taqdeer

  By Khaleel Jooste

  Copyright Khaleel Jooste 2013

  This free ebook may be copied, distributed, reposted, reprinted and shared, provided it appears in its entirety without alteration, and the reader is not charged to access it.

  Ayat Al-Kursi

  Allah - there is no deity except Him, the Ever-Living, the Sustainer of [all] existence. Neither drowsiness overtakes Him nor sleep. To Him belongs whatever is in the heavens and whatever is on the earth. Who is it that can intercede with Him except by His permission? He knows what is [presently] before them and what will be after them, and they encompass not a thing of His knowledge except for what He wills. His Kursi extends over the heavens and the earth, and their preservation tires Him not. And He is the Most High, the Most Great. (Surah Al-Baqarah 2:255)

  For Zayn Malik

  May Allah be with.

  Salaam, Khaleel

  As Allah wills

  Pleased to meet you

  "What do you do for a living?"

  Malik puts his right hand nervously on his left. He looks at Gadija, but doesn't make eye contact with her.

  "I'm studying." She twists her finger around a tissue. She bites her lip. You could only see her face. Her head was covered in a scarf. She was dressed in a colourful top and a long, plain white skirt that covered even her feet. The shoes barely visible.

  "Alhamdulilah. Me too." He tries to smile, but instead made a sort of frown. He looks to his left quick. Then down.

  "What?" Gadija asks. She seems interested. For the first time, she manages a smile. She has beautiful dimples, he thinks.

  "Engineering. You?" He tries his best not to fiddle with his topi. He crosses his feet below his chair. He smiles at her.

  "Psychology." She smiles back. Shyly.

  "Alhamdulilah." He manages a laugh. She laughs too. They both look to their left.  Then they both look down. She starts to twist the tissue again. Smiles nervously. He tucks at his topi, then his shirt collar.

  "Do you enjoy it?" She asks. "The engineering, I mean." She looks up just enough for him to see her eyes. She smiles again. Beautiful dimples, he thinks again.

  "Alhamdulilah." He smiles. This time he shows his teeth. She bites her lip and looks down.

  Gadija's two brothers, one on her right and the other to her left, watches as Malik touches his nose and tries to hide a smile.

  Gadija looks at her brother on her left. Go easy, she thinks to herself. She then looks at her brother on her right. Please, I like this one. Her face manages to give them the message. They both shrug and look away.

  Ibrahim smiles at Gadija. Gadija smiles back. Malik looks at his uncle Ibrahim, who is sitting to his right. His uncle winks at him. He's smile is sincere. This one is a keeper, they both think. 

  Ibrahim accompanied his nephew to this first meeting between Malik and Gadija. Gadija is accompanied by her brothers, Abdurahman and Yaseen.

  Rhoda sits in the corner of the restuarant, unnoticed by the others. Rhoda is Gadija's mother. She observes her daughter's every gesture. The dimples ever present. She is sincere. The twists of the tissue. Nerves. She likes Malik, Rhoda concludes. The twinkle in her eye a dead give away. Rhoda senses trouble. Riedwaan is not going to like this. Not at all.

  Amr sits close to the fish tank, near the wall of the restuarant. Unnoticed to even Rhoda. Amr is Malik's father. He observes his boy's excitement. After many times of coming to these meetings with a bunch of strangers, his son, is finally excited. He is blushing and smiling nervously. He keeps tugging at his topi. When he is excited, he does that. His excitement usually makes it fall of his head.

  Amr is happy. He looks at Gadija and her brothers. They're clothes look expensive. Those patterns in Gadija's dress are hand woven, those don't come cheap. Her scarf is heavy and yet fine in texture. Those turbans that the brothers are wearing don't come cheap either. Amr sighs. He looks at his son, Malik. Excited face. His everyday, white shirt and white pants, that reaches to his ankles. Those sandals. Always clean and neat. Amr sighs again. He thinks disappointment.

  "May I see you again?" Malik says that less enthusiastically. He wanted to smile. But he looked to his left quick. Yaseen looked him straight in the eye. Malik looked immediately down. Started fiddling with his collar. He decides to put his hands underneath his bum.

  Gadija looks at Malik. She tries to hide an excited smile. She looks down. Then shyly up in Ibrahim's direction. He smiles at her. She smiles back. Then she looks at Malik.

  "Insha allah." She smiles.

  "Insha allah." He smiles too.

  Good News

  "So how did it go."

  Malik's mother doesn't even wait for her son or Ibrahim to enter the house. She was sitting on the couch. Nervously biting her nails. She hoped that they would have good news.

  "Salaam, Ilhaam." Ibrahim says and takes a seat.

  "Salaam, Mom." Malik goes and gives his mom a kiss on the cheek. He sits down next to her. He could barely contain his excitement.

  "Subhan allah!" He says excitedly. Ibrahim laughs happily too.

  "It went well then, I take it?" Malik's mother puts her arm around her son and forces him to face her.

  "Yes." Malik answers with a smile. "All praise be to Allah."

  "She is beautiful and smart too. She's going to be a psychologist." Malik looks at his uncle. Then back to his mother.

  "What else?"

  "What more is there to know?" Malik asks with a grin. "She loves Allah and she wants to see me again, insha allah."

  "Alhamdulilah." Says Ilhaam and kisses Malik on the cheek.

  He gets up and makes his way to the bathroom.

  "Uncle, it's Asr. Are you joining me?" He looks at Ibrahim .

  "Give me and your uncle a second. You go and take wudhu. Your uncle will join you soon."

  Malik disappears into the bathroom. Ilhaam looks at Ibrahim. He looks at his sister. His happy face disappears. She looks at him and stops smiling too.

  "What is it, Ibrahim. What is it that you are not telling me?"

  "Nothing, Ilhaam." He tries to hide the disappointment in his voice.

  "That nothing doesn't mean nothing." She knows Ibrahim well.

  "They are... well off. Rich." Ibrahim sighs and removes his topi from his head.

  "Insha allah, " he says and walks to the bathroom.

  Ilhaam stares into the air.

  She closes her eyes.

  "Insha allah."

  Riedwaan

   

  Riedwaan is sitting in his family's salaah room.

  He has just finished his Asr salaah. Several sunnah salaahs after that as well. He was busy reciting the Qur'an. Abdurahman and Yaseen enters the salaah room.

  Riedwaan looks up just slightly from the Qur'an, but continues reciting. Two creases form on his forehead. His nostrils widens.

  Abdurahman and Yaseen finishes they're Asr salaah and each sits flat on the carpet, in front of their father.

  He closes the Qur'an and puts it on a shelf next to the huge cushion he was sitting on. He gives his very extravagant turban a slight touch and just stares at his two sons.

  "How many times have I told  you to wear clean socks when you walk on this carpet?" His voice is soft. Yet, icy.

  "Tamaaf, father." They both say at once and look at each other. Yaseen gives Abdurahman a glare. I'm going to get you, he thinks. Winner takes it all, Abdurahman thinks. He grins. Then they both look at Riedwaan.

  Riedwaan breathes in deeply. He blows it out slowly.

  Then he smiles. His face immediately cheerful. Almost bright. He hunches closer to his sons and asks.

  "Well, what news have you got for me? The usual, I hope." He smiles cheerfully.

  Yaseen looks at Abdurahman. You're the eldest, he thinks. You tell him. Abdurahman gives him a sly look, then looks at Riedwaan. He starts.

  "No, father." He coughs and clears his throat. "She likes him." He wants to smile just to make it seem like it was not the most terrible news he just gave to his father. He decides to just keep his face straight. He then looks down and starts rolling his thumbs.

  Yaseen coughs and fiddles with his turban and pretends to be reading Ayat Al-Kursi, that is hanging on the wall behind his father. It is framed in a very expensive, and heavy, wooden frame.

  Riedwaan's cheerful face goes red.

  "Insha allah," Abdurahman says.

  "Insha allah," Yaseen says too.

  Riedwaan gives a cold stare into thé air.

  Baklava

   "He is very attractive, Mom."

  Gadija slowly peels another layer of the pastry and puts it in her mouth. She smiles to herself. She looks at her mother sitting opposite from her.

  They're sitting at the kitchen table. A large plate of yummy desserts, right in the centre, between them.

  Rhoda watches her daughter and takes another piece of baklava and puts it on her plate. She skillfully takes a small piece of the baklava using only three fingers of her right hand. Her left hand rests on her lap. She lets the baklava melt in her mouth. Closes her eyes with slight satisfaction. She utters under her breath.

  "Alhamdulilah."

  She sighs and smiles. Then she looks up at Gadija. Observes her daughter's excited face. Gadija's cheeks were slightly red.

  "What do you mean?" She asked curiously. Having seen Malik herself, she would like to know what it is about him that her daughter finds attractive. Why this one? That is what she really wants to know.

  Gadija smiles naughtily. Then twists her {PAGE BREAK} lips. Frowns. Takes another bite of her baklava. She licks her fingers. Keeps the right index finger in her mouth. Sighs. Then looks at her mother excitedly.

  "I find his voice very attractive." She smiles. "He has a deep manly voice. Though very gentle." She looks down at her plate. Lightly pokes at her baklava and takes another piece and puts it in her mouth.

  "His face is... striking. Dark. But filled with noor." She smiles shyly. Her dimples ever present.

  Rhoda looks at her as if to try and understand.

  "What else, she asks?"

  "Well," Gadija bites her lip. She tucks at her scarf. "I like his eyes. Their hazel. Big and..." She smiles embarrassed. "I like them." She takes a date from the fruit bowl and takes a tiny bite.

  "What I like most though, is his love for Allah." She smiles, but more as if to herself.

  "He is a volunteer at the orphanage too. He does what he can he  says." She looks at her mother.

  Rhoda looks at her. She seems to understand what her daughter likes about this Malik. She has not mentioned once how his clothes looked. Or the fact that Malik and his uncle arrived on a bicycle at the restaurant. No. Her daughter does not see that. She sees the boy that's becoming a man. One with the same values as she.

  "That's what I find the most attractive. That he wants to do good, for Allah's sake."

  "Insha allah." They both smile.

  For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health

  Malik sits on the end of the cart.

  He holds his topi in his right hand, while the left holds tightly to the side.

  The huge milk canisters making a loud rattling noise as the cart is pulled further towards town.

  Malik's friend, Rafiq, sits next to Malik.

  He, being much lighter than Malik, seems to be bouncing on the edge.

  This, whenever the cart hit a rock or the unending, uneven surface of the dirt road.

  Still, both were smiling happily and enjoying the scenery.

  "How is your mother?" Asks Malik.

  "Alhamdulilah!" Answers Rafiq.

  "Yours?"

  "Alhamdulilah!"

  They both smile wide.

  "Your grandfather still ill?" Asks Rafiq.

  He smiles less and looks at Malik.

  Malik looks at Rafiq.

  His smile almost gone.

  "Alhamdulilah." He still manages a smile.

  Rafiq pats Malik on the back lightly.

  He smiles too.

  "Did your chicks hatch?"

  Malik is immediately excited.

  "Alhamdulilah!" Rafiq almost shouts.

  "Alhamdulilah!" Says Malik, forgetting to hold on tight.

  He goes off balance and almost slips off the edge.

  Rafiq grabs him and is able to just nudge Malik back enough for him to grab the side of the cart again.

  "Alhamdulilah!"

  Both laugh ecstatically.

  "Did all of them survive?"

  Malik looks at Rafiq.

  Still with a broad smile on his face.

  "Alhamdulilah."

  Rafiq tries to force a smile.

  "Alhamdulilah." Malik pats Rafiq on the back.

  "Did you manage to get the books for the orphans?"

  "Alhamdulilah."  Malik smiles.

  "Alhamdulilah." Rafiq's smile big and broad.

  "Did your dad get a new job?"

  Rafiq looks away.

  Then back at Malik.

  His smile less broad then before.

  "Alhamdulilah."

  "Will you be able to make ends meet?" Malik asks concerned.

  Rafiq looks at Malik with a slight frown.

  Then smiles.

  More with his eyes.

  "InshaAllah."

  "InshaAllah," says Malik too.

  They both take in the scenery.

  They both smile broadly.

  "Alhamdulilah."

  Alhamdulilah

  "Salaam alaykum, Malik." Zogherah says that with a big broad smile. She tucks the stray, grey hair back underneath her plain black scarf. "How are you?"

  "Alhamdulilah, aunty Zog. How are you?" He smiles and casually walks into her house and returns with two empty glass bottles. He starts filling them with milk.

  "Alhamdulilah!" Zogherah says loudly. "Now that I have more milk, I can go and enjoy some delicious spiced tea. I have been patiently waiting for a cup. And subhanallah, here you are."

  "Alhamdulilah," smiles Malik. Careful not to spill any of the milk. He goes back into the house with the filled bottles. Zogherah follows him into the kitchen. Malik smiles broadly at the delicious aroma. He sets the bottles on the kitchen table.

  "What do I owe you for the milk?" Zogherah asks and takes her small string purse from the front of her apron.

  "Nothing, aunty, Alhamdulilah." Malik smiles and starts walking to the front door.

  "Malik, wait, "shouts Zogherah while she puts some of the delicious pastries, she had just baked, into a small container and handed it to Malik, "Jazakallah, my boy. May Allah reward you."

  Malik hesitates, but then takes the container.

  "JazakAllah, aunty Zog." He gets back onto the cart and they drive off.

  "What's that," asked Rafiq curiously as they started leaving. He was holding his tummy.

  "It's some of aunty Zogherah's delicious pastries. She makes the best pastries in the world. Allah has taught her very good." Malik smiles. He then looks at Rafiq. He could see that Rafiq was very hungry.

  "You are welcome to have some, if you want?" Malik hands him the container.

  "Shukran!" says Rafiq and almost grabs the container. He smiles at Malik, then opens the container. The aroma was delicious. Malik's tummy made a soft rumbling noise.

  Rafiq took out a triangular shaped one and bit into it slowly. "Mmmmmm," he says and then takes another bite and finishes the pastry quick. He takes another. "Shukran, Malik. Those were delicious." He hands Malik back the container. Malik closes the lid quick. "Wow! Really scrumptous. They didn't all have the same filling. I am almost sure that last one was filled with nightshade." He licks his fingers and smacks his lips.

  "Alhamdulilah," says Malik, happy to see that his friend is smiling again. They take in the scenery.

  "Alhamdulilah," they both say.

  Back at the farm, Malik packs up his belongings and with a "Salaam" he starts walking home. He comes across his two friends from the orphanage. Isa and Mohammad. They are both glad to see him.

  "What's in the container, Malik?" Asks Isa. He also seems to be a bit dry around the mouth.

  "It's pastries made by aunty Zogherah. She stays near the market. Her pastries are the best. Have some." Malik opens the container and they each take one.

  "Shukran, Malik. We will be on our way. We are off to see the farmer regarding work."

  "InshaAllah," says Malik.

  The two orphans leave with a loud happy "Salaam" from each.

  Just as Malik was about to enter his house, he sees Abdul Rahim cross the street. He looked to be in bad shape. Malik walked over to him.

  "Salaam, uncle. Is everything okay?"

  "Salaam, my boy. Yes. Alhamdulilah. I am just low on sugar. Need something sweet to eat. The diabetes has me." Abdul Rahim tries to smile, but barely.

  Malik opens the container and says, "Have one."

  Abdul Rahim smiles broadly and takes the pastry. "Jazakallah, you are a life saver. A few more minutes and I might have fainted. This will get me home. My shots are there. Mmmmmmm. These really are incredible. Who made them? You're mother?" Abdul Rahim enjoys every last leave.

  "No, aunty Zogherah that lives near the market."

  "You must give me her address, I could sell these in my shop. People will flock like crazy. Mmmmmmm!" He smiles and walks off.

  Malik smiles happily and looks at the container. It was empty. He took a last whiff of the aroma and said, "Alhamdulilah." He walks into the house, just as the Maghrib athaan started.

  He goes and takes wudhu and takes a glass of water and some dates to his room.

  Silently on his knees, he says:

  "Oh Allah, for you I have fasted and with what you have given me, I break my fast. " He takes a bite of the date. It is delicious in his mouth. His mouth sucks all the sweetness in. He takes a sip of water and it sooths his dry throat.

  "Oh, Allah, I ask You by Your mercy which envelopes all things, that You forgive me.” Malik says and then leaves to join  the dinner table.

  Mmmmmmmmm.

  Spaghetti and meatballs.

  Alhamdulilah.

  Spaghetti and Meatballs

  Malik looks at the plate in front of him.

  Mom's cooking is always the best, he thinks. He can't decide what he wants to try first. The meatballs look extra big today. Malik could see the grated carrots. He loves it when his mom adds carrots to the meatballs. He looks at the thick sauce. May Allah reward Mom for making the sauce nice and thick. He looks at the spaghetti. Just the right texture. Eating the spaghetti and meatballs with only three fingers, is going to be easy peasy today.

  "Bismillah," he says and closes his eyes. "Thank you Lord for this feast You have provided for me. Thank you for sustaining me, my Lord. May I only eat what my tummy requires. With your blessings,  I will give what is left for the hungry and the poor that lives across the street. Please also bless Mom for learning from You so well. Also bless Dad for working hard to help Mom prepare this feast in Your name. Ameen. "

  He opens his eyes and picks up a knife and fork. Scoops some spaghetti on a sideplate and takes one meatball and puts it on the spaghetti. He looks at the plate infront of him. Two meatballs left. There are still a lot in the bowl in the centre of the table. One more should be plenty enough. Satisfied, he shifts the plate to the side and moves the side plate in front of him. He starts cutting the meatballs in small pieces, then dices up half of the spaghetti.

  First, he only puts a small piece of meatball in his mouth. Sure to get some carrot as well. Malik closes his eyes. He gently bites on the carrot. It is soft.

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