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Everything declines approaching its end. That is the natural way of the world. Not even a blessed month is immune from this principle. The systems of inertia you hoped would carry for the entire ramadhan are quickly hijacked by an onset of laziness you had from before, and suddenly you missed your first jamaa, or you notice your daily qur’anic wird reducing, or you notice tarawih finishing quickly with your heart totally absent from it. This encroachment of heedlessness and fatigue sets in.

But Ramadhan is a month that is meant to offset everything. The month when we refuse to accept these habitual loops that we fall back into. The battle for the nafs comes into play and the purpose has always been to transcend ourselves. Ramadhan overhauls everything we deemed constant, from meal times we couldn’t negotiate to our nightly routines. Allah breaks this natural circuitry, enforcing in place these acts of refrain; the days of swabr through fasting and nights of gratitude through prayer where we really extend ourselves.

But despite our good intentions, the dip always happens, right after day 7 to the middle of the month, where we find ourselves having to drag our souls again. Suddenly, this heart that had been longing for its Lord becomes clouded again. You don’t say your dua with the same enthusiasm, the same conviction, repetition, the tarawihs are a bleep without contemplation; not just contemplation of the meaning, sometimes you don’t have the Arabic, but contemplation that these are the words of my Lord, my source of guidance, and yet I do not understand them, and that should sting your heart. And yet it’s reduced to the physical motions.

If you want to know where you stand before Allah, pay attention to where He’s made you stand. Allah makes easy for everyone what he created them for. One must worry when the ibaadah becomes a tad bit straining on them, because it confirms something about the state of their hearts. We embody the physicality of everything, but most often than not, we forget our hearts, the powerhouse of our actions. That is an illness in need of urgent attention.

There’s a lesser-known story of Umar ibn Abdulaziz, and he was who he was, which usually recalibrates everything for me. It’s found in the Hilya. One day after fajr, he went out, arriving at the riverside where, in that waned darkness, he sees Mujaahid ibn Jabr, the famous exegete whose name appears all over the tafsir. Mujahid sat there remembering Allah, weeping, and Umar observed him. Then Umar said to himself, ‘Woe to you, oh Mujahid, how am I supposed to stand before Allah on the same day that you stand before Him!’

Not a week goes by without me thinking about that. The day we will face account before a Benevolent Lord, presenting our deeds on the same day with Abu Bakr, and Umar, and Umar ibn Abdulaziz, and Mujahid. And like Umar ibn Abdulaziz, the thought of that inspires me to do better. And yet the heedlessness, the lack of foresight, the Hereafter being made a minutia in our eyes. 50, 000 years, Allah asks you about a couple of years of existence. A life when you talk about it yourself, you encompass it in a few minutes, and yet, 50,000 years; what do you think Allah will ask you about?

Everything? Then you must worry about everything. You must not make your Lord the least of those who see you. You must take chances and strive in the seasons He gave you as lifelines, to elevate yourself, and that is the purpose Ramadhan serves. The doors of hell are closed, those of paradise open, and a caller calls forth for your approach each night. Will you heed that caller and work against your instincts to slack and give it your all?

Years after years in regret, why not make this one the one you regret less? Allah loves the loftiest of ideals, why not make this Ramadhan the one you outdo everything. The life of the spirit is the real life despite our neglect of it, and Allah, the nurturer of our spirits, makes this month about that. How Generous! The boost acquired in it is supposed to last you the entire year, a practice to last you a lifetime. Are you going to take it?

Here we sit approaching the last 10. In it are the 10 best nights of the year, and of those is a night worth a thousand months. If your strategy was the inertia you hoped would carry you through the month, your resolve is most likely to be broken. The world seeps in as we prepare psychologically to transition to Eid and the days after. Society is working against you, and it’s not without intentionality that you will acquire the benefits of the 10 nights. Before you are days of striving, dear Muslim, which should always begin with interrogating the state of your heart. Where is it in this month? On what day did you leave it?

Before you were people who reserved these days for their Lord. They busied themselves remembering nothing else, and though that may seem impractical in a time when the world demands our constant presence, it’s only the recalibration of our hearts to some semblance of that that can ashore you to a ramadhan resembling the one of those who came before. Oh Muslim who was excited as this month entered, one should not become fully beat down approaching its most important days. Approach them not only as if this is the last time you’re approaching them, but also as if this is the first time you’re approaching them, wanting to really get them right, afraid of getting something wrong.

Study how the Salaf regarded them and pick a leaf from them, growing your deeds exponentially. We could never attain the levels of their piety, but effort must be exerted, for they are our examples. The taabi’in, some of them used to exert themselves, and when their bodies became weary, they would say, ‘Do the companions of the Prophet think they would beat us before our Lord?’ It was motivation for them, that awareness that they would stand before Allah and present their deeds on the same day with the Sahaba, and that would prompt them to stand up and exert themselves even more.

The opportunity presents itself now to go the unnatural way, because transcendence is the way of our religion. But more than anything, it’s to be reminded not to forget the most important thing, Ramadhan like every season of worship, is all about the relationship between a servant and His Lord. It’s about the state of your heart as you present yourself to Him. What is the state of your heart?

Once, I was at the reception of a hospital and I kept on insisting that I wanted to see a specific doctor. There were two nurses right there and one of them mentioned a different doctor. I wasn’t even listening to what they were saying but I requested for the third time that I want to see this specific doctor. The nurse then assured me they’d heard me. However, I was taken aback by my own insistence and thought, ‘It must suck for the other doctor doesn’t it? Always being ‘the other’? The second option?’ Perhaps he doesn’t even care one bit about that. Probably never even crossed his mind. I mean, he’s still getting his checks at the end of the month, doesn’t he? Fat, huge checks. But then, I know what it feels like to be overshadowed by someone else. Be an extension of who someone else is, rather than being a complete human on your own. Be a separate figure yourself without necessarily being associated with another human being.

Without ever meeting this other doctor, without knowing what he is capable of, or what his experience is, I just decided that he wouldn’t be as helpful as the other one. Based on what? Simply because the other one is reknown for his abilities and he isn’t. Instead of giving him the opportunity to be himself, I automatically placed him adjacent to his colleague; who he is (unfairly so because he has never treated me) compared to this reknown doctor. Yet, if this specific doctor wasn’t available, I would still see the other one, wouldn’t I? The other doctor…For a moment there, I felt bad for the other doctor. He really doesn’t need it but I couldn’t help but think about him. That small thought grew into a stream of other, sometimes unrelated, thoughts. About us humans, beings shadows and extensions of other people or things or even events. For example, how we refer to a lady as ‘So and so’s second wife’ even when the first wife was long divorced or dead instead of just calling them by their name. How are we minimizing someone’s existence to simply being an extension of the first wife? Or you know how we would keep referring to someone as ‘the one who was raped’ or ‘the one whose mother drowned’ rather than who they really are? Someone with traits and dreams and lots of magic.

It made me think, if someday I stopped being strokes of my pen, stopped being friends with the people I am friends with, stopped being thee professional beggar, stopped being someone’s daughter, teacher, student, helper…what am I then? If all these connections, relationships, titles, achievements, events were stripped off me, who will SEE me? If my face became disfigured and my cheek muscles wouldn’t let me smile anymore…If I stepped out of the shadow I have always been engulfed in, when I stop being what everyone knows and expects from me, when my glory and youthful days are gone, will I be pleased with what I will see? Only skeletons and soul, how good am I then?

I was reading the trending story of Stephanie (Tanqueray) on ‘Humans of New York’ page and there’s this particular bit that really struck me: “I can’t tell you the last time I danced burlesque. It wasn’t some big thing. They don’t throw a retirement party at the Sheraton. The phone just stops ringing. It gets quieter and quieter until one week it’s so quiet that you sorta decide you can make more money doing something else…” It moved me because I realized we’ll all get here someday, one way or another, whichever profession you are in or whichever way you live your life. Someday, your beauty will be gone, your profession that you worked so hard for will be gone, most people you knew or cared about will be mere memories and even when you’re surrounded by loved ones and family, you feel lonely (no new information here really but do we really understand the depth of it all?). All your life you held onto this identity of who you are; a writer, a doctor, a mother, a student, a friend, a baker…whatever it is that you are. Or you stayed under the shadow of one event that changed the entire course of your life; an accident, abuse, a major success, a child, love, a friendship, a career, and once that is gone, once you detach yourself from this event or person, you realize you don’t know who you are without it.

Stephanie’s story was really a survival story of a girl who ran away from home at the age of 18 (now 76) and became a very famous dancer. She eventually gained the fame, the glory and the money. She was and is without a doubt, beautiful, yet at some point she says: “Everything was fine when the music was playing. When people were laughing and clapping and shouting for more. But I knew I was tanking. Even when I was on the stage, and having fun- I was tanking. Some nights I’d go back to the dressing room, and look in the mirror, and I’d realize that I don’t even exist. Nobody’s clapping for Stephanie. They’re clapping for Tanqueray (her stage name). And sometimes I’d get so depressed thinking like that, I’d just start crying. I’d feel like running away and hiding from everyone. At least when I was a kid, I could crawl under the card table with my dolls. But that pretend s*** wasn’t working anymore. I was too old to fake like someone cared for me. But whenever I started to fall apart, I’d pull myself together and think about how lucky I was to be Tanqueray. At least I was successful. At least I had a career. At least when I’m Tanqueray, and I’m around people, I make them smile. I make them laugh with my stupid jokes. They’re not trying to hurt me. But Tanqueray never came home with me. She always stayed out on the stage. It was Stephanie that walked out the back door, and nobody cared about her…” (You can read the very intriguing story ‘Tattletales from Tanqueray’ on ‘Humans of NY’ Instagram page)

When you’ve lost it all in life, when you can no longer afford fancy lunches and expensive getaways with friends, when you’re too tired your feet hurt, when conversations exhaust you, when words can no longer suffice, when the romance with your spouse has died, when your children have grown to have families of their own, when your career is but a cherished memory, who will SEE you then? When all is said and done, when you’re frail and helpless, when all you have remaining is memories of the past, will someone still care about you? Who will love you; this bare, naked soul of yours then? As Rumi once said, “I am not this hair, I am not this skin, I am the soul that lives within.”

Mitch, Stephanie’s son says at the end of her story: “At all times, people are doing one of two things. They’re showing love. Or they’re crying out for it.” He is right. We just want to be SEEN.

Well, here’s the long due review. As I started reading the book, I already knew I did not want it to end so I resorted to reading only a few pages a day so that it may last as long as possible. I couldn’t help but remember my friend who jokes about how unfair it can be when the rate of consumption is faster than the rate of production. She says how can one prepare food for three hours only for it to be eaten in five minutes? How can one strive the whole month to earn money only for it to be spent in a week? How can one take a whole year to write a book only for one to read it overnight? So I hoped in taking a long time to read it I would have done some little justice to the long time it took to write it.

I like it when a book is divided into parts that are related to each other whereby each part seems to complement the other parts. This reminds me of the book When Breath Becomes Air which is divided into two parts. Part 1:  in perfect health I begin describes the author’s life before he was diagnosed with stage four lung cancer and part 2: cease not till death describes his life after the diagnosis. I do not know whether it is because I like poems or the titles truly did sound poetic but it gave me the impression that part two is a completion of part one just like the phrase cease not till death completes the phrase in perfect health I begin. I got the same feeling as I read the parts of this book. I saw the chapters as a journey with one part leading onto the next. We start with an aching soul but through pondering, it came to believe. By pondering over Allah’s creation, it came to believe in Allah; by pondering on its blessings and capabilities, it came to believe in its self and its abilities; by pondering about how other people survived struggles that were similar to my own struggles and how the survivors were willing to help others, I came to believe in the power of humanity. And after believing, the soul was finally able to love; to love its Creator, to love itself, and to love the creation. At least that is how I saw the chapters to complete each other.

Many a times I read a page and I felt as if the thoughts were taken right out of my brain. I related deeply to a lot of parts and it felt amazing and shocking at the same to know that someone else out there was having similar thoughts. I stuck page markers on the pages that resonated with me most and I ran out of them and I had to resort to folding the top of pages despite not wanting to distort the book in any way because I felt protective of it.

As I read some parts, I felt that the words were coming from a very deep place. I wondered whether it was easy for the writer to write them down. Because for me, I find it very difficult to put my innermost thoughts on paper for fear that other people might read them and get an access into my mind. A mind which has some thoughts I hold too dear that I find sharing them will make them lose their value. I have a fear that letting people know what transpires in my brain will make me vulnerable and exposed. I fear I might lose the privacy that I reverently cherish. This is something that was holding me back from writing and I’m still working on overcoming it. I wonder whether the writer has a similar hesitance when it comes to writing about innermost feelings or whether it’s not a challenge for her.

The hallmark of it all was that the book was signed for me despite the writer not really knowing me.  And I keep on going back to the message to remind myself to keep striving. Talking of the idea of striving, it reminds me of another concept that I adore. The concept of Ihsaan. The concept of doing everything that one does to their best of abilities, in the best way and form possible. If you knew me personally you’d know that I keep on stressing about it. I find striving to be part of Ihsaan since it entails working towards being the best version of oneself.

This is one of the few paperbacks that I own and I think I’ll keep on revisiting it time and again until the cherished lines are committed to memory. I want to read it so many times that the pages threaten to fade from overuse. And I don’t think I’m willing to lend it to anyone because I intend to keep it as a personal journal, jotting down my thought on the bottom of the pages. So if I manage to get one interested in the book, they have to get their own copy! The least I could do is market the book right?

To get your copy, contact: 0704 731 560. The book can be sent as a parcel to wherever you are!

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