuality
of his Salatul Janazah. Such is the emphasis that is laid in the beautiful
Sunnah with regards to keeping death in focus at all times – begin the
preparations of death immediately after birth. After that, he proceeded to
fulfil the Sunnah of Tahneek. He opened a tin in which lay a date that had been
chewed by a great wali of Allah. The hope from Allah was that through the Barkat
in the date, He would grant the baby the ability to follow in the footsteps of
the Wali. Musa took a tiny piece from the outer layer which had become soft and
paste-like, and gently tried to push it into the baby’s mouth with his index
finger. The baby immediately started sucking on the sweet paste, and a smile
spread across his father’s face.
The happiness
of the moment was violently shattered when the door was flung open and Sheereen,
Musa’s elder sister, strode in. She caught Musa in the motion of trying to make
sure the date was properly inside the delicate mouth. “Oh, the baby is here,
you didn’t even inform me! And just what do you think you are doing by putting
dates in its mouth?” Sheereen exclaimed in a loud, shrill voice. “I haven’t informed
anyone, I wanted to finish the Adhaan and Tahneek first,” Musa replied softly
and hesitatingly.
Sheereen screamed, “Haven’t I told the two of
you not to do any such thing? How can you stuff dates into a new born baby?
Where are your brains?! Don’t you realise what harm that could cause the child?
And to make things worse, you are putting your dirty fingers in as well!
Someone needs to knock some sense into you. I think I should report you to the
authorities for child abuse and mistreatment!!”
Musa looked down at the floor and said softly,
with a tremor in his voice due to the fear that his sister always put him in, “Sheereen,
Tahneek is Sunnah, it is something that our beloved Nabi Sallallahu Alaihi Wasallam
used to do. The example that he left behind for us is perfect, every moment of
his life is perfect, his every action is perfect. It is not possible that there
can ever be any harm in something which he, Sallallahu Alaihi Wasallam, has encouraged
us to do. We cannot give preference to Western, secular teachings and research
over the illuminating words and actions of the Beloved of Allah Sallallahu Alaihi
Wasallam, who was the epitome of perfection in every way and form.”
Sheereen glared at her brother, “Don’t you dare
lecture me about Deen! I know our Deen very well, I was already performing the
five daily Salaah long before you were even born!” She then turned her
attention towards Safoorah, giving her a piercing, icy stare that made her
cringe. She tried to shrink beneath the covers, desperate to escape the searing
heat waves emanating from Sheereen. “Safoorah! Don’t be a weakling! We’ve all
gone through child birth, don’t pretend like you’ve gone through more, I know
you only want attention and sympathy. Sit up straight!”
Safoorah tried to pull herself up and grimaced
in pain. Shireen scoffed at her, continuing her tirade, “Just look at yourself,
you can’t take even a bit of pain! I told you, didn’t I, that you aren’t ready
to become a mother? You don’t have the toughness it takes to become a mother, you
are after all, nothing but an immature kid of nineteen years. And now you are
going to raise up this child with zero parenting skills, I can already see it
coming, you’ve already started by putting dates into the baby’s delicate
stomach. Anyways, it’s your life, destroy it if you want to. I’ve had enough of
you, the toxic people that you are, let me go back to humans who are a bit
normal. I might drop in sometime later to see what new antics you are up to.”
She tossed her head haughtily and marched off, slamming the door behind her.
Physically, mentally, and emotionally drained
and broken, Safoorah collapsed into tears.
