₦airaland Forum

IZEGOLD: Hmmmmm Educative keep it up ma.

Thnx

harlos: ...don’t go for looks, don’t show your
appearance, don’t trust your looks, instead… impress people by your inner qualities and not by your external charms.”


hmmm... Underage you're always amazing with ur updates.


Hope you wear your hijaab too

Yes, I do

Okay guys, here we go. I had to deliver those updates today because I wont be able to update until Tuesday, have many things to take care of. But hopefully next week, I will be back with the rest of the updates and maybe the story will end next week .

Thank you all for your support and encouragements, u really are wonderful people.

I love you all.

, Mynd_44 that's for u.

***************

“Madam,” On Deeba‟s distant call, Hijaab stopped at her place and turned back to find Deeba approaching toward her with quick steps.

“I’ve someone for you.” Deeba said aloud and waved her hand to her right.

Hijaab followed Deeba’s gaze and saw a handsomely built man walking slowly toward her. His black eyes met hers for a second, and she almost fell to the ground in shock. She must have let out an audible gasp for Deeba swirled around to see what was wrong.

The man continued toward her. Paralyzed at her place, she could do little more than drink in his well-remembered physique. She knew her mind must be playing tricks on her, because there was no way on earth he would be in front of her.

Yes, She decided, she must have been having some sort of crazy hallucination. Her desire for him mixed with the fatigue was making her see things that weren’t real. Her mind was playing cruel tricks on her. It couldn’t be him. But this man, dressed in an impeccably tailored black dinner jacket, black slacks, a black shirt, looked exactly like him and appeared too solid and real to be a mirage.

On the other hand, Aariz’s condition was not much different. Although the woman’s face was still covered up to her eyes but even those eyes were enough for him to make him believe that it was none other than her.

He would know those eyes anywhere, he thought. Through those eyes, he could recognize her in billions.

How could he forget her?

She’d snuck up on his blind side as well, found a soft spot in his heart and wormed her way into it.

“Zeest!”

The sound of her name on his tongue shocked her.

Her throat still blocked by emotion, wouldn’t let her utter a sound.

Reaching in front of her, he stopped as if he couldn’t go on.

Their eyes continued to hold. Both remained motionless, frozen in time as they stared at each other.

“Zeest!” He took another step forward and stopped.

The typical lazy drawl of his voice was a caress, touching her and assuring her of his existence.

She stiffened at the sound of his voice, and turned to face him fully, her posture rigid. Taking one last step, she stopped short of him, able to make out his lean features and the pain carved in them.

For a breathless moment they both looked at each other

“Do…I…… I deserve you?” Words came out of his mouth with difficulty. His gold-framed glasses giving his face an ascetic quality as he spoke.

Her breath came in sharp gasp. Her throat muscles were so tightly constricted she couldn’t speak.

“Please Allah, don’t let her reject him.” Deeba prayed, watching them from the distance.

Zeest’s only response was a murmur. She was shaking a little.

And Aariz…

His own condition was not much different. He couldn’t believe his eyes, and couldn’t believe his fate.

“I just ask for one thing from you now.” He took a shuddering breath. “Forgive me, if you can, for all the things I’ve done with you.”

Just for a second she hated his male ego that had always stopped him to accept her, and wanted to hurt him as she had been hurt, deep and wounding.

Aariz swallowed hard. “There’s one more confession from me.” He looked at her with pain in his eyes, as she closed her eyes, guarding them through her long, curvy trembling lashes.

“And that is…” He left his sentence unfinished to read her inner feelings through her eyes, but she still kept them closed.

“I respect you.” He said softly. “Respect, that is foundation of ‘love’.”

The sudden, unexpected words caused her to open her eyes against her will and she watched him with disbelief, thinking if it was a dream or something.

Unable to gaze anymore into those fiery black depths of his eyes, she closed her eyes again, her legs shaking and her lips trembling, showing her weakness.

“Look at me, Zeest.”

His tone became affectionate.

“Please, look into my eyes.” He pleaded.

Her lids felt heavy and she had to force them open.

“I love you not because I need you… I need you because I love you.” He whispered the words
softly.

A moan came from her throat, so soft that it was barely audible, a tiny cry of utter longing.

“Don’t think I wish any favour from you.” He shook his head regretfully. “Perhaps, I don’t deserve that.”

She kept silent, her mind going blank as he spoke.

“But you could at least forgive me, right?” He looked into her eyes with request and plea.

“I’m sorry.” He said and meant it.

She raised her eyes to him, an aching regret sweeping through her at the defeat in his expression.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” He couldn’t look into her eyes. “But I know I did.”

“But know what?” With force, he took his darkly haunted eyes to her face. “There’s someone else too who was as much hurt as you were, and that was me, myself. “

A sob caught in her throat. Her lips snarled and quivered. Yes, somehow she knew what he was saying was true.

“Zeest?” He called her.

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” He said aloud. “You can get mad at me, Zeest, and it’s still alright. Don’t you see that? It’s alright.”

She hadn’t said anything yet.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He muttered at last, rubbing the back of his hand across his cheek, looking at her rather shamefacedly.

“I wish those times could come back once again.” His voice was husky as he continued. “So that I could make up for all the hurt and loss you suffered.”

“But I am not time!” Her voice was shaking with emotion, as she finally answered. “I can come back.”

He couldn’t believe his ears. Was it really her saying this? Was it possible that she could come back to him?

Could it be possible that God would grant him twice the magic of falling in love. He thought he was going to spend the rest of his life alone.

As for those tense moments she just stared at him, he saw the glitter of tears on lashes several shades of colours.

They stared into each other's eyes for what seemed to be an eternity. Then, with a muffled moan, she flung herself into his arms.

She held him so close, so tight like she wanted to devour him within herself. She was shaking. He could feel it.

He didn’t push her away and In fact gripped her tight against him. Her tears dampened his chest, as his own arms tightened about her, crushing her soft body to his. His hands roamed up and down her back, pressing her closer and closer. In that moment, he was surprised to discover he never wanted to let her go.

He wanted to hold her and protect her against everything in the world outside. His strong arms wrapped around her, completely binding them together in an unbreakable lock.

A violent shudder racked her frame as his hands touched her shoulders. The touch of him opened a wound so deeply painful that she started trembling.

Opening her eyes, she blinked through the wall of tears to see the absolute certainty of his ardent expression, the searing fire of his back gaze.

Deeba watched while tears blinded her and her heart swelled with love for the soft woman and the tough man. Yet she was afraid to move or even breath, for fear she’d start crying and not be able to stop.

The wind gently picked up as they held each other, crying for what seemed like hours though only minutes passed. The sun rose for them both, bringing the promise of a new and loving day, which they would spend together. It cast a bright beam upon them, illuminating the hope that they both held as if it were something tangible.

Aariz held her in his arms, feeling the cold now blowing against his own body as it drew near them. Their tears met the wind together.

Leaning over him and gripping the smooth strength of his broad shoulders for support, Zeest began to sob heavily

“Don’t cry!” The roughness of his male hand was on her cheek, wiping them away, although he was crying himself.

“For God’s sake, don’t cry.” His voice held no anger, only a kind of anguished regret.

“I can’t help it.” She honestly tried to check the flow of tears, but it was unstoppable.

“I swear to Allah I never meant to hurt you on my own will.” His voice was gentle as he said.

“I know.” She murmured gently and a little sadly, as she held her tear-streaked face tight against Aariz’s chest, sobbing as though her heart was broken.

“It isn’t your fault. You didn’t ask me to fall in love with you.” Her voice trembled, then steadied. “Maybe if you had, I’d be able to hate you, but I can’t, I don’t.”

“Have you ever wondered which hurts the most?” He asked in a low voice.

"No," Zeest whispered, her eyes flowing with tears.

“Saying something and wishing you had not, or saying nothing and wishing you had?” As he spoke, she felt the warmth of his breath against her skin. He brought one of his hands to dry a tear from her cheek.

“It took me a while to realize it was your voice I heard whispering in the breeze, calling to me.” Aariz told her.

“You were the shining warmth I felt when I walked in the sunlight. There was nothing over the next hill that was better than what I’d left behind. The best thing with worst experience had already happened to me, and that was you. Anything else would only be a hollow echo of what I’d known. I was surrounded by emptiness, Zeest, and the bitter-sweet memories of you!”

The gentleness of his tone was too much for Zeest; she dissolved into tears, her shoulders shaking, her face covered with his chest.

“I loved you so much that it became a physical and mental hurt.” He said as he pulled her to him and held her close, his chin resting on top of her head.

Their tears poured over their lips slowly, finally ending. They were still in others arms and none of them wanted to break the nearness and intimacy.

Gently, he pulled the scarf from her hair and let the curls drop softly to her shoulders, running his fingers through her hair.

There was this girl, with angelic face and innocent features, a girl who had changed his life, a girl who was his wife.

“I wish you could be my first love.” He murmured regretfully as he pulled her close, his wrist so close to the lobe of her ear that she could hear the tickling of his watch.

“It doesn’t make me sad.” She slid her hands around his waist, as her ear pressed against his chest. “Lucky is the man who is first love of a woman but luckier is the woman who is last love of a man.”

“I was stupid and blind.” He stroked her hair lightly in gentle comfort

She wanted to tell him not to say that. But when he looked at her like that, as if he could see into her very soul, her knees weakened and she couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

”If you knew how much I regret my stupidity! You were the best thing in my life and I let you go.”

She caught her breath at the sweet, unexpected words, and she pulled back to gaze at him in wonder.

“When you make the biggest mistake ever, something good comes from it.” She said and rested
her head on Aariz’s chest, at ease with herself and him.

He saw she was smiling, although her eyes still filled with tears, happy tears this time.

"No smile is as beautiful as the one that struggles through the tears." He thought.

“But…” He muttered painfully. “I even ignored you. How could you still love me then?”

“Do you know what’s great love?” She asked back softly and then answered herself. “It's when you shed tears and still you care for him, it's when he ignores you and still long for him. It's when he begins to love another and yet you still smile and say I'm happy for you.”

“Sometimes the one you love turns out to be the one, who hurts you the most,” She went on gently.

“Love is when someone hurts you. And sometimes you even get mad but you don't yell at him because you know it would hurt his feelings.”

A few feet away, Deeba gloried in the precious moment she’d been privileged to witness and knew she would treasure this memory long after both Aariz and Zeest had forgotten her existence.

“What I did to you is something I can never forget.” He was saying with his eyes closed.

“Apology accepted.” Zeest laughed and chided softly, as though she’d read his mind.

"I feel so warm, so safe," she whispered; letting her head, rest against his shoulder. And it was true. This was her place, in her husband's arms. It was him whom she loved, his touch she longed for.

She sighed and curled closer, her eyelids fluttering shut.

“I...I thought, our love was over.” He stammered weakly, running his fingers through her fine hair.

It was true, he’d never expected to love again, much less so strongly.

“Yes, it was over, but not finished.” She smiled through her tear-filled eyes. “For every beauty there is an eye somewhere to see it, for every truth there is an ear someone to hear it, for every love there is a heart somewhere to receive it.”

“It would be alright.” She whimpered and smiled, trying to convince herself, as much as him.

Her smile wiped out all the pain and torment.

“You remember something?” He asked, his index finger playing with her soft curls.

“What?”

“We’ve not consummated our marriage yet.”

“Hmm?”

“We’re already married ‘religiously, legally and theoretically’. We were not, however, married ‘practically’. But tonight, we will make our marriage ‘practical’ too.” There was a naughty smile on his lips.

She flushed, suddenly self-conscious but deliriously happy. Heat rising in her cheeks, she snuggled against his chest.

Her secret wish had come true. Now, and for the rest of her life, there was someone for her to love; there was someone who loved her back.

“Is he really poor?” Hijaab asked, as they both got into Deeba’s car and drove to an unknown place.

It was an exquisite day. The air was still cool but with a promising hint of warmth for the afternoon. The sunlight was brilliant.

“Yes he is.” Deeba gave her sideway glance as she drove. “But you can make him wealthy.”

“But,” Hijaab shook her head. “I don’t have that much money.”

“I’d help you in that.” Deeba smiled softly. “Don’t worry about that.”

Hijaab threw one last look at her and then shrugged her shoulders. She had no idea what Deeba wanted from her now.

******************

Aariz stood before the large bay window that overlooked the sea, his mind troubled. He had no idea why Maulana uncle had called him at his place so early in the morning. At first he was worried, thinking if there was something wrong with him. But when he had at arrived at his place, Maulana uncle told him that everything was all right and they just had to meet someone.

The bright sunlight glinted off metal for an instance as a car travelled down the tree-lined drive on the far side of the beach.

Nodding to himself, Aariz felt some of the pressure lift from his thoughts as he recognized Deeba's car as it turned into the flow of traffic on the main road.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Deeba was not alone, there was some other woman too who sat beside her in the car.

After few seconds, he saw Deeba’s lips moving, she was telling something to other woman which he couldn’t hear because of the obvious distance.

******************

“He needs love Madam, and only you can give him that.”

“WHAT?” Hijaab broke in sharply. “You’ve no idea what’re you talking about.”

“I do know very well what I’m talking about.” Deeba bit her lips, her eyes pleading. “Believe me Miss. Hijaab, no one will ever love you as much as he will.”

“Are you in your senses?” Hijaab turned her face away from her. “I should have told you this earlier that there is someone else in my life. I can’t let any other man enter my dreams now.” She spoke in a voice that told Deeba that she wanted no further discussion on the subject.

“Now please let’s go from here. Will you?” Hijaab asked thickly, giving her a final warning through her eyes.

“You love another man, don’t you?” Deeba stared at her breathlessly.

“Yes, I do.” Hijaab shouted, unable to control herself any longer. “And I can’t love any other man just to make him happy. My love is not for sale or charity. You got it NOW?”

“Alright,” Deeba turned her face away, staring at the house in front through the windscreen. “But he is the best man I’ve ever seen.”

“May be,” Hijaab shrugged her shoulders. “But after all, he’s not ‘him’.”

“I understand what you mean,” Deeba said, her fingers turning the key into her car’s ignition, ready to start the engine. “But what if he’s him?”

Hijaab looked back at her with disbelief, thinking Deeba has lost her mind. “I’m leaving this place, at this very instant.” Hijaab said aloud, and then with a push, she opened her door and climbed out of the car, walking away.

Without going behind the other woman, Deeba climbed out and slowly walked toward the main door of Maulana uncle’s house.

“Sir, I want you to meet someone.” She told Aariz right away, as soon as she saw him standing at the doorway.

“What does that mean?”

“There’s the girl of your dreams,” Without turning she pointed at her back.

Aariz thought he’d not heard her correctly.

“What?”

“I have searched an ideal girl for you.” Deeba told him, her tone heavy with emotion. “She’s perfect for you. Seems like you two are made for each other.”

His glance shifted away, his eyes seemed to be staring at nothing in particular.

“It will be of no use now.” He sighed. “You’d be disappointed. I’ve already spent my life.”

“Life is so short, we don’t have enough time for ‘love’ and yet we spend most of our time in ‘hatred’.” Deeba said quickly, now stepping closer to him.

“Go to her. Please. She’s the one you want.”

Speechlessly Aariz stared at her, thinking if she had finally lost her mind.

“Hurry up, before she leaves.” Deeba begged, her hands closing into tight fists.

He longed to walk, to find out what this was all about, but hesitated.

“Which kind of game are you trying to play?” He was confused.

“You want to go to her, don’t you?” Deeba’s voice spoke to him. “She’s your ideal. Just see her only once, for me, please!”

“But…” He tried to say something.

“Are you going to let her walk away?” It was Deeba who prodded him to awareness. “It is in your moments of decision that your destiny is shaped.”

Aariz wanted to open his lips but Deeba was already pushing him toward the slowly disappearing figure of a woman.

“You love her, go after her.” She ordered him for the first time, gazing at the veiled lady who was far from them now.

“But…who’s she?” He asked, frustrated. “I can’t meet any stranger like this.”

Deeba stared at him for a few good seconds, as if trying to guess his forthcoming reaction. Decidedly, she said,

“She’s….”

“Madam?”

Hijaab heard a sweet feminine voice, as she picked up her shoulder bag, gathered her books and got up to leave.

“Deeba?” Her eyes broadened with an expression of familiarity as she hugged her genius student affectionately.

“Umm, well I suppose you were leaving?” Deeba questioned.

“Yes I was, but if you have anything to discuss we can talk.” Hijaab’s attitude was as gentle and co-operative as ever.

“Hmm, just few things.” Deeba said softly. “Only if you don’t mind.”

“Alright, sit down then.” Hijaab motioned her to sit on the chair opposite to her as she herself sat again on her chair.

“Madam, I must say your today’s lecture about love and married life was excellent.” Deeba said with true appreciation in her eyes.

“Well, thank you.”

“I was wondering…” Deeba said hesitatingly, took a brief pause and then resumed her sentence. “If you had some personal experiences…”

“Look Deeba,” Hijaab interrupted gently. “Many girls have asked me the same question many times. But I don’t intend to discuss my personal life with anyone ever.”

“I understand,” Deeba showed her concern. “But it’s just that you’re always so mysterious and silent. No one knows who and what you’re outside that classroom of yours.”

“I think there’s no need for that.” Hijaab replied evenly. “The relation between us is of a student and teacher.”

“OK. I won’t insist.” Deeba tried to smile. “But at least you could tell me from where you developed all these interests for religion, speech and teaching.”

“I’ve this interest since my childhood.” Hijaab reasoned.

“Sounds like you had a great childhood.”

Hijaab gazed off and focused her eyes on the distant forms of student girls chatting and talking. She then dabbed away the first of her tears and shook her head vigorously.

“Yes, I had.” She answered, lifting her tear-filled eyes. “A great childhood.”

Deeba heard the deep pain in her voice. She reached and laid her hand over hers.

“Have you been hurt a lot?”

A silence fell between them.

Deeba cleared her throat, and said. “You’ve never said and I’ve never asked, but as a friend and as your student who cares deeply for you, I’d like to know what happened to you.”

Hijaab shook her head and said, “I don’t think it’s any of your business.” And then, not pausing for a reply, she said in a hard, straightforward tone. “I’ve already told you, I don’t want to discuss anything of my private life with anyone.”

“I’m sorry Madam,” Deeba murmured sympathetically. “It’s just that we like you so much and it’s natural when we want to know more about you.”

“I understand.” Hijaab responded in a small voice. “But it’s my final word on the subject.”

Hijaab braced herself against the table and fought off a shiver.

Deeba sucked in deep breath before plunging on. “Forget I asked.”

“Yes, I forgot it. But you forget it too.” Hijaab gave her a sad smile.

“Ah, don’t worry, I just did.” Deeba laughed huskily and then said,

“Madam, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Who?”

“You can say he is a man I really respect and care for.” Deeba said and then added,

“Madam, his life has never been perfect.” She told her half-heartedly. “There have been so many ups and downs, twists and turns, sorrows, and pains.”

Hijaab leaned back in her chair; one leg crossed over the other, looking quite tired, her eyes were half lidded, hiding the black underneath, shading them.

“Then tell him that, if you could wish for your life to be perfect, it would be tempting, but you’d have to decline, for life would no longer teach you anything.” She said evenly and smoothly.

“Not all men are like him, you know.” Deeba gave her opinion.

Hijaab took a long breath and forced a smile, determined to lighten the mood.

“Miss, trust me, he is so nice. He’s such a wonderful man. He’s just like you.”

“I see,” Hijaab nodded slowly, observing the younger girl’s face closely. She had no interest in this topic but the last thing she wanted do was to disappoint this nice and cute girl.

“I just want you to meet him, only once. Just one time, Madam, please?”

“Look Deeba, I understand what you mean, but first of all, you don’t know who I’m. I don’t really know who he is. We both are strangers.”

“Objection granted.” Deeba giggled. “I’ll be there, you two won’t be alone.”

“I’m sorry Deeba, I just can’t do it.” She shook her head straightforwardly.

“Miss.” Deeba said dejectedly. “Miss, your act can save a person’s life. You can give him a new hope to survive. He is so dejected, so disappointed from the life and this world. All he’s seen is pain and disillusionment. I’m sure even our faith would reward us for doing such a good thing.”

Hijaab looked as if she wanted to say more, but didn’t.

“Respected madam you are not forgetting that famous verse of holy Quran which says, ‘and who saved the life of one, it shall be as if he had saved the life of all Mankind’.” Deeba tried her last effort and it didn’t go wasted.

“Alright.” Hijaab took a long steadying breath. “I’d think about it.”

“There’s one more request Miss, only if you don’t mind.” Deeba requested, almost pleading.

“And what’s that?”

“I want to see your face.” Deeba announced emotionally. “And please, don’t say no.”

“Well, no…It’s…”

“I beg you Madam. Just only one time…I won’t ever ask again. Just show me your face, please?”

Shaking her head, Hijaab was going to say something but Deeba didn’t give her chance.

“Miss, I remember once you yourself said that each and every act of ours should be in accordance of our faith and beliefs. Our measures for personal profit and loss should be based on what Islam orders us to do.” Deeba argued, gazing deeply at her teacher’s face.

“Yes, I said that.” Hijaab replied after a short pause, lost in her deep thoughts.

“Then I can prove that what I’m asking you to do is perfectly normal and allowed within the circle fixed by our great religion.” Deeba gave her genuine point of view. “We are all girls here. Our religion doesn’t ask you to cover your hair in front of the same sex. We are all alike, no harm. Then why do you object?”

“But Deeba, I never showed my face to anyone here.” She gave Deeba an angry look.

“Well, there’s always a first time for everything.” Deeba was not going to give an inch. She was expert in her stubbornness, having determination and strength to shake even the strongest pillars like Aariz Ali. And last but not least, Deeba had solid grounds for what she wanted. It all did make sense. There was no religious reason for denying a simple wish of an innocent girl.

“Alright, follow me.” With a sigh, Hijaab came to stand on her feet and motioned Deeba to follow her toward her personal office.

Deeba followed her with heavily trembling feet and intensely throbbing heart. She couldn’t believe it was going to happen.

“You wanted to see, now look.” Hijaab said and then, slowly, almost like in a slow motion, her left hand reached up, and gently, very gently, she unhooked the piece of covering that hid her face.

Deeba was completely lost in her beauty as she stared at her teacher’s face.

Her teacher sure had that ‘Merry-like-holiness’, a face that could remind you about offering the prayers. Her complexion was whitish; her skin was freckle-less, decorated naturally and perfectly by clean line of her high cheekbones and her pert, straight nose. The only jewellery she wore was a medium sized thin ring of silver attached delicately with her left nostril.

“Oh yes, she must wear Hijaab. Dirty eyes shall not pollute such an innocent personality.” Deeba murmured silently to herself.

“Happy now?” Hijaab raised her brows.

“Yes, and satisfied too.” Deeba nodded happily. “Not a single aspect of yours has disappointed me ever, even your ‘looks’.”

“Shall we go now?” Hijaab asked at last, covering her face again.

“Sure, and thanks so much.” Deeba gave her a light peck on the cheek.

“And don’t forget about your other promise?”

“Which one?” Hijaab asked, stopping at her place to look at her.

“About meeting that poor man who needs help and support.” Deeba looked into her eyes with hope and expectation.

“Wel I didn’t promise. But I’ll let you know when I’m free and then we’ll both visit him and I’ll see if I could do something about him, alright?”

Deeba smiled satisfactorily and nodded as she followed her teacher toward school’s lawn.

“Oh yes!” She thought silently. “You can definitely do something about him.

“Our today’s class is about the secrets of a successful marriage.” She told them as they all stood at their places to greet her with respect.

“Please, be seated dear students.” She told them in a pleasant voice. As usual, she was gracefully covered from head to toe, wearing a royal blue Abaaya and light blue scarf with only her big, black eyes visible, shadowed by long, curved lashes.

“But, first of all,” She began in her typical feminine voice. “I want all of you to note our school’s official website’s address.”

“Yes, please?” A front row student asked curiously.

“It’s http://www.ahischool.org.“ She told them and then for their convenience, she wrote it on the Classroom’s board as well. “Although our web is still under construction but hopefully with the help of Allah, we’ll be able to launch it soon.”

“Alright, now back to our present topic.” She turned back to face her students once again as they finished writing the web address into her notebooks.

“Madam, if I’m not forgetting you have selected the same topic for your research too, right?” This time it was Deeba who asked the question.

“You mean marriage?” Hijaab asked and on Deeba’s affirmative nod, she said, “Well, a kind of, you can say. But I’m actually doing research on Islamic philosophy of love. Both topics are co-related, though.”

“So,” She began her lecture in her pleasantly calm voice. “Here’re some simple rules to follow.”

“Be your spouse's friend.” As she spoke, Deeba noticed her big dark eyes growing even bigger above that blue scarf that covered her face. “Show interest in your mate's life. Never be emotionally, mentally, or physically abusive to your spouse. Show affection for your mate. Be kind, gentle, and loving.”

“But Madam, don’t we all make mistakes?” This time it was a teenage girl’s voice from the middle rows.

“Yes, we all do,” Hijaab nodded and went on. “But, when you make a mistake, admit it. When your mate makes a mistake, excuse him easily. If possible, never go to sleep angry at each other. Many of us treat our spouses in ways that we would never treat others. With others, we try to be polite, kind, and patient. With our spouses, we often do not show these courtesies.”

“What are the requirements of an essentially good marriage, Madam?” A girl in her early twenties, wearing a big black veil around her hair and body, asked in a low voice.

“Well, Zainab.” She sighed and then continued her lecture. “Good marriages require patience, kindness, humility, sacrifice, empathy, love, understanding, forgiveness, and hard work. Following these principles should help any marriage to improve.”

“But these are so many things?” Another girl exclaimed, confused.

“No, that’s simple.” Hijaab turned to look at her and disagreed sweetly. “The essence of them all can be summed up in one sentence: Always treat your spouse the way you would like to be treated. If you follow this rule, your marriage will have a much greater chance for success. If you discard this rule, failure is just around the corner.”

As she addressed them sensationally, Deeba sat there silently, totally mesmerized by the beauty of her teacher’s speech, the wonderful choice of her words and her way to express herself so effectively.

“My dear girls, the beauty of life does not depend on how happy you are, but on how happy others can be, because of you.” She was telling them in her soft, gentle voice.

“Madam, what’s the importance of trust in married life?”

“Sakina, that’s the most important question.” She turned her face toward the girl who asked the question. “Trust is the basis and foundation of respect which ultimately forms the love. But trust is like virginity. You lose it once and that's it.”

“Remember the five simple rules to be happy: Free your hearts from hatred, free your mind from worries, live simply give more, expect less.”

“Madam, what is infatuation?” Deeba asked suddenly, biting her lips in frustration.

On her sudden question, there was some laughter and giggling sounds here and there in the class.

“No, no.” Hijaab shook her head. “Don’t laugh. Everyone’s free to ask whatever she wants. That’s what Islam teaches us.”

She then smiled and answered Deeba’s question. “If you ‘love’ someone because you think that he or she is really gorgeous, then it's not love, it's Infatuation. Or to be more simple, infatuation is based upon the ‘looks’ and comes just because of physical attraction.”

“And what’s the difference between compromise and love, Madam?” Seeing her patient response, another young girl gained courage. “I mean, people say most arranged marriages continue not because of the mutual love but because of ‘compromise’.”

“Well, Bina,” Hijaab said. “If you love someone because you think that you shouldn't leave him because others think that you shouldn't ... then it's not love, its compromise.”

“Wow, so true,” Deeba murmured breathlessly, she was completely lost in the beauty of Hijaab’s voice and words.

“Also.” Hijaab was not finished yet. “If you love someone because you cannot leave him thinking that it would hurt his feelings, then it's not love. It’s charity.” She added in the same effective voice and pleasant tone.

“Oh, I really must be going now.” She exclaimed as she glanced at her wristwatch. “Lecture time is already over.”

“Thank you so much, Madam.” The girls thanked her simultaneously, their eyes glistening with respect and love for their favourite teacher.

“But, before I leave, here’s a simple, short but nice poem for all of you.” Hijaab said sweetly as she brought out a piece of paper from her Abaaya’s pocket and then began to read it in her typical, slow, soft and soothing voice, warming their hearts.

Don't say you're not important,
It simply isn't true.
The fact that you were born,
Is proof, God has a plan for you.

The path may seem unclear right now,
But one day you will see
That all that came before,
Was truly meant to be.

God wrote the book that is your life,
That's all you need to know.
Each day that you are living,
Was written long ago.

God only writes best sellers,
So be proud of who you are,
Your character is important,
In this book you are the "Star".

Enjoy the novel as it reads,
It will stand throughout the ages,
Savour each chapter as you go,
Taking time to turn the pages.

*****************

[quote author=j-gatherer]This is more than just a story !
God Bless you[/quote]Ameen

Lucentbeauty: zeest. Thanks sis this is getting interesting,no I can't stop now. I like the hijaab,I think its cool am a Christian. Tell me apart from writing what else do you do? My greetings to my friend and ur hubby.

Well, apart from writing, I am an Msc. Student and a young entrepreneur

They send their greetings too.

babyzai: Wow!!! Dis is eye-opening. Though am a christian,av neva understood d motive behind d wearing of hijaab,now i do nd its interesting. Good job underage nd i must say ur husband nd kid(s) ar blessed to av u. God bless u more nd more. Amen.

So glad to hear dat . Ameen Ameen.

Hameenat94: tnx... Madam Na'imah cn i save it?

Ofcourse you can.

Shuq29: *Jasakumulah khairan*

Wa iyyakum

Bestluv584: Dat ws MY zeest zehra, bt y ws she answering hijab

make money now: Very educative write up may Allah help us all.@ underage i see u, hmm any updates

Ameen.

Raymonbell: Ur post tonight make me say a prayer that av never said b4 i hope u can help me with a beautiful AMIN

THANK U

FOLLOWING............

AMIN...... Mind telling me the prayer? Just curious.

Raymonbell: Thank u very much.........greet ur big boy and Mr for me

followin............

U r most welcome

Aliyeous: Peeps in... Allah Ya kara masa lahia,abubuwa sun dan yi mun yawa shiyasa...i missd alot kam buh tnz wuld eaze out soon...peepz out

Kwana biyu kam naji ka shiru, inata tunanin a raina nace ko lafiya. Khaleel yaji sauki sosaii, thnx for ur concern. Hope u'll b back soon.

Hameenat94: Wow.Im a Muslim buh dnt wear my Hijab always. I feel ashamed reading this nd its nt my fault @ll.when i wear it all i get z she's an 'extremists'. Nd i let those comments get 2 me.well i pray Allah help me dis tym as im ready 2 fight d feeling. Tnx madam underage. Ure xo gud @ wat u do.tn once again

Please stop being ashamed of that and never allow thosecomments to get to u in the future, its ur dignity. I pray Allah helps u to fight the feeling, ameen. I know its nt easy, depends on ur atmosphere, bt its worth a try. I wish u d best sister.

hajiscojas: Salam, am really impressed wid 2day update. Allah is great nd none has the right to be worshipped but Him. Very inspiring and I hope our Muslim sisters do learn from Miss hijaab speech. Tanks so much I never luk deeped into my religion bt 2day update has gvn me enough 2 tink abt nd amend. Tanks once again. May Allah guide nd protect u and ur household, also inspire u 2 write more motivating stories abt Islam.

Ameen and thanks. Am glad to hear dat. Aftaall dats d aim of the story, for us to learn and amend.

kennybelle: Thanks 4d smiley, had to smile, didn‘t expect dt. Afterall, u aint being paid for what u‘re doing. May God continue to use u to touch n change lives. If n only if readers can read meaning to ur message n not reading d story alone.

Ameen.

kennybelle: As nice as ever! Love d message u‘re trying to pass across, which is almost becoming a 9tmare in our society. Just a ‘but‘, take care wit it cos we all aren‘t muslims, so it doesn‘t turn out to be all boring. Cos i had 2 skip some lines, i must confess. Well done ma‘am!

I understand ur message. I will

And thanks

gennysq: Finally!!! ¶ yaff reach here.... #Panting hard# wat a marathon!
Underage, u r really creative ♌ Ūя̲̅ write-up is mind-blowing. Thumbs Up madam!! Kip doin Ūя̲̅ best.

Welcome ooo. *hands her a towel because she's sweating profusely*

I hope u get a seat cos d house is kinda full

Thnx for d compliments.

Lucentbeauty: Speechless. She has matured.

Who??

SPLENDIDFLOZZY: .
Oga did u cum 2 read mrs undage story or stare at dis ? Undage warn dis ur reader abi na folower.
Ur update was so educative, nd tnx 4 fulfilin ur promise. U ar 1 in a million... Hw is baby kaheel nd husy?? My regards to dem

Lol. No mind am abeg .
Khaleel and Hubby r fyn, thnx for ur concern.
Am glad u like it.#weaimtoplease

Okay guys, that's it. sorry for the delay and this update is kinda jammed ......was in a real hurry. Hope u'll like it that way. thnx

“Ladies and gentlemen, according to Miss. Sania’s philosophy, Allah, our GOD, wants us to cover our hair and bodies while offering prayers because He’s ‘suspicious’ about us and is not sure of Himself.”
A chuckle of amusement came from the public.
“My dear sister,” Hijaab addressed Sania. ”Allah wants woman to wear Hijaab while she prays simply because Allah likes to see her in her best and complete form when she comes in front of Him in prayers, as she is incomplete without her Hijaab.”
As she remarked, the chorus of applause was louder than before.
Sania was completely silent now. Perhaps, she had nothing to offer this time, nothing to talk, nothing to exchange and nothing to argue.
“But Miss. Hijaab you must realize that wearing Hijaab is not so easy for many.” A girl in her mid twenties took part in the discussion from the audience. Although, she was wearing a scarf but she also wore a short sleeved fitting shirt at the same time, which left her wrists and arm bare.
“I mean, it depends upon your atmosphere too. If your sisters, your mother and the women around you are not observing Hijaab, it would be tough for you.” The girl sounded gruff and defensive.
“I definitely agree.” Hijaab told her. “But I’d also like to point out that one must adopt ‘Hijaab’ by her heart naturally. It’s important to note that many of us girls adopt so-called ‘scarf’ just in fashion, which has nothing do with the principles of Islam. For example…” She left her sentence unfinished and then asked a question from the same girl.
“What do you feel when you wear scarf?”
“I…I just don’t feel anything.”
As she heard the girl’s answer, Hijaab turned to face the rest of the audience again. “Did you see? Some people blindly follow others without even knowing the logic of what they do. You must all understand that simply wearing scarf is not Hijaab. If you just cover your head, it doesn’t make you a ‘Veiled girl’.” As Hijaab spoke, her beautiful and effective voice gripped everyone’s heart there.
“And yes,” Hijaab nodded. “If you don’t have a particular atmosphere around you, it would be tough for you to wear Hijaab. Yes, difficult but not impossible. However, those who trust Allah and believe in themselves can make such things easy in a short time. It actually depends upon woman’s own courage and bravery, that how much potential she has to change herself in a positive way and how much power she has to adopt herself in good, constructive way.” She kept her response short and to the point, inviting no further discussion of the subject.
“Miss. Hijaab, you said Hijaab is even for speech, I mean the way we talk. Would you mind explaining that?” This time, it was a teenage girl from the audience who asked the question.
“Yes, why not?” Hijaab answered very pleasantly. “Let’s open our Holy Quran and see what is written in there:
“Be not soft in speech, lest he in whose heart is a disease (of hypocrisy or evil desire for adultery) should be moved with desire, but speak in a honourable manner.” (Surah Ahzaab: verse 32)
All the people were silent by now. Many of them had read their holy Quran many times, but no one had ever tried to understand the meaning really.
“You also said that Hijaab is a Shield?” A middle age woman from the guests wanted to confirm.
“Does it mean those who don’t wear it are insecure?”
“It is indeed a shield.” Hijaab nodded her head in a sure way. “The Prophet said:
“Allah, Most High, is bashful and shielder. He loves shyness, shielding and covering.”
“I just have to ask one more thing.” Sania gave her a challenging smile.
“Sure, why not.”
"Why do Muslim women have to cover their heads?" Sania objected breathlessly.
“The answer to the question is very simple. Muslim women observe Hijaab and cover their head and body because Allah has told them to do so.”
“Okay, I know that has been revealed in Quran and all that.” Sania tried her last effort to make a reason for her opinion. “But could you tell me any single ‘practical’ advantage such women get by covering their heads?”
Hijaab stared at her for a moment, as if trying to understand her question. She then said in a deep, thoughtful voice. “A Muslim woman who covers her head is making a statement about her identity. Anyone who sees her will know that she is a Muslim and has a good moral character. Many Muslim women who cover are filled with dignity and self esteem; they are pleased to be identified as a Muslim woman. As a chaste, modest, pure woman, she does not want her sexuality to enter into interactions with men in the smallest degree.”
“But I firmly believe that long as you’re covered, I think that’s okay.” Sania argued more. “I mean ‘covering’ should be important.”
“I don’t get you.” Hijaab shook her head. “Would you mind explaining that?”
“I believe that as long as you’re covering your body and not showing your skin, you’re in Hijaab.” Sania made one last effort to draw the crowd’s attention toward her. “Just keep your heart clean. The ‘Hijaab’ should be in people’s heart, not necessarily on their bodies. If your intention is good then it doesn’t matter you observe Hijaab or not.”
“No comments.”
“Miss. Hijaab doesn’t have any answer now!” She smiled sarcastically.
“It often shows an excellent command of language to say nothing.” Hijaab said quietly.
“Accept it.” Sania gave her a challenging look. “You don’t know what to say now.”
Hijaab sighed aloud and then said,
“As for your covering, thin transparent sheets can also cover body. Oil and paint can also cover your body completely. But would it conceal the shape of your body too?”
Sania avoided her gaze, trying to focus her attention on something else but she failed to do so.
“In another famous book of Muslims, Sahih Muslim, the Prophet Muhammad stated that: in later generations of his nation, there would be women who would be dressed and covered but naked and on top of their heads (what looks like) camel humps. Curse them for they are truly cursed."
The audience was silent now. While many of them were feeling ashamed of themselves, a few of them were proud too.
“Well, if you don’t mind, may I take some audience opinion now?” Hijaab turned to face the anchorperson.
“About what?” She was shocked.
Just what the hell does this dangerous girl want now? She thought in frustration.
“While doing an unofficial survey, I came across with certain interesting facts.” Hijaab looked at her hopefully. “I want to show those facts to you.”
“Like what?” She asked in disbelief.
“It’s been observed that husbands of those women who wear Hijaab are most satisfied with their wives and relatively have a less rate of affairs with other women.”
“Well… I don’t mind, if they…” Anchorperson couldn’t say more as Hijaab thanked her with a nod of her head.
“Wait, let me show you.” Hijaab said and then she disengaged her mic from its holder. Taking the wireless mic in her right hand, she rose from her chair and proceeded toward the crowd.
“May I speak to any husband sitting here whose wife observes Hijaab, please?” She asked, throwing her glance here and there in search of any person who could answer her.
After few seconds, a man in his late thirties raised his hand.
“Very well,” She replied, and very confidently, she took few short steps toward him.
“What is your name, sir?” She asked, bringing the mic near his mouth.
“I’m Javed, Muhammad Javed.” He answered, standing up.
“So Mr. Javed, first of all, congratulations to you that your wife wears Hijaab. You should be proud for having such a good wife.”
“Well, thank you.” He smiled gently.
“How do you feel about that, I mean as a husband?” Hijaab asked, staring at his face.
Mouth agape, everyone stared at them with curiosity. Hijaab had taken the show completely into her control. It felt like it had become a ‘one-woman’ show where she was the anchorperson, she was the audience and she was the guest as well.
“Actually you know what, it gives me a feeling of satisfaction that dirty eyes are unable to identify my wife, to recognize her, to judge her.” Javed said in an excited tone.
“But it’s not just that.” He continued. “Trust me... it feels so exciting and interesting. When my wife who's fully covered in front of everyone else, reveals her hair and body in front of me, only me. It gives me a unique feeling, a feeling of satisfaction, possessiveness. That yes, she's just mine, she is so attractive but her attraction is just for me. Every time I see her, I see her in a new light. It’s so sweetly seductive, even sensual but in a holy way. She never loses her charms and attraction for me. She is always like a new bride for me. Being totally satisfied with her, I never felt any need to take interest in any other woman."
“Thank you very much for your kind opinion Mr. Javed.” Hijaab thanked him and walked back to the stage to sit on her chair.
“Know what?” Sania said angrily, feeling like a loser. “I’m sure you will not be able to change the world. Majority of the women will never follow you. You’ve lost.”
“Follow me?” Hijaab laughed playfully.
“Who do you think I’m?” Hijaab questioned loudly, her tone emotional. “When people don’t follow God, don’t follow Prophet, how are they supposed to follow an ordinary, common woman like me?” She asked, laughing softly now.
Feeling defeated, Sania sagged against her chair.
“Thank you for giving me a chance to express myself.” Hijaab said to the anchorperson, standing up to leave the stage.
“That was a big favour for me, believe me.”

“Not at all. We’re still in men’s world and era. Have you ever seen a man wearing a Saarh? Ofcourse not, but you’ll always see many women wearing jeans or pants, shirts and other masculine things, and they do it happily on their own will.”
“So you’re saying that a Muslim woman must not wear stuff like Jeans, trousers and pants, right?” Sania asked, biting her lip. “Oh my God, so much fanaticism and conservative thinking you’ve got.”
“I’d only present what I’ve read.” Hijaab replied softly, never losing her temper even for a second.
“Now what’s right and what’s wrong, it’s your job to decide. As far as I know, women must not dress so as to appear as men. In Sahih Bukhari, the most famous book of Muslims after Quran, the Prophet cursed the „men who appear like women and the ‘women’ who appear like men. In the same book, there is another saying of the prophet that;
“Muslim women should not dress in a way similar to the unbelievers.”
“And not a single person sitting here would like to argue upon the fact that, by ‘origin’, jeans and pants are the invention of ‘western men’. Infact, jeans is supposed to be a pure ‘male-oriented’ cloth and if you read U.S history in detail, you’d find out that, just a hundred years ago, only rough and tough cowboys used to wear it. How masculine and how unfeminine.” Hijaab smiled dejectedly.
Sania just stared at Hijaab, at a loss of words.
“But ‘Hijaab’ and all those long dresses can adversely affect the activities of working women.” A girl in her early twenties complained from the audience. “Only modern dresses like jeans and pants allow a working woman to work care-freely.”
“I respect your opinion dear sister.” Hijaab turned to face her. “However, I don’t agree with that.”
She then breathed a long sigh and then resumed her discussion.
“Often forgotten is the fact that modern Western dress is a new invention. Looking at the clothing of Western women as recently as seventy years ago, we see clothing similar to Hijaab. Their clothing, which consisted of long, full dresses and various types of head covering did not inhibit these active and hard-working women of the West. Similarly, Muslim women who wear Hijaab do not find it impractical or interfering with their activities in all levels of life.”
“So, all restrictions in Islam are for woman’s dress, right? Men are as free as they’ve always been.” Sania said harshly, but in reality, she was feeling like tongue-tied for the first time in her life.
“I’m sorry, that is also not true.” Hijaab commented. “Hijaab is for a man as well. However, since his body has different shape and form, which is certainly not so attractive and beautiful like a woman’s body is, Quran sets a different criteria for his ‘Hijaab’.”
“And what’s that?” Sania questioned sarcastically.
“Men’s Hijaab is in their ‘eyes’, as Allah orders both men and women to lower their gaze.” Hijaab answered patiently. “Besides, there’s a dress criteria for Muslim men too. The clothing of men should not be like the dress of women, nor should it be tight or provocative. A Muslim should dress to show his identity as a Muslim. Men are not allowed to wear gold or silk. However, both are allowed for women. For both men and women, clothing requirements are not meant to be a restriction but rather a way in which society will function in a proper, Islamic manner.”
Sania couldn’t argue with this, nor did she want to
“The ‘Hijaab’ team scores an extra point.” The anchorperson said wryly.
“An extra point? I didn’t know we were keeping the score.’’ Hijaab muttered.
“Most women like their beauty and all that fanciness.” Sania said sharply.
“Not this woman.” She corrected.
“You don’t represent the face of a twenty first century woman.” Sania said with pride. “We want equality with men and won’t ever compromise our freedom for anything.” Sania snapped emotionally, her voice louder than before.
“Precious sister, women are not going to achieve equality with the right to show their bodies and hair in public, as some people would like to have you believe.” In reply, Hijaab’s voice was still very soft and gentle. “That would only make us party to our own objectification. True equality will be had only when women don't need to display themselves to get attention and won't need to defend their decision to keep their bodies to themselves.”
"You make it sound like women should be ashamed of their beauty.” Sania fired back. “Don’t you think a woman is the most beautiful creature of the universe and she has every right to display herself?”
“Sorry, beg your pardon, couldn’t get you.” Now, it was Hijaab’s turn to frown, with confused knitting of her brow.
“I mean, a woman should be proud of her beauty, not ashamed of it.” Sania explained. “If God has made her beautiful, she should be thankful for that instead of hiding it like it’s something bad.”
“Exactly.” Hijaab said quickly. “Her beauty is not something bad or cheap, and that’s why she should protect and cover it, like we keep every expensive and precious thing safe and hidden.” She made her point in a genuine way. “And mind you, a woman who covers herself is concealing her sexuality but allowing her femininity to be brought out. That’s what the word ‘woman’ means in Urdu and Persian…. ‘Hidden’.”
“Any message you want to give to the audience?” The anchorperson asked, glancing at her wristwatch for the third time. There was something about this girl, Hijaab which was making her uncomfortable for some unknown reason and she wanted to finish this program soon now.
“I’d just like to say…a strong person and a waterfall always channel their own path.” Hijaab addressed the audience, her eyes touching each and every person sitting there. “Be yourself, everyone else is taken!” She said in a soft yet effective tone. “You’re Muslim women, be like one, and be proud of that. Don’t lose your identity and don’t lose culture. Adopt positive things of the West, instead of going blindly behind the fake, temporary ‘attractions’. Thank you.”
People clapped for her, admired her for her excellent command on speech, but their response was somewhat different than what they gave to Sania. They had liked Sania for her bold style and daring personality but their response for Hijaab was filled with respect and appreciation.
“I’ve a question for you,” A bareheaded girl wearing a short-sleeved shirt raised her hand from the audience.
“Welcome,” Hijaab replied.
“Have you ever realized what would other people think if every Muslim woman begins to wear Hijaab?” Hijaab stared at her for few seconds and then answered.
“What we really are matters more than what people think of us.”
“Your views and your opinions are those of a religious extremist, shall I say.” Sania muttered in frustration. “A person should be ‘moderate’ in everything.”
"What do you really mean by the term ‘moderate’?” Hijaab‟s grin broadened, they could all tell that through her eyes.
"Umm… means, something in the middle.” Sania said huskily, feeling trapped in her own web.
“Middle of what?” She asked, amusement flickering in her big eyes.
“Well,” Sania chewed her lower lip for a time before she could go on. “You won’t get it. That was slip of the tongue.”
“It was a slip of the truth.” Hijaab gave her a smiley look through her eyes and then turned her face to address the audience.
That was when the anchorperson interrupted.
“Miss. Hijaab, you’re getting personal. There’s no place for pouring such fanatic and aggressive views in this all-woman discussion.”
“Respected lady…” Hijaab’s eyes grinned as she faced the anchorperson. “How can I expect you to remain neutral in this discussion about ‘Hijaab’ when you’re not a wearing a ‘Hijaab’ yourself.”
Anchorperson bit her upper lip in frustration but said nothing.
Hijaab then turned toward the crowed again.
“Our dear Miss. Sania told us a very beautiful thing in her speech, and that was, accept people for what they really are and not for what they look like.”
“So?” Sania lifted an eyebrow and frowned, but Hijaab carried herself on.
“She has made my point unknowingly.” Hijaab smiled through her eyes. Now it was her turn to blast her bomb.
“That’s the whole philosophy behind ‘Hijaab’, that… don’t go for looks, don’t show your
appearance, don’t trust your looks, instead… impress people by your inner qualities and not by your external charms.”
Her last comment of personal knowledge caused Sania to fall silent.
There was a chorus of impressed ‘whoa’ from the audience.
“Miss. Hijaab, if some man stares at woman’s body and hair with bad intention, it would be ‘his’fault, not hers.” Sania declared aloud, unable to control her temper any longer.
Unaware of the interested gazes they were drawing, they sat eye to eye in the middle of the stage, glaring at each other and breathing hard, both too firm and stubborn to give an inch.
“I’m afraid I’d argue with that too” Hijaab said matter-of-factly, and then stopped to take a short breath, but only to continue once again.
“If a girl gets raped or sexually abused because of her attractive exposed body or some guy gets some bad habit in frustration after seeing a beautiful or so called ‘sexy’ girl, longing to get that vulnerable body anyway, whom will you blame? I’d say that both are responsible.”
“You’re over-suspicious.” Sania exclaimed with disinterest.
“Sorry?”
“I think only those women and men insist upon ‘Hijaab’ who are not sure of themselves and who don’t trust themselves. Actually such people are ‘suspicious’.
“I see.” Hijaab nodded thoughtfully. “Sister Sania Rubab, do you pray?” Hijaab’s question was sudden and very unexpected.
“Listen.” Her chin quivered slightly.
“Please.” Hijaab insisted. “Just answer this question.”
“Yes, I do, sometimes.” She swallowed with difficulty.
“Can you offer prayers without covering your head, hair and body?”
“Ofcourse not.”
“Then, why did Allah made it obligatory for a woman that she should wear Hijaab while praying even if she is alone with no man around?” Hijaab asked and smiled at the irony of the situation.
“Tell me, why Allah… ALLAH the most closest to us wants us to be fully covered when we offer prayers?”
“I…I don’t know.” Sania stammered, unable to gather her nerves and words. “But don’t think I’m a pessimist about Hijaab.” Sania muttered under her tongue. “But I do complain about the way you fanatics use it.”
“A pessimist is someone who complains about the noise when the optimist knocks.” Hijaab said to her.
Smiling, she then turned toward audience and said,

“I wear Hijaab and that was not so easy for me in the beginning.” Hijaab continued. “It‟s still not something very favourite for some people as they do object and hoot, even make fun of me for wearing it. I get the whole gamut of strange looks, stares, and covert glances. You see, I wear the Hijaab, a scarf that covers my appearance. I do this because I am a Muslim woman who believes her body is her own private concern. Wearing the Hijaab has given me freedom from constant attention to my physical self. Because my appearance is not subjected to public scrutiny, my beauty, or perhaps lack of it, has been removed from the realm of what can legitimately be discussed.”
“Could you please tell us what does this word ‘Hijaab’ literally mean? I mean is it Arabic or what?” The anchorperson interrupted for the first time during her fluent speech.
"I was just coming to that.” As she spoke, everyone could see her eyes smiling above the veil that covered her face. “The root word of Hijaab is Hijaaba, an Arabic word, and that means: to veil, cover, screen, shelter, to hide, to make imperceptible, invisible, to conceal, to disguise, masked, to hide, to flee from sight, conceal, to cover up, become hidden, to be obscured, to become invisible, disappear from sight.” She explained in detail, not leaving a single point.
“Hijaab also means….shyness‟, like the beloved daughter of our dear holy Prophet said, ‘A woman’s best jewellery is her Hijaab.”
As she spoke, Deeba noted, her voice was as consistent and firm as ever. Both Deeba and Sheeba were sitting in the last rows along with many of their other friends who were all gathered together to attend this interesting event.
“Respected sisters, don’t think, ‘Hijaab’ is just a tradition. Woman is not an item for sale. She should be completely independent in deciding her future and fate. A woman needs protection, security and comfort and Hijaab provides her all these things.” Hijaab’s voice became deeper as she spoke.
“The Hijaab is purity.” Hijaab continued. “Allah has shown us the wisdom behind the legislation of the Hijaab in holy Quran as:
“And when you ask them (Muslim women) for anything you want, ask them from behind a
screen, that is purer for your hearts and their hearts.” (Surah Ahzaab, verse 32)”
“It means, Hijaab makes our heart pure. Yes, respected guests and my fellows, the Hijaab makes for greater purity for the hearts of believing men and women because it screens against the desire of the heart. Without the Hijaab, the heart may or may not desire.”
While she was delivering her speech, the audience was so quiet one could have heard cotton ball drop.
“That’s why the heart is more pure when Hijaab blocks the sight and thus the prevention of evil actions is very much manifested. The Hijaab cuts off the ill thoughts and the greed of the sick hearts.” She said softly but firmly.
“Our dear sister Sania spoke of the ‘dazzling’ beauty of woman.” Hijaab added bravely. “Let’s see what Allah speaks of this…
“And stay quietly in your houses, and make not a dazzling display, like that of the former
Times of Ignorance.” (Surah Ahzaab, verse 33)
“See, according to Quran, those women who don’t wear Hijaab represent the former Times of ignorance and yet our sister Sania says that ‘Hijaab’ is an obstacle in the way to achieve modernization and development.” She looked deeply into Sania‟s eyes.
“I’ll ask, does getting free from cloths and civilization mean height of development and modernization?” Hijaab asked with heavy irony.
Sania swallowed hard and glowered at her, unable to form an answer.
“Well Miss. Hijaab,” The anchorperson interrupted, trying to protect Sania‟s point of view. “What Miss. Sania actually meant was what advantages a woman could achieve by hiding herself?”
“In her hiding herself lays her own safety and value.” Hijaab said with firm and fixed belief. “Though she might remain pure but with men as well as women, there is always the devil to inspire evil intention and stimulates the rebellious carnal desires. No woman would like her beauty to be polluted by the lusty glances of the devilish passion to pollute her pure and chaste fairness.”
“The Hijaab is Righteousness, as well.” Hijaab added.
Sania just looked toward her, as if not getting her point. It was true; she had never ever come across with such a person throughout her debate career.
“The widespread forms of dresses in the world today are mostly for show off and hardly taken as a cover and shield of the woman's body. To the believing women, however the purpose is to safeguard their bodies and cover their private parts as a manifestation of the order of Allah. It is an act of Taqwah, the righteousness. “
“And last but not least, Hijaab is ‘Ghairat’.” Hijaab pointed out.
“The Hijaab fits the natural feeling of ‘Ghairat’, which is intrinsic in the straight man who does not like people to look at his wife or daughters. Ghairat is a driving emotion that drives the straight man to safeguard women who are related to him from strangers. The straight Muslim man has Gheerah for all Muslim women. In response to lust and desire, men look with desire at other women while they do not mind that other men do the same to their wives or daughters. The mixing of sexes and absence of Hijaab destroys the Ghairat in men. Islam considers Gheerah an integral part of faith. The dignity of the wife or daughter or any other Muslim woman must be highly respected and defended.”
Our holy prophet has clearly said…
“A man, whose wife, sister or daughter doesn’t wear Hijaab and he doesn’t object on that, is shameless and has no Ghairat.”
With this saying, Hijaab finished her speech and looked toward the audience. “If anyone of you has any questions in mind, please feel free to ask!”
“You’re good at speech, Miss. Hijaab, you know that?” Sania exclaimed rigidly. “Hey, why don’t you girls give her a big hand?” She playfully clapped her hands. Clapping all alone, her gesture sounded mysterious and weird in the heavy silence.
“I don’t need others’ appreciation for the confirmation of my own personal views, Miss. Sania!” Hijaab said with grinning eyes.
“So, you think a woman’s beauty should be ‘unseen’?” Sania asked her first question, beginning their mutual conversation for the first time.
“Yes, that’s what I think and believe.” Hijaab told her firmly.
“That would be unnatural.” Sania made a disgusted face.
“That would be the most natural thing, believe me.” She buried Sania with a killing smile that showed through her big, black eyes. “As the most beautiful things of the world are unseen.”
Killer and breath taking eyes! Sitting with in audiences, Deeba thought.
“Aha, Like what?” Sania stared blankly at her.
“Why do we close our eyes when we sleep? When we cry? When we imagine? When we kiss? When we love? This is because the most beautiful thing in the world is hidden.” Hijaab said, looking to the audience to include them.
There was a big ‘wow’ from the audience on her comment.
“Talk about positive things, Miss. Hijaab.” Sania said sharply. “Be alive, and come down to earth.”
“I’m already a down-to-earth kind of girl, Miss. Sania,” Hijaab told her calmly. “However see some people are trying to leave the earth and go into the space through their so called ‘modernization’.”
“Okay, you say Muslim women still need to wear Hijaab, right?” Sania‟s chin thrust forward at a challenging angle, prepared to argue the issue. “But, I don’t think that circumstances are still the same like they were in our Prophet’s era.”
“I wonder why you say so, when we still have the same Quran.” Hijaab reasoned with a twinkle in her eyes.
“When we still have the same method and number of prayers, even have the same fundamental principles yet.”
“Don’t stick to your fundamentals and old basics, Miss. Hijaab.” Sania mumbled, oddly tongue-tied. “Things are changing.”
“But people should not, in a negative way.” Hijaab steadied her nerves and smiled a tremendous agreement with herself. “Either stop blaming yourself a ‘Muslim’, or at least try to be like one.”
“That’s a hard attitude.” Sania murmured, with pure dislike in her expression. “Miss. Hijaab you seem so straight, so uptight. Miss. Middle Class Conservative, which is you.”
Keeping her tone as pleasant as possible, Hijaab said. “I won’t comment on this ‘personal’ remark from you because it only shows the ground on which you really stand.”
“She’s an expert of her subject.” Someone called out from the audience.

“No, I’m not.” Hijaab smiled gracefully and said to the audience. “As far as I know of the experts, an expert is someone who takes a subject you understand and makes it sound confusing.”
The crowd burst out laughing on her statement, enjoying the argument as much as it could.
“So, Miss. Hijaab, you think that Hijaab is necessary for women, right?” This was the first bullet from the modern Sania. “I strongly disagree with that and challenge your opinion.”
“It’s not what ‘I’ think my dear sister, It’s something which ‘Allah’ likes and orders us to do.” Hijaab said gently and then went on to explain.
Sania raised her brows and shrugged her shoulders but said nothing.
As if reading her thoughts, Hijaab said, “Yes, I do have proofs and reasons for saying so. However, I don’t know the names of so many ‘western’ books like you do. I just have one book for my reference.”
“I see, and which book is that?”
“Holy Quran.”
Hijaab’s reply came like a missile, fast, sudden and unexpected. It made Sania ashamed, and she turned her face away.
“Allah is clearly ordering us Muslim women to observe Hijaab in the following verse.” Hijaab said in a modest tone and then recited the verse in a wonderful accent, first in Arabic, which was then followed by its English translation.
"And say to the believing women that they should lower their gaze and guard their modesty; that they should not display their beauty and ornaments except what (normally) appears of them. They should draw their coverings over their bosoms and not show their charms except to their husbands (or close relatives), and let them not strike their feet so that what they hide of their ornaments may be known; and turn to Allah all of you, O believers! So that you may be successful." (Surah Noor, verse 31)
Sania couldn’t utter a single word then, she was speechless at the moment.
“But is Islam just Hijaab and veil and nothing else?” Sania muttered in a confused tone, her tongue was sharp and pointed like a sword. “Why don’t you talk about prayers, fasting and other fundamental principles of Islam?”
“Sister Sania, with due respect, if tea is deficient of sugar, would you add milk in it? Or would you prefer putting sugar to make it sweet?” As Hijaab spoke, her words felt like a heavy explosion to Sania Rubab.
“Hijaab is something which affects society on ‘general’ scale, while prayers and fasting come under the heading of one’s individual acts. Meaning, offering them or not is one’s personal matter, it won’t affect the society generally as much as rejection of Hijaab does.”
“Whatever.” Sania chewed her bottom lip in confusion. “I don’t agree with you at all when you say that woman needs Hijaab for her security and all that.”
“Yes, she definitely needs Hijaab for her safety, security and protection.” Hijaab told her softly, her accent impressive and her tone expressive.
"Why doesn't she keep a body guard then?" Sania objected in a voice filled with deep satire.
All eyes were on Hijaab as she took a long moment and answered Sania.
“Because she wants to be ‘independent’, like you said.” As Hijaab spoke to Sania, there was something deliciously wicked about the way she was holding the other girl through her eyes, which made Sania even more confused. “Those people who keep bodyguards are dependent on them for their lives.”
"We Muslim females wear Hijaab because we want to stop men from treating us like sex objects, as they have always done.” Hijaab continued in the same courageous style. Although she didn’t raise her voice, but there was steel in it. “We want them to ignore our appearance and to be attentive to our personalities and mind. We want them to take us seriously and treat us as equals and not just chase us around for our bodies and physical looks."
“How confident you are!” Said Sania, wiping beads of perspiration from her fair face with the back of one slender arm.
“Pity you are not.” Hijaab replied swiftly. “Mind, if I ask you something personal?”
“W...What is that?” Sania swallowed hard.
“Did you ever wear a Hijaab?”
“Well… I…” Sania stammered thickly. “I did start wearing scarf once.”
“Then?”
“But, then I thought… am I a perfect Muslim? Do I follow all the orders of Islam, If I don’t, then why only Hijaab? So, I just took it off. ”
“I see,” Hijaab nodded thoughtfully and then asked. “Miss. Sania, with due respect, does doing one sin justify a need to do other sins too? “
“Meaning?” Sania frowned.
“It’s simple.“ Hijaab said confidently. “Can we drink wine just because we do backbiting too? You must not forget that both are forbidden in Islam. Also, can one commit adultery just because he is a liar as well?
“So?”
“So sister, if we’re not adopting a good deed for some reason, it doesn’t mean we can’t adopt the other good things as well. Hijaab has its own separate place. You can’t leave it by saying that I don’t practice other orders of Islam either, so why shall I practice the Hijaab only?” Hijaab’s point did make sense; there was no doubt about that.
The fractional tightening of Sania's lower lip indicated the message had been received and understood.
“Dear sisters,” Hijaab went on. “Who says this new century belongs to women?” She asked aloud, her voice a little shaky with emotion now.

The huge auditorium was crowded with hundreds of people, all eager to witness the most awaited and interesting talk show of the year. There were students of various universities and colleges, couples, families, press photographers, cameramen, and various government officials, waiting desperately for this most exciting talk show to begin. Every seat was occupied, and even the galleries were jammed with chattering youths, their spirits lifted by the thought of upcoming, thrilling event.
At last, one of the famous anchorpersons of T.V appeared, holding wireless mic in her right hand, and came to stand in the middle of the huge stage. She first threw a detailed glance on the silent crowd and then, after clearing her throat, she announced!
“Respected ladies and gentlemen, as you all know we’ve been waiting for this day for so long. But now, when the great day has finally arrived, we can’t wait anymore to listen, to see and to observe what this memorable day has for us.” Her sweet feminine voice echoed loudly through the surroundings.
“Events like this are rare. In fact you rarely see anything like this.” She added in the same impressive tone. “The question of Hijaab for Muslim women has been a controversy for centuries and will probably continue for many more. The topic of Hijaab is something we don’t talk about much. Let me say, we don’t come across on the media with anything like that. That was the reason behind arranging this talk show. We’ll share thoughts, exchange opinions and discuss what it really is and then we’ll try to find out any possible solution for the problems that may arise. Keeping in eye the wishes of you all, the topic we chose, is: The question of Hijaab: suppression or liberation?”
Here, she paused to take a breath and then looked at the curious, anxious people all around her.
“Respected guests and viewers, now is the time to invite the first participant of the program. She doesn’t need any introduction at all. With her impressive personality and effective talents, she has won every heart in such a short time.” The anchorperson announced emotionally, her voice shaking with excitement. “So, ladies and gentlemen, please give a big hand to Pakistan‟s number one female debater, Miss. Sania Rubab!”
As Sania left her seat, every eye rose toward her. She had the good looks of a model and wore her clothing like one. Her Pakistani dress was so fitted and tight that it seemed like she’d got it sewed and stitched only after putting it on her body. Her thin Dupatta was on one side of her body, unable to cover her front completely. The curvy, thrusting swells of her bosom drew many lustful gazes towards her figure. Her smooth waxed arms were clearly visible from her short-sleeved shirt. She had left her straight, dyed hair on her back, flowing freely as she rose and moved forward.
Loud sound of clapping from all over the huge hall followed her steps. There were few whistles here and there from the male audience as she proceeded toward the stage and seated herself on the chair placed at the left side of the anchor’s seat.
“Miss. Sania Rubab. It’s so very nice to see you here.” The anchorperson said pleasantly.


“Thank you, the pleasure is all mine.” Sania first smiled very pleasantly at the anchorperson and then at the crowd.
“You‟re free to speak whatever you want to, regarding the topic.” The anchorperson told her. “We all can’t wait to enjoy another marvellous speech from you. So let’s begin now.”
Sania gave her another smile and then shifted on her seat, turning to face the audiences.
“My dear fellows and respected guests, it’s a privilege for me that I’m invited here to present my views on this topic regarding Hijaab.” She began confidently.
“My point is that, this so called Hijaab of today does suppress a woman and her qualities.” Her voice was very feminine, her accent impressive and her tone sensational.
“This is the new millennium. We’ve entered the twenty first century. Things, now, are not like what they were fourteen hundred years ago. We now need to change ourselves according to the needs and requirements of the present Era. As far as this Islam is concerned, I am a Muslim myself and have no regrets for that. But being a Muslim doesn’t prevent me from being a modern woman too. Does it?” She asked fluently.
“Islam is a universal religion, a religion of all ages.” She went on effectively and confidently. “It has flexibility and capability for various adaptations, variable with opportunities and circumstances. But, unfortunately, certain people have hijacked Islam and think of it as their own property. They have their own definitions of Islam and they believe that everyone else, who doesn’t follow them, is on wrong path. In men, we call them “Mullah‟ kind of people but know what… you can find such stereotype specimens even in women too. These women are actually narrow-minded, backward psychics who insist upon certain old traditions of Arab namely Hijaab. They think that anyone who doesn’t wear Hijaab is wrong and bad. My personal opinion about such religious extremists is that they need professional help and they are scared and jealous of the dazzling beauty of today’s woman.”
At this point, she took a brief pause to take a breath and then resumed her speech.
“Hijaab is something that suppresses women and makes them feel bound or imprisoned. Although practiced by many, it’s an undeniable truth that it has failed to achieve its purpose from the beginning. Hijaab leaves a wrong impression on hearts of the surrounding people. Many non-Muslims refused to adopt Islam only because they think of Muslim women as persons who are oppressed by their men. It’s also an obstacle in the way to achieve modernization and development.” She then stopped for a moment, gazing at the massive audience in front of her.
“What I really personally believe is, a person should be moderate, open minded and balanced and should have enough broad vision to accept people for what they really are and not for what they look like.” As she finished her sentence, she received heavy clapping and greetings from the audience, which showed the fact that most of them were agreed with what she said.
“For references, and for confirmation of my opinion, please consult the books named “Woman; her true liberty”, by Smith Jacobs, “Islam suppresses women” by Melissa Thomas, “True face of modern woman” by Richard Marshall and many more. The list just never ends.” Sania added and then said,
“All of these renowned philosophers favour the fact that this unnecessary, formal tradition named Hijaab suppresses Muslim woman, and stops her from being a true liberal woman.” As she completed her sentence, Sania gave another wonderful smile to the audience, through her full, putting lips and then said,
“That’s all I need to say at the moment. I think all of you’ve got my message and your gestures show you do agree with me. Thanks for your support and appreciation.”
Her speech brought the females in the audience to their feet, cheering and clapping. Once again, the audience gave her a big hand, praising her for her valid and genuine points.
“And now I’d like to invite someone who favours and supports Hijaab as a life style”. The
anchorperson rose from her chair and announced.
“She has done masters in Islamic studies and now she’s writing her thesis on Hijaab for her doctorate degree. She also teaches in an Islamic school in her spare hours.” She said and then paused to notice the audience’s reaction. Some of them were yawning sleepily, and some of them were twisting their lips, like something really boring was about to come.
“Poor girl,” The anchorperson whispered to herself in her heart and then said,
“Please welcome, Miss. Hijaab Zehra.”
Every head had turned at her entrance, as she opened the door and stepped into the auditorium swiftly. Dressed gracefully in a full, light green Abaaya and dark green scarf which didn’t show even slightest of her hair and body except her hands, she was looking ultra-modest. In that broad, dark green scarf that covered her head and face up to her eyes, she looked like a holy Goddess, a live statue of grace, soberness, respect and shyness.
“Look… Here we’ve got an UMO.” A teenage girl with her arms bare and head naked had
exclaimed sarcastically.
“UMO?” Her companion asked, confused.
“Yeah man…an “Unidentified Moving Object.” Her sentence was followed by laughter from many.
Critical and sarcastic glances were exchanged and throats cleared.
“Oh my God! It can’t be her.” One of the girls from audience exclaimed with shock.
“Why?” Her fellow asked.
“That girl is a walking encyclopedia of knowledge about Islam.”
“But Sania is sharp. She’s not less than her. She’s the best talkative girl I’ve ever seen. Nobody can defeat her.” Her friend had replied.
“Who’s she?” This time, it was a modern, aunty-kind-of-woman’s voice, as she looked at her with disinterest. “An Afghan woman or something?”

“I don’t think so. But she sure looks like one.” Her husband replied, smiling at her covered figure.
They all burst into laughter.
Ignoring all the voices and the bitter sarcastic comments, Hijaab proceeded toward the stage silently. Once she reached there, she seated herself on the chair placed at the right side of the anchor’s seat. Now, with anchor in the middle, she was face to face with Sania who scanned her with piercing eyes and jerked her head carelessly, her rich hair flowing wildly around her face as she did so.
“All respected ladies and gentlemen, Assalaam O alaikum from a very ordinary woman.” Hijaab began in a very calm and patient voice. With powerful sound system and echo equipment, her voice felt impressive and effective to everyone sitting there.
“I am just a student, and I don’t have much knowledge even on the subject I’m going to advocate. However, I’d try my best to present my opinion and views to you in the easiest form possible. I’m not an expert of my subject like others. However, I’d like to begin my speech with a poem; its title is “Hijaab” of course.”
She began to read in her sweet, musical voice with a confidence that surprised many. As she read in her sensational voice, it seemed like everyone there had turned to stone, frozen at the place.
When you look at me
all you can see,
Is the scarf that covers my hair,
my word you can't hear
Because you're too full of fear,
Mouth gaping, all you do is stare.
You think it's not my own choice,
in your own "liberation" you rejoice.
You're so thankful that you're not me.
Think I'm uneducated,
Trapped, oppressed and subjugated.
You're so thankful that you are free.
But people, you've got it wrong-
You’re the weak and I’m the strong,
For I've rejected the trap of man.
Cheap clothes, jeans, and skirt,
these are devices for pain and hurt,
Always jumping to the male agenda,
Competing on his terms.
No job share, no baby-sitting facilities,
No feeding and diaper-changing amenities.
No equal pay for equal skill-
your job they can always fill.
Is this liberation?
A person with ideas and thought,
I'm not for sale, I can't be bought.
I won't decorate anyone's arm,
nor be promoted for my charm.
There's more to me than playing coy.
Living life as a balancing game- mother,
Daughter, wife, nurse, cleaner, cook, lover,
and still bring home a wage.
Who thought up this modern "freedom"
Where man can love them and man can leave them.
This is not free but life in a cage.
“Be-Hijaab‟ women you can have your life.
Mine - it has less strife.
I cover and I get respected
Surely that's to be expected
For I won't demean the feminine
I won't live to a male criterion.
I dance to my own tune,
And I hope you see this very soon,
for your own sake- wake up and use your sight!


Her voice became a mere whisper as she completed the last stanza. Unexpectedly, this time the people did clap for her, breaking the complete pin-drop silence that had been all around the place during the time she was reading the poem.
“Now, I’d first want to make it clear that what does this term ‘Hijaab’ mean.” She said evenly.
“Hijaab is…” She continued smoothly.
“A life style, a whole way of living. Unfortunately, most of us interpret the wrong meanings of ‘Hijaab’. We think that it’s just a cloth that covers our hair and body. No, it’s not ‘just’ that. Basically it’s a covering, imaginary, material and spiritual shield that protects you against bad eyes, sins and evils.” She said impressively.
“Respected guests and my fellows, ‘Hijaab’ is not just a symbol or a religious tradition. Also, it doesn’t mean covering your hair and body only. It is not merely a covering dress but more importantly, it is behaviour, manners, speech and appearance in public. Dress is only one facet of the total being. Hijaab also includes the way you live, the style you act in, the expression you show, the way in which you talk, walk and do your work.” Her voice was firm and unshaken, without any touch of confusion or hesitancy in it.
“Our women are our jewels, invaluable ornaments.” She went on with the same grace. “The more valuable is a thing, more secured we keep it and it is not displayed to one and all or to the people who visit us. The first or the most attractive part of a woman is her hair or body itself. It is the hair and the mould of the body that stimulate the animal passion in the sexes. Thus hiding of the hair and the mould of the body of a woman depends upon the value she herself assigns to her own personality and position and to the extent she desires herself to be seen by others or otherwise.“
Hijaab then took a long breath and threw a glance on the people in front of her, who stared at her with pure concentration.
“The Hijaab is modesty. Allah made the adherence to the Hijaab a manifestation for chastity and modesty.
Allah says:
“O Prophet, tell your wives and daughters and the women of the believers to draw their
cloaks (veils) close round them. That will be better, so that they may be recognized and not
annoyed." (Surah Ahzaab, verse 59)
“In the above verse, there is evidence that the recognition of the apparent beauty of the woman is harmful to her. When the cause of attraction ends, the restriction is removed.” Hijaab finished her sentence and looked toward Sania, expecting a question.
Sania kept herself silent for a moment, as she didn’t see any reason to argue the point.

“Deeba! Oh my God, it’s so hot in Karachi these days. It’s already forty degrees today, how could you wear an Abaya in such a hot weather?” Sheeba almost screamed in shock.
Her sister smiled and replied, "Ah yes, but the fires of Hell are hotter still!"
“Your philosophy is always out of my mind.” Sheeba shrugged her shoulders.
“I wonder if you have one.” Deeba smiled again and slowly, deliberately, she put her arms inside the sleeves of light gray Abaaya of fine silk. Turning towards the dressing table mirror, she gave herself a final look and her lips twisted to exclaim a fine ‘Wow’ on herself. With black scarf, her gray Abaaya produced a wonderful contrasting effect, creating a grace and powerful magnetism around her.
“Deeba. Are you crazy or something?”
“Why do you ask so?”
“Come on. We are going to a birthday party. Take this coat and scarf off, NOW!” Sheeba said, frustrated.
“So, you think Hijaab should be reserved only for religious gatherings, right?”
“Of course, dressing should be appropriate according to the occasion and atmosphere. You don’t need to wear your covering in a function that is purely non-religious.” Sheeba said firmly.
Deeba sighed and looked at her sister for a second.
She felt like it was not her sister speaking; it was ‘devil’ speaking inside her dear sister. Yes, he sure was a Satan, who was trying cleverly to change her positive thinking in a glamorized way.
“Hey where are you?” Sheeba shook her hand in front of her eyes. “Come on sister. Don’t be an extremist. Okay we’re Muslims and everything but one should keep a balance between the world and religion.”
“Oh My God.” Deeba thought, stunned. That’s what Miss. Hijaab had told her in the school, in her very first class.
How could she forget those words, which had brought a new life in her?
“When the devil sees that all of his cruel, evil tactics had no use finally, he then attacks through his worst weapon. He makes you feel that you’re already religious and follows all the basics, but you should not go more into the religion and shouldn’t be an extremist. Oh yes, he sure tells you to keep a balance between the ‘world’ and your ‘faith. It is in fact a balance, but not between your world and the religion but it’s a balance between God and devil, which of course has no grounds at all. He wants you to place one of your feet in hell and the other one in the heaven at the same time. That’s his balance and that’s what being moderate means according to the evil devil.”
“Why don’t you stop saying the same thing again and again?” Deeba said to her younger sister.

Sheeba looked at her for a long moment, and then sighing she shrugged her shoulders. “You’ve become an extremist Deeba, a religious fanatic to an abnormal extent.”
“Wow,” Deeba couldn‟t help herself laughing on her remark. “When we are with the rest of the world in everything they do, they say we’re normal but as soon as we start following our Allah, everyone calls us an ‘extremist’ or an ‘abnormal’ person.”
“OK.” Sheeba gave her a determined look. “Do whatever you like.”
“That’s what I’m doing.” Today, Deeba’s smile was just as charming as she herself was. “I was wondering if you could follow the orders of our dear Prophet and Quran.” Deeba added in a low, impressive tone. “You’d look wonderful in Hijaab you know.”
Shocked, Sheeba stared at her for few seconds, and then began to laugh uncontrollably.
“Did I say something funny?”
“You can’t be serious. Are you?”
“Of course, I am.”
For an instant, Sheeba looked at her elder sister, trying to judge if she was really serious or not, but the sober expression on Deeba‟s face made her think twice about her statement.
“I just can’t do it.” She stated expressionlessly. “And you know that very well.”
“You’re very sure of yourself in disobeying your Allah and Prophet’s orders. Aren’t you?” Deeba asked, clearly disappointed, feeling sorry for her beloved sister.
“Well, our Allah and our holy prophet have ordered us for so many other things as well. Do we follow them all?” Sheeba asked sceptically.
“Wow, what a logic.” Now, it was Deeba’s turn to laugh. “Why don’t we stop following our religion at
all? That would be the best solution. No restrictions, no limitations, no hard and fast rules to follow upon.”
“Now.” Sheeba shifted her position on the sofa uncomfortably. “I didn’t say that.”
“We can at least try to adopt easy things first. If we can’t change the society, we can at least
change ourselves on individual level. Can’t we?”
Sheeba didn’t answer this time; she was lost in her deep thoughts.
“Just suppose for an instant, your dear Prophet, whom you respect you so much, is telling you, he is in front of you!” Deeba got closer to her sister. “Did you listen? He is here, asking you that why don't you obey his simple and plain order? Hmm?"
"Stop it, Deeba, it’s enough, " She hid her face in her hands, almost crying. “I...I will cry."



"Allah gave us so much, everything, parents, home, siblings, money, car everything. And yet what do we give Him in return?" Slowly, gently she ran her fingers through Sheeba’s soft hair.
"What's the use of us being Muslims then, if we can't put a simple piece of clothing around our head and body for Him?” Deeba looked deeply into her younger sister’s eyes, trying to search some traces of the effects of her words. “Is this our Islam? Do we love Him?”
"Yes I...I love Him." Sheeba said aloud. “I love my Allah.”
"Then why do you do the opposite?" Her smile broadened into something almost genuine.
“Funny it is.” Deeba laughed softly. “We believe in God…but don’t believe in what He says.”
She grinned and then added. “Just like, everybody wants to go to heaven, but nobody wants to die.”
“Don’t ever think Sheeba, that I am forcing you to do something you don’t want to. Such things should come by heart and naturally.” She caressed her sister’s face and brought a tissue to wipe the tears off.
“If you mind, I won’t say anything again on the topic. But I love you very much, and can’t see you burning yourself in the devilish fire of your materialistic desires.”
Sheeba raised her head finally, and turned her face to look into her sister’s beautiful eyes.
“I promise…” She finally said. “I’d try about Hijaab. I’d give it a try.”
“That’s the way of a good girl.” Deeba hugged her affectionately, her heart racing.
“Congratulations in advance for even thinking about taking such a great step.”
“But we also need proper atmosphere for that. Don’t we?” Sheeba questioned genuinely. “Our parents never told us the importance of Islam and Hijaab. They never educated us in this regard.” She said disappointedly. “It’s too late now, I suppose.”
“I’m from the same parents.” Deeba told her in a soothing voice. “There’s always a time. It’s never too late.”
“By the way, there’s a very interesting talk show on this weekend. They would telecast it live on T.V. Our School teacher Miss. Hijaab Zehra is representing those women who wear Hijaab.” Deeba told her sister happily.
“Really?” Sheeba asked, excited.
“Yes, and she’ll face Pakistan’s number one female debater, Sania Rubab who holds a totally opposite view on the subject.”
“Wow, what’s the topic?”
“It’s…. The question of Hijaab: suppression or liberation?"

Good morning beautiful pple . Ur update is nearly ready and will be hear in an hour or so

All those new pple around here, u r highly welcome. I hope Oga Mynd dey take gud care of u.
Thanks all for being here. Luv u all

SPLENDIDFLOZZY: .
Undage tak ur tym, dnt stres ursef at al. Al i knw is dat u always deliver wen eva u r chanced.... If u cnt update dis nite, no p i{we} wil wait patiently. #teamwaitpatiently#

Thnx dear. Thats a relief