''You are beautiful"- a blessing or a test?

The door opens loudly, I hear gentle footsteps  and everyone waiting for her -shout out of excitement- “Shanzay, Shanzay, Shanzay’’, because babies are cute, irresistible to hug and a reason to smile for us humankind. I push my brother sideways and block the route for my sister, to be the first one to hold and cuddle my niece. The moment I do that, I scrutinize her pinkish white complexion, bewildered by her facial expressions full of pride, because she can clearly see with her gorgeously lightening bright blue eyes that even “Ami and Abu’’ (her grandparents) are panicking in the line to get hold of her, and her blonde silky curled up hair is becoming a mess because three siblings have fought enough by now to carry and kiss their niece on the cheeks, out of natural sheer love they have for their universally beautiful baby doll. During her mother’s short stay, all she does in forty eight hours is to screech and shrug away the attention she deserves, because she is nevertheless a beautiful baby. People express their love for her abundantly, and she shrugs off with confident expressions and she should, however, it pricks me, it bothers me, it gets to my nerves, when some people tell her, that she is like her “Laila” Khala. Neither do I take that as a compliment, nor does it add to my pride or ego, for some astounding facts which have played a significant role in what I have become today.

If she is me, life will be a bed of roses for her till she reaches her teenage. She will be definitely chosen for the role of a princess or a queen for her annual day, and probably stage a whole drama on vampires because of her blue eyes, and sometimes recognized as the best Halloween character because her white complexion can be quite horrifying when applied a dangerously deep hot red lipstick on her pink lips and amazing the audience with the perfect look. Teachers will be praising her as the cutest student of the class and grabbing her by the cheeks so much so that her veins start showing their bluish deoxygenated blood vessels on her white face. Not until she reaches the age of thirteen, when her lovers would start becoming few and despisers more in number. Yes, she is taking a class group picture with her mates, when girls start pushing her here and there, not because she is very beautiful and they would love to stand with her, but because they say, ‘’oh god, her fair complexion ruins the whole picture, and pity on the person who stands next to her, she looks so dark with this gori’’. Wait a second, where are the other gori’s of the class? Is she the only beautiful person in the class? Obviously not. Those so called beautiful girls will be in some corner of the school, taking pictures of themselves with their cameras, which are going to be sent to their boyfriends in a while, because they are so beautiful, and they are high in demand, yes, they are the hot chicks of the town. They are wanted for their beautiful eyes and  glowing skins. Only if they would know they are objects of lust and not something which is sincerely desirable by a boy. After a few years, she will start going to the university. Most of the girls will tell her during the first meeting that she is beautiful and probably never talk to her again unless they need to. Guys will think she has attitude because she thinks she is beautiful, as if they would possess some technology which would process her mind, overseeing the nail paints and make up of other girls, because for some reason average looking people are definitely more beautiful from the inside, always, really? After getting a little adjusted there, and a lonely stroller most of the time, she will pass by two benches. Her view will be entertained by a beautiful girl sitting with her guy on one bench and an average looking girl with her boyfriend on another bench. Both of them will be equally enjoying themselves. After three months, she will pass by the same view of two benches. The couple on the second bench would look as normal as before, but the beautiful girl on the first bench will keep looking at them with envious eyes.  She will keep walking forward, when she will hear rumors on her way that the beautiful girl got dumped by her guy because her character was weak. Since she is beautiful, how can she be a clean soul? Whereas the other brother on the second bench, has officially gotten engaged to the girl who was average looking, after all, he has not engaged her looks; he always used to say he will marry a beautiful mind and not a beautiful girl, and there he is, with his soul mate. She will keep walking towards her class, wondering if a beautiful girl can have a beautiful mind too, or is it really impossible? After reaching her class, people who would be engaged in deep jolly conversations, would stop talking to each other for a second, silence would conquer the room, and people will stare strangely towards her, passing sly smiles at her sweet gestures. The teacher would enter the class, with checked papers in his hands. She might have topped her exam-thanking God for rewarding her for her hard work and after a few days she might get to listen to rumors like she scored those marks because that teacher has a secret crush on her, or she topped the presentation not because of her good presentation skills, but because her body flaunted the listener of the presentation. Only God would know her state of mind then.  And she will never tell her parents, because their proud faces owing to her excellent results would not deserve to hear something as low of what she is going through.

The world will shatter her, no matter if she is beautifully inside out, or only from the outside. Even the girl who is universally beautiful only on the outside, have been made ugly from the inside, because she has been scared and marred by the desperate men out there. Folks! Beautiful people have feelings too. You have no right to spread rumor about a girl if she is beautiful. Likewise, a beautiful girl has brains too. She is not dating her teacher if she is topping his subject. A beautiful girl deserves equal honor as an average looking girl. There is a Pashto quote quite famous, ‘’Toro  khandeledi, speeno jareledi’’.. The dark ones have smiled and the fair ones have cried. I believe all my nieces and all those girls going through similar experiences shall read this one day. And my message to them is never to crush their self esteem or sell themselves short because of the insecurities of other people. The women who are truly beautiful from the inside, will come to you in the form of your close friends and they would be such strong girls that they would have nothing to be insecure about you, and in case of men, he will make you his life partner if God has made him worthy enough to marry a lucky girl like you, and make you even more beautiful for the sake of God. I have faced immense rejection from both men and women in my life, because of many reasons, but my spiritual journey towards God have made me found beauty in my heart. And remember, that God wants to make you as beautiful from the inside just like you are from the outside, so do not stumble on your lows, and He will grant you with more beauty, in the form of words, actions, looks, material and last but not the least, in the shape of an enlightened soul. Stay beautiful and be patient.

How I actually became a Muslim?

This script is written in reply to a message I received from my senior a week back. I am a sinner. I spread His message and I continue to sin. May Allah really make me a very strong and firm believer.  Ameen.

‘’I idealise you because you are so close to religion at such a young age. This blessing Allah does not bestow upon everyone. You are chosen by Him. Because He does not guide anyone unless you ask Him for guidance. I am very proud of you.’’

Just like every other Muslim, my journey with Islam began on the day when I was born to the most beautiful parents and inherited my religion. Not only did I get lucky with my religion being named Islam on my birth certificate, but I had also performed Umrah three times with my family by the time I was just eight.  One of the rituals that I enjoyed during performing Umrah used to be wearing a scarf on my head, because I somehow looked like my elder sisters who were my ideals then, and still are; this was followed up by touching the Kaaba which used to be a big mission without any vision- as I was a child; the last one was to pray occasionally and enjoy the steps of Namaz just because I used to be fascinated by the Imam’s voice whilst he used to lead the prayer.

The voice of the Imam makes me jump back to the day I took birth. Although I am sure that I would have been one of the cutest babies ever born-my pictures be the best proof, I was not that a pleasant news for my parents, as I was born with Cleft Palate due to which I could not consume my mother’s milk and my father had to struggle all night with his friend finding a suitable bottle feeder for me so that I can drink milk properly. However, I kind of made things complicated for myself. I was hardly a year when the only possible way to feed me milk was the view of a bird fluttering in the sky, for which I was taken to the balcony every day. In the process of searching for birds, my focus shifted to the sound of Azaan, so much so that the voice had to be recorded in a cassette tape for the sake of feeding milk to me. I grew up to be a very cranky child, so much so that my Uncle used to make me cry by saying that you are an “Angraiz” and do not belong to us and your mother left you at our doorstep and left for America.

Years passed by, and when the time to learn the Quran came, my parents made me sit with a friendly and fatherly Qaari Sahaab for three years who had gained good religious education from India. He is one of the wholehearted and best teachers who have taught me, and I realize that now. He made me learn all 99 names of Allah which I forgot over time. He made me finish the Holy Quran in a good Arabic accent which I did not value for years. He made me learn all the powerful Duas which I forgot day by day. He narrated several stories of the Quran which now I struggle to learn from YouTube, and every time he used to begin with a new one, I remember how I and my younger sister used to tell him that we only enjoy Yajuj Majuj, so it used to be followed by that one again. At that time, I used to be a bit disobedient and brought him on the verge of scolding me till I started feeling guilty and pour down tears. If life had a reverse button, my Qaari Sahaab would have been my best friend then.

Life was fun till I turned 13. I always wanted to stand first in the class- a position holder at least. When I first migrated to Pakistan, I took admission in a pure Pakistani board school. Oh! I still cannot forget how much I looked down upon my fellows because they did not know how to speak in English as I could. I hardly made three friends who could speak in English with me and used the rest for Urdu and Islamiyat lessons. After a year, I changed my school which was Cambridge system, and now I was in a better position to compete with all the students in the class. Despite being the most hardworking student in the class, I stood 4^th or 5^th, the most alluring fact of which is that I never scored high in English. I still have a “C” on my CIE report card. Even my best friends used to ponder over my grades. I tried my best and my last resort used to be “Wazifas”- pray 5 times a day, pray nafals, read this Surah ten times and call out Allah 313 times or whatsoever. This is how I was a Muslim. And it never helped my grades or put blessings in my hard work.

I ended up taking 60% marks in my Intermediate education, and became a student of Management Studies where I topped my batch in the first semester, despite the fact that I scored a “D” in Islamic Studies which I had to repeat before my graduation, but I never cared since I was proud to be a topper. I shifted to a better city in my second year of bachelors where I received more praises from my teachers and my classmates used to appreciate me for not looking like I come from a backward city in Pakistan. I was assigned numerous leadership roles and it boosted my confidence level. During that time, my sister and brother in law paid a visit to see us and they were blessed with a beautiful baby doll in those days. After a couple of days, my sister’s husband left and I became her room-mate for almost a month, due to which I had to listen to the Naats by Junaid Jamshed without which it was impossible for my niece to sleep. At first I was pretty annoyed at my brother and sister for making her habits so silly, but that was my first step to becoming a wholehearted Muslim. The words of those Naats struck my brain with every passing day and my heart started melting for the Love of Allah. I became a fan of Junaid Jamshed and music was no more enjoyable for me, I was still a fan of songs though.

Time slipped by and my second year was about to end, when I badly got stuck in a project and my senior lent me a helping hand. We became good friends and called me a little sister. One day, I was sitting with him in the campus and he took out his iPhone 3gs from his pocket, opened the app which read the English translation of the Holy Quran and I told him how impressive it was that somebody has time to read the translation of the Quran. He replied to me that it was nothing, just a translation, and how much he wished he could recite the Quran in Arabic since he was born in the UK. He talked about the problems he faced in life and beautifully quoted an Ayah (verse) which described his situation and helped him miraculously. I started envying him. I wanted to read the Quran too and this was a task to be completed in the Summer Break. I along with my younger sisters, went to the Liberty Books, and asked them to contribute equally to the English translation, since they might need to read it too, and I was not so close to Allah and His book that I would pay the full price. They contributed their share without quarrelling much and I got done with my task of giving it a read. But that was not the end, just a beginning. I was not enough for some reason and I wanted more of it. I chose to read the Urdu Tafseer and I did not mind Urdu for the first time, because I really wanted to understand the explanation. After campus re-opened, I had dyed my hair golden and girls appreciated me. But my friend bluntly told me that I looked way decent when I first came from my city and had a dupatta over my head. I started covering it and took it off when I came back to my city after a few months.

I had become way better than my classmates. I was a cut above all my seniors and juniors. I could never have behaved so arrogantly as I did till I reached my final year. During the last vacations that I got from my business school, my cousin had offered me to join some classes at Al Huda International near my house. I accepted the offer and I loved the experience of learning the Quran in detail by my professional teachers. By the end of my last semester, I took a proper Hijab covering my head strictly, but that never took away the arrogance from my heart though.

After my graduation, I stayed home for almost a year. I feel no shame in admitting that I slipped like never before during this duration. I got drowned into filthy acts and a phase came when I forgot Allah. And now after going through several emotional jolts and turning back to Him, I wondered as to where my prayers in the last Ramadan went since I lost my values right after that. It did not take a moment for me to click that all that phase that I went through has actually made me a stronger believer. Moreover, one thing I am sure of is that I have nothing to be arrogant of anymore. I am a sinner who repents. I have been called a hypocrite in the past and what not, but the first step to seeking guidance is that you realize the need for guidance. We often deceive ourselves by blaming the environment and culture for losing our spirituality, and the rise of the West and what not. But all those excuses get multiplied by zero when we get to listen to scholars like Nouman Ali Khan and Mufti Menk. The reason why they are being so hardworking and outstanding in their efforts is to counter all the challenges which make it difficult to practice the religion but their advices have really put a big cross on all our excuses.

Till now, I used to worry not to speak about Islam much since I might look like a hypocrite or a person who is showing off with her religious knowledge. But spreading good word is our responsibility as Muslims and we all should do it without any reservation. Yes, I am a sinner and I have slipped many times, but I will continue to repent and please Him. I am an ordinary Muslim who has missed Fajr even today. May Allah accept the good from me and all of you. Ameen.

Allah says:

§  (Iblees (Satan)) said: "O my Lord! Because you misled me, I shall indeed adorn the path of error for them (mankind) on the earth, and I shall mislead them all.

§  "Except Your chosen, (guided) slaves among them" (Quran, al-Hijr: 39 – 40).

Change, Change, Change!!!!

When I was a child, the word change for me was limited to changing into clothes, wearing a white fancy frock was forever a bliss to me. Over time, change was a concept I learned whilst studying the forms of matter; when solid melted into liquid, and liquid boiled into gas, the trickiest of all was when solid directly sublimed into a gas. Time passed by, and my world revolved around change. Change your grades, change your handwriting, change your ambitions, change your choices, change your laptop, change your phone, change your habits, change your friends, change your thinking, change your priorities, overall please change yourself because this world around you is changing and you have to fit in this world; we know we have to change into soil definitely but this whole cycle of change should conquer myself and all of us; from S5 to S6, from Nadia Hussain to Shahid Afridi, and we are waiting to wear a brand launched by Reham Khan as well in the near future, admit it or not. However, in this rapidly changing game the world is going through, I am bewildered with the one and only thought that promises not to change at all. The thought that the Holy Quran is not meant to change and it will never change. And you will never change unless you resonate your thinking with this Divine Book. You will come out of the paradigm of change and only stability will conquer you only if you seriously beg for this change to come into you. You have to plead to Him and you have to cry in the nights only for Him to experience this change. Finally, when you go through this change, you will realize it is not about change in the first place, it is only about Him. The biggest threat to change is expectations and the biggest hope to fulfill your expectations comes from the people around you. It is when you vest your hopes into the creation when you acquire the ropes of change. But always remember, expecting from others is like expecting the world to change for you, and you will only change yourself in this process, creating a dissonance between your inside and out, questioning the world what is it up to. The truest form of change is purely divine in nature. Change is something you will experience all alone. It is going to come from the extremes of emptiness inside of you. It is going to come when you are totally embarrassed of all kinds of changes you have embraced all your life. It is through this change when you will actually see the blessings in disguise, and a big challenging test in your most beautiful blessings. Change is a painful process to find the unchangeable, and once you go through it, you would be overwhelmed with tears of joy.

Your loss, my bliss..

Alas, it was this date, when our slaughter was tipped off,
Just a few painful cries and then we flew off.
You be all doom and gloom with the digit sixteen,
For us it is a cut above the pleasure of a teen.
Oh mother, do not take on the chin when IK forgot your bleeding grim,
There's nowt so queer as folk when it comes to pleasing the whim.
Oh sister, do not weep those billion tears that would overflow a bucket,
Oh sister, your brother is number one with a bullet.
Oh father, it sticks in your craw when you miss me at an extreme,
Oh brother, day in day out, I secretly see your hissing steam.
Oh nation, no more black days is a bridge too far,
The end all- be all for you, till your last hour.

I am vulnerable because I am special..

I feel no shame in expressing that I have been grown up in an era where your beauty is defined by the number of likes you get on Facebook, or my thoughts are precious if they are tweeted and shared over and over again by friends, acquintances and strangers; where speaking and writing good English is a tool to be an outlier amidst highly illiterate and low quality educated masses and you can easily exploit it by a mere power of words and seem to be genuine if you get time to jott down your beautiful words-the bottom line of which is to just keep boasting without "walking the talk". I feel no shame in admitting that I have never walked my talk in so many branches of my life because I was enjoying some illusions which were and never will be mine. If I look good, "thankyou" to the legacy of my family which is beautiful from multiple generations. If I can speak with a powerful vocabulary and impressive fluency, "thankyou" to the budget driven high quality education granted to me by parents which is a Mercy in a country like Pakistan.
The astounding idea here is that "Where am I?" I am not blaming myself here. I'm just talking about the great gifts Allah bestowed me with- I didn't become special but I was born special. Unfortunately, we all go through lows in our daily lives. We all feel the fear of being unwanted and unloved which ultimately leads to anger. And so many people become the victims of our rage- which comes from the dissatisfaction of the pure beauty that lies within us. So why do we get angry in the first place? Because if a person who is born special like me deserves no bad treatment- my self image makes me angry, overseeing the fact that if I'm born so special then why is the feeling of rage instilled inside of me? The answer is not to allow other people walk over you, it is about questioning your own insecurities. Your strengths are not the liabilities of another person. In fact, your strengths are shadowed by your own thoughts and quest for Perfectionism- you think you are not enough but you are enough and it makes you no less vulnerable. You have to be vulnerable in order to grow your spirits and self-confidence. You keep perfecting yourself but actually you are numbing yourself. You lack wholeheartedness and you can never be wholehearted unless you are self-compassionate and tender towards yourself. You can never be pleased with others if you are not pleased with yourself. And that doesn't mean you are shielding yourself from the potential scars which wound you- because vulnerability is to show up without any shame of being scoffed at or called a loser- and shame derives its power from being unspeakable and risk averse; extracting the joy out of everything you do.So, often when we say not to explode our anger onto others and practice self compassion- so; would the anger diffuse into the air like a perfumed scent, getting itself rescued from the destiny of being the killer of another person's pride who did not deserve it in the first place? The answer to it is certainly a NO. Anger is still there and would have aggravated further had it taken the shape of a monstrous attack on anyone out of the blue. Whenever we are angry, we are angry with our blessings which is a result of lack of gratitude and the hunger of perfectionism.  And when we tend to combat our insecurities in the quest if being a perfectionist with the superficial tools and tactics or becoming a workaholic,  it least helps, in fact it makes things worse. The only question you need to ask sincerely is if this person was not around,  who would have been the victim? Maybe you were the victim of your own anger. But you cannot be the victim and the monster both? Well, nevertheless you are the victim and the monster is your haunted past and if you do not have the courage to re-visit it, it means you are deceiving yourself. You have to absorb into the darkness of your past and resolve it- mostly by engraving the positivity from it.
So coming back to art of hiding our insecurities behind the beautiful curtains we tend to hang across our true images, if I am getting a minimum of 100 likes on my profile picture or a million praises for my accomplishments, that's not going to be a symbol of my self worth. My self worth would only lie in being the urge to be vulnerable to follow my dreams- to do what I love and aspire to; cracking some really hard nuts on the way. And if you are not strong enough to embrace vulnerability,  then you are in the sea of blaming and throwing tantrums at others by holding the god gifted illusions you were born with and using them as a weapon to blame others only. To love yourself, you need to seek vulnerability and seek responsibility for yourself. Show up yourself not to be just appreciated, accepted and pampered by others but to be nourished by your own strengths and be seen as someone who fights with great courage. Your own strengths make you stronger only when you make them vulnerable- and vulnerability has its own limits and boundaries too which can align with our internal spiritual values; only exception is that the boundaries are not derived from Shame. It is not about what I should know about myself or you should know about me. It is about who actually I am and how strongly I keep nourishing myself by making my powers vulnerable- it's fun and joyful- keeps you engaged to the world. Remember,  you told God you were powerful enough to face the challenges of life to be a human, so take use of your strengths which you see as imperfections,  and fight the battle of Life by becoming vulnerable. You will see too much darkness on the way. But the more you combat the Darkness with your enlightened spirits, the more authentic you need to become. Alas, when you numb the darkness, you numb the Light. 
The best recipe is to acknowledge that the perfect being on this planet was Holy Prophet PBUH and he did not seek perfection by using social media or pursuing a destination which was extraordinary, -e never aspired for any shield of armour, he embraced the Light by being vulnerable authentically even before Prophethood came to him. It is not because he did not have those facilities, but because these routes are not required for perfectionism- what we do is just numb ourselves. Alas, when you numb the darkness,  you numb the Light.
Inspired by the teachings of Brene Brown and Harriet Lerner.

The Art of Giving and Receiving

Never will you attain the good [reward] until you spend [in the way of Allah ] from that which you love. (Ayat 92

In order to achieve something, we need to give something. As Newton says' every action has a reaction'; and yet it has proven to be one of the most successful thoughts which have been taught so far- let's come across the wonderful policy of Allah. Even He gives us when we give in the way of Him.

Giving in His way literally doesn't mean to give money to a needy person or help a relative financially; to give in the way of Allah holds a vast meaning. Your smile is a charity to the world. Nobody is responsible for your bad mood. It is your own responsibilty to donate smiles to the creatures of Allah and make them feel special; for if you do not smile you abandon His way.
Allah honoured human beings as the' Ashraf-ul-Makhluqat'- meaning that He made the trees and animals inferior to us. And this certainly holds true keeping the fact in mind that plants do take in water from the land but they return it in the form of vapours which we inhale in. They produce fruits which we eat. So what is the purpose of plants? They are serving us. We are dependant upon them and they don't give us a chance to complain. They are dutiful towards Allah. They have no ego. Not gone astray like us.
Similarly, the formation of crude oil took place when the decomposed animals got dumped into the lava-inner crust of the earth. So animals have been serving remarkable benefits for us too.

If you notice Allah makes things happen in pairs; He made certain parts of plants dependant on each other to perform several functions akin to the physioligical functions of humans and animals. So when it comes to charity, He likes no less of acts which are done in pairs. One action complements another. If you are exchanging a smile with a person so do it with good words; it is not that you insult a person's dignity and cover it up with a smile. If you are donating a loaf of bread to the needy so make sure you do it with a glass of milk so that the poor can swallow it easily.
For Allah says in the Quran:

The charity of those who expend their wealth in the Way of Allah may be likened to a grain of corn, which produces seven ears and each ear yields a hundred grains. Likewise Allah develops manifold the charity of anyone He pleases, for He is All-Embracing, All-Wise. (Surah Baqarah 261)

He knows we are thankless..

Allah has bestowed so many blessings on us. He gave us feet to walk, hands to write and make numerous objects, eyes to see wonderful colours and taste buds to taste several natural fruits in different flavours. To some He gave beautiful eyes, some in shape and some in colour; to some He gave a fair skin with beauty and to some He gave a darker one with more protection from external air. Whilst He gave these countless blessings to us, He knows we are thankless, as illustrated below in His beautiful words:

And We have certainly established you upon the earth and made for you therein ways of livelihood. Little are you grateful. (7:10)

Thanklessness is deep rooted inside us. If it had been not, we would not be running after the Dunya and adapting the West. When we get sad, we tend to commit sins and indulge in activities which are against the Islamic Shariah. Although He keeps us warning again and again in the Book of Guidance, still we are thankless and very little do we remember His blessings.

Follow, [O mankind], what has been revealed to you from your Lord and do not follow other than Him any allies. Little do you remember. (7:3)