Guest Blog

Sitting Next To The Hearth

December 7, 2017

Words Amatullah Z.  
Photograph Google


Amatullah is a theoretical physicist specializing in stellar astrophysics and cosmology, official international Book Fairy (@bookfairies_ke), Sam Kean and Sherlock fanatic and dabbler in the arts of philosophy. She lives on coffee and science, although she is hoping to try out Purple tea and see if that sways her to the light side.

It’s chilly; the cold weather seeping into the very rocks. Rain is pattering against the window panes. Lightning streaking across the skies.

Curled up in a blanket and sitting by the hearth, I clutch at a hot mug of cocoa. The steady ticking of the clock on the mantel both comforting and daunting. While my eyes stare at the flickering flames, they are unfocused as my brain drifts through thoughts and memories.

Time is fleeting. The sense of ‘now’ is fading into a blur of yesterdays. The sun rises and sets, today becomes history and unfolds like the tales of time. I am, becomes I was. The one thing that keeps moving forward is the most wished for to turn back like happens in science fiction.

Earth turns to plant, wood turns into fire, and fire turns into heat… I die and go back to the ground. Cycle repeats. Life only as meaningful as death. But life only more beautiful because of death.

As children, we can’t really imagine the infinity that comes with death. Either it’s a black abyss or a white landscape – I suppose the French word Blanc fits it well; blinding. When someone close to us dies, we are told “They went to Jannat.” and we shall follow them is not said but is ever implied.

Four years have passed since we got blinded. I remember shaking at the uncertainty. We had just been told that Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin RA had left for Jannat. For the first few minutes, we weren’t even immediately told, I think even those who knew didn’t know what to make out of it. It was an odd sort of lost, not being stuck with some bearing to make out of, but rather being lost in a place where you couldn’t make sense of anything, nothing under your feet, nothing around you, nothing above you – just loneliness at its absolute worst.

We went to masjid. We knew no one could console us, some took to silently crying with tears streaming down their faces huddled in a corner; some took to retelling every Zikr they knew of Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin RA, not completing any since it was impossible not to break down in tears; some wailed; some took a Quran, opened it only to find that the words were swimming and every letter reminded them that Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin RA, who taught them those very words wasn’t there. Even staring at the walls didn’t do anything but remind us of every time Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin RA lit up the masjid and all the mumineen with joy.

The clock ticked on, but the abyss remained.

And then the words came ringing through every nook and cranny- Mufaddal Maula ni live audio video relay che, jaldi masjid ma aawo! We came as fast as we could. No one speaking to anyone, no one even looking at one another – Mufaddal Maula was the only person who could console us, simply whom looking at would chase away the fog that covered us.

We sat; enraptured, crying, and seeing Burhanuddin Maula RA in his countenance. Seeing the red handkerchief in Maula’s TUS hands, not a word yet uttered, threw us into the throes of wails and crying all over again. No no, say it’s not true. Say it’s not true. Please. Please.

Four years have passed by, yet that memory is still fresh in my mind. Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin RA was the one who caressed my cheek when I was five. Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS was the one that guided me when I was lost at eighteen. Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin RA was the one who smiled at my antics in trying to climb above the podium due to my short stature before asking for one of the khidmat guzaars to pick me up and bring me closer for qadambosi at six. Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS smiled at me when I stuck iron filings on a magnet displaying the magnetic principle of physics at twenty. Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin RA was the one who taught me how to recite the Quran at seven. Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS is the one I hope to memorize the Quran for.

Both are the same. What I couldn’t accomplish for Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin RA, I strive to accomplish for Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS; as does every mumin and mumina. What life we never lived then has been granted to each of us by Syedna Mohammed Burhanuddin RA and Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS. We ate the most unhealthy of junk, now we eat from the thaal of FMB. We didn’t care about anyone besides ourselves, now we have maraq raqm being taken out of our savings willingly, to remind us others aren’t so lucky every single time we sit to eat in the thaals of Aale Mohammed. We spent our time pondering over world events, now we take an active part in being the most productive citizens we can.

We are followers of Syedna Mufaddal SaifuddinTUS, but he has made sure we don’t follow blindly, but in fact better seeing than anyone else in the world – for we know what comes after, and we know how to reach there because he has told us the answer to both of the biggest blinding questions to mankind – Where do we come from? and Where are we going to?

May Allah TA give us the strength to be better mumineen, to emulate our Mawali Tahereen as Syedna Mufaddal Saifuddin TUS guides us to do so every single day. May we be better with every dawn and dusk that passes us by.

May Allah TA grant our Maula, Syedna Mufaddal SaifuddinTUS a life as long as snow-capped mountains like Mont Blanc continue to inspire mankind. Ameen.



You Might Also Like

1 Comment

  • Reply Fatema August 5, 2020 at 6:01 am

    amazing, every word was so so moving

  • Leave a Reply