بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ
My mum found out about our blogs or more like our little sister let the cat out of the bag. This made my sister want to delete her blog even more. The main reason she wants to delete her blog is because she feels too many people know her identity so she’s finding it harder to write knowing people she knows are reading her blog. The fact that her blog character is bigger than her is not making it any easier. I’ve stopped her from deleting for now. I did my share now go do yours.
Im sorry but I’m not sure when I’ll post next as I have exam papers to set. I’ve only set 2/6 🙈 After that I’ll need to mark those papers so I’ll only start posting properly once all that is over. This post is almost double the size of my usual post anyway so it should make up for that. Sorry about the very long Authors note.
In memon Kaka, pronounced car-car is fathers brother and Kaki, pronounced car-key is Kaka’s wife. I know it does sound quite funny.
“Whoever believes in Allah and the Last Day, let him maintain the bonds of kinship.” (Bukhari)
“Rahim (family ties) is a word derived from Allah’s special quality, Ar Rahman (The Compassionate One). And Allah says: ‘I shall keep connection with him who maintains you and sever connection with him who severs you.’” (Bukhari)
It’s Saturday night so we’re expecting Basheera and them over. Every Saturday night we would either be at their house or they would be at our house. Daddy insisted on this because he really valued family ties. I loved it anyway because I get to see Basheera. I don’t have a sister so I guess she’ll have to do.
Hearing the door bell ring, I ran to answer it. After greeting Yusuf Kaka and Fathima Kaki and demanding a hug from my adorable cousin Yaseera, I grabbed Basheera’s hand pulling her into my room. After closing the door Basheera began untying her purda and hung it up behind the door next to mine.
“How’s the studying going?” I asked as I plonked myself onto the bed. Seeing the smile on her face I hit my forehead and exclaimed, “Wait, why am I even asking that? It’s English on Monday and your idea of studying for English is reading a novel.” I said rolling my eyes. Basheera stuck her tongue out at me before saying, “Speaking of reading, I have been reading quite a few kitabs on niqaab and did you know Khalid is not my Mahram and that I have to make purda from him? That’s why I left my purda on until we came into your room. This is going to be so hard. I mean, I practically live here.”
“I was a bit hesitant on this and felt that once I get used to it then I’ll start making from our cousins but I heard someone say that, ‘Although it’s hard in the beginning, it’s much better to start wearing niqaab properly with everyone from the time you start because it’s much harder to start making from those people later on and most of the time the later on doesn’t come’. I also heard somewhere that when a non mahram looks at you, he is not the only one getting the sin but you get sin also for allowing him and giving him the opportunity to look at you because you don’t wear niqaab. We have each other for support also so Insha Allah it won’t be so bad.”
Basheera said, “The worst is going to be when we all get together for the holidays by dadi’s house. It’s going to be so hard to make purda from them when we will be living under the same roof. This holiday is going to be really awkward but I guess this will be the worst and it will only get better and easier from there.”
“Khawla, Basheera, where are y’all,” I heard Khalid calling, followed by the sound of footsteps coming towards our room. He can’t come here. Basheera doesn’t have her purda on. “No! You can’t come inside. Purda!” I screamed diving for the door. I quickly locked it before grabbing a purda from behind the door and throwing it to Basheera.
Khalid began banging on the door asking,”Why can’t I come inside. I know you up to something. Come on, open the door. Purda? Whose here? No sane person is going to come here at this time of the night. You just making up stories. Open the door.” Seeing that Basheera had her niqaab on, I opened the door quarter way before telling Khalid, “Basheera wears niqaab you know. Yes, she even wears it from you. We not small any more and you’re not her mahram so yes she makes even from you.” “Uh, okay, they want to go home so they calling Basheera.” Khalid said while backing away with a very baffled look on his face that had me in stitches.
I closed the door and turned towards Basheera but to my amusement found her untying the niqaab and then sniffing it. “This is not mine. It smells like you so it’s probably yours.” Basheera said giving me the purda before taking every purda from the door and sniffing it. “Are you trying to say I stink?” I said pretending to be upset. “Stop acting dramatic. Everyone has their own distinct smell but obviously you can’t smell yourself so my purda to me won’t have any smell but to you it will smell like me.” I laughed at how silly she sounded but I understood what she was trying to say. Its true to yourself you have no smell to someone else you have a smell that is distinctly you. “We need to mark our niqaabs. We can either mark it with a metallic marker or we can mark it by embroidering our initials. That way it won’t get so mixed up.” I said.
“Basheera,” We heard her parents screaming. “Assalaamu Alaikum, see you Monday,” Basheera said, before rushing outside where her parents were waiting and calling for her yet again.