رہ گئے فقط آنسو اور اُکھڑتے سانس وہاں
جہاں تم  نے کبھی اپنی بانہوں کو پھیلا رکھا تھا

چلے گئے تم نہ کوئی خبر دی جانے کی
کہتے ہو کہ میرے خواب میں اشارۃً بتا رکھا تھا؟


بہتے ہوئے تنکے کی طرح نہ بہوں بتاؤ کیسے
تم نے جو ہمیشہ اپنے کاندھے چاڑھ رکھا تھا

کہتے ہیں سبھی کہ مجھے چین کیوں نہیں آتا
بتاؤں میں کیسے، کیا جو تم نے مجھے بتا رکھا تھا

زندگی کس قدر مہرباں تھی ہائے تب مجھ پر
جب تمہاری گرم آغوش میں سر چھپا رکھا تھا

اکتفاء کیسے ہو مجھے ان نامرد مردوں پر
چلنا جب سیکھا تو تمہارے پاؤں پر قدم جما رکھا تھا

کون بتلائے کہ میں سمجھ میں آنے کی نہیں ہوں مگر
تم  نے مجھے آنکھوں سے روح تک جان رکھا تھا

صِلہ نہ دے سکی کوئی، میں تمہاری بے لوث محبت کا
لہروں میں گھِری تھی میں جب موت نے تم کو تاک رکھا تھا

بہا لے گیا طوفانِ زندگی ہماری لازوال محبت بھی
ادھورا رہا خواب  جو تم نے آنکھوں میں چھپا رکھا تھا

ہرگز حیران نہ ہو یوں جو خدا مہربان ہو تم پر
یقین جانو! میں نے ہر بوند پر ہاتھ اٹھا رکھا تھا

I rejected the world

In a single shrug of worthlessness

Without thinking

Like dust I blew it under my feet

Like ash I made it useless for me

Proudly I chose God above all

Blamed so and so

Criticised thigh and thigh

Pointed fingers at every agressor

At everg opressor

Called out every falsehood

Claimed my loyality to all truth

Proud of myself

I ran and ran from the world

Took the sword in my iron hands

And waged war against all the lies

Slash by slash– cut by cut

Head by head

Killed all the vice

Untill no one was left

Not a single in sight

I stood there all alone

Full of pride, full of my might

Full of surety, no one lies

Between me and God

Only to stand there long enough to realize

There was truly no one anymore

But just me against my ownself

The battle before was so easy

Because I was against the all the devils

Yet now I encounter my own evil

And all of a sudden I found myself

Clueless as how to fight my ownself

And thats when I realized

The battle hadn’t ended

It had just begun

Me vs me

And just like that

for the first time in my life

I was truly humbled

پڑھ پڑھ عالم فاضل ہوئیوں
کدے اپنے آپ نوں پڑھیائی نہیں

You have read and read until you became learned and scholarly,
yet you have never read your own self.

جا جا وڑدا ایں مندر مسیتیں
کدے من اپنے وچ وڑیائی نہیں

You go again and again into temples and mosques,
yet you have never entered into your own heart.

ایویں روز شیطان نال لڑنے
کدے نفس اپنے نال لڑیائی نہیں

Every day, you fight against Satan,
yet you have never fought against your own nafs.

بلھے شاہ اسمانیں اڈدیاں پھڑنے
جیہڑا گھر بیٹھا اوہنوں پھڑیائی نہیں

Bulleh Shah, you try to catch the things flying in the sky,
yet you have never caught the one sitting within your own house.

— بلھے شاہ

Therefore, when you know you need something, and you want it really bad but you don’t inherently feel worthy of having it or somehow you have doubts if you could ever sustain having it or whether it's really for you?

You have to work past those beliefs. If you really want it you have to work past yourself to get it. You have to work around whatever comes in your way. Wether its people, systems, routines, your habits or your limiting beliefs. You have to find a way to work with yourself. That’s the only way to get there. To have it.

Most of us spend our lives living by the echoes of our past. Lost loves, opportunities, that betrayal, that evidence of lack of justice, love and kindness.
If we haven’t experienced love in its full glory, which many of us haven’t, we tend to feel never worthy of or even capable of receiving it.

But we all want and need it at the same time.

So for us to create a new reality for ourselves, personally, financially, or relationally, we need to work around our body and have it experience some love and acceptance from God. From the source of it all. We have to do it again and again until stories of the past lose their grip on us and possibilities of the future start to feel very real, very have-able, very deserving.

(Prayer for me is the biggest hack. Praying and feeling it at the same time. Praying as if the prayer is being accepted)

That's how we heal: we claim our space, our belonging, our right to exist in this world with love and abundance.

میں اس زندگی سے محبت کرنے لگتی۔ موت کو یاد نہ کرتی۔ میں شاید کبھی بھی اللہ کو خوش کرنے کی، اللہ کو سب سے بڑھ کر خوش کرنے کی کوشش ہی نہ کرتی۔

اگر مجھ سے کبھی کچھ نہ چھنتا تو میں جان ہی نہ پاتی کہ میں ہر اُس چیز، جگہ اور انسان کے بغیر کیا ہوں؟ کیا ہوں میں، جب کچھ باقی نہیں رہتا؟

جب ہر ہر پتہ درخت سے گر جاتا ہے تو ننگی شاخوں میں کتنی سچائی ہوتی ہے، کتنی گہرائی ہوتی ہے، کتنا ٹھوس لگتا ہے وہ درخت۔ میں جان ہی نہ پاتی کہ جب سب چلا جاتا ہے تب جو باقی رہتا ہے وہ انسان ہوتا ہے، اور اس کے ساتھ وہ ہوتا ہے جو تب بھی تھا جب سب تھے، مگر تب نظر نہیں پڑی تھی اُس پر۔

رب۔ جو ہمیشہ سے تھا، ہمیشہ سے ہے، اور ہمیشہ رہے گا۔ وہ شہ رگ سے قریب ہے۔ اس قربت کو میں اتنے شور میں محسوس کیسے کرتی؟

اگر انسانوں سے محبت مل جاتی، اگر میری جذباتی سب ضروریات پوری ہو جاتیں، میرے ماں باپ یا پھر شوہر سے، تو میں خدا کو کیوں تلاش کرتی؟ میں اُس کے در پر بار بار کیوں لوٹتی؟ پھر میں اُس سے اُس کی محبت اتنی شدت سے کیوں مانگتی؟ میں دنیا اور ما فیہا سے بے پروا ہو کر صرف اُس کی رضا کی طالب کیوں بنتی؟

اگر کوئی اور مجھے چاہ لیتا، مجھے دیکھ لیتا، مجھے اپنا لیتا، تو میں خدا سے کیوں کہتی کہ سب چھوڑ دیں مگر تم نہ چھوڑنا؟ سب چھوٹ جائیں مگر تم نہ چھوٹنا۔ سب ناراض ہو جائیں مگر تم نہ روٹھنا، کیونکہ میرے پاس تو سوائے تمہارے کچھ ہے ہی نہیں۔ فقط تم ہو۔ فقط تم۔ فقط تم-

تم ہی میرا صحرا تم ہی میرا پانی ہو
تم ہی میرا درد تم ہی میری دوائی ہو
تم ہی میری آس تم ہی میری رسائی ہو
تم ہی میری روداد تم ہی میری سنوائی ہو
تم ہی میرا مسکن تم ہی میری تنہائی ہو
تم ہی میری طلب تم ہی میری دہائی ہو
تم ہی میرا منظر تم ہی میری بینائی ہو
تم ہی میری منزل تم ہی میری رہنمائی ہو
تم ہی میرا دریا تم ہی میری پار اُترائی ہو
تم ہی میرا در تم ہی میری درکشائی ہو
تم ہی میرا بچھونا تم ہی میری اوڑھائی ہو
تم ہی میرا درس تم ہی میری ثنائی ہو
تم ہی میرا پڑھنا تم ہی میری لکھائی ہو
تم ہی میری وفا تم ہی میری بقائی ہو

یہی میری قسمت ہے۔ ٹوٹنا اور توڑے جانا۔ وہاں تک جہاں تک دل ایسا چھلنی ہو جائے کہ اُس میں کچھ باقی نہ رہے۔ وہ تمام تعلق اور محبتیں جو فانی ہیں، وہ آنسوؤں میں محلول ہو کر چھلنی سے بہ جائیں، اور پھر باقی رہے وہ ذات جو باقی رہنے والی ہے۔ لافانی ہے۔ وہ ذات جو کسی میں محلول نہیں ہو سکتی۔ جو ثابت ہے، ٹھوس ہے، کسی سراخ سے بہ نہیں سکتی۔

پھر اُس کے نور کی روشنی میرے دل کو بھر دے۔ اُس کو جوڑ دے، اس طرح کہ جیسے کبھی ٹوٹا ہی نہ تھا، یا اُس سے بھی زیادہ خوبصورت کر دے۔

پھر یہ روشنی میرے باقی تمام اعضا میں پھیل جائے۔ پھر میں بولوں تو اُس کا نام لوں۔ چلوں تو اُس کی طرف چلوں۔ رکوں تو اُس کی طرف چہرہ ہو۔ سنوں تو اُسی کے گُن سنوں۔ پھر میرا وجود میرا نہ رہے۔ اُس کی چلتی پھرتی نشانی بن جائے۔

اور جب تک میں وہاں نہیں پہنچتی، میری قسمت میں صرف ٹوٹنا لکھا ہے۔ صرف ٹوٹنا۔

تو بچا بچا کے نہ رکھ اسے تیرا آئینہ ہے وہ آئینہ
جو شکستہ ہو تو عزیز تر ہے نگاہِ آئینہ ساز میں

-علامہ اقبال

The rich think I am classy and sophisticated. The poor think I am humble and friendly. The smart think I am intelligent. The foolish think I am simple. The academic thinks I am literary. The non reader thinks I'm good at conversing. The lover thinks I am romantic. The pragmatic thinks I am factual.

The ocean thinks I am water. The land thinks I am earth. The wind thinks I am air. The fire thinks I am flame.

And between all black and whites I feel I am all the different shades of grey. Too many to be known, seen and held.

yet my heart yearns everyday waking day

and every closing night

for a heart

yet another

Big enough

that can hold

all my shades

Without me worrying

For they can be too much

So I can finally stop searching for myself in pieces

And be whole, wholly myself in his graces

So I can stop looking

For which colours of mine would so and so reflect

And see all the greys in one place

Being reflected against his grace

Forming my whole sketch

Through all his shades

And then sometimes I ask myself if what I seek is too idealistic? Sometimes I wonder even if its possible because the other side of the story is

Every interaction, every spoken word, every matched gaze, every hand shake, every touch carried meaning, carried depth. Just because I was met in pieces does not mean I wasn't met at all.

And these mundane meetings carried all the meaning and connection that has kept me alive untill now.

Why then I search for unity? And is unity possible? Or is it just a mirage that I would keep running after?

 
Running hard against time
Galloping hard against crime

Pulling hard on fastened reins
Holding hard for dear life

Tripping hard on ankles, blind
Falling hard into love's vine

Pushing hard against closed shrine
Pulling hard on your heart's chime

Hoping hard for final sunshine
Waking hard under stars' whine 

I never knew I could bear a new life out of me

A reality that didn’t exist before me

could come into being through me

I could be the portal for creation created by the Creator

An Art born out of flesh from the Almighty

I still had the cells though

Carrying genes that would define destiny

Simple compounds in complex arrangements

Ready to reorganize complicated world into simplicity

I never knew the path I was carving

Was a mere inspiration manifesting into reality

I carried the life in my belly

Unaware of it growing everyday in darkness of my mind

Within layers of darkness it grew and grew

Somewhere along it receieved the rooh

None of it was easy the months were filled with discomfort

I could barely walk, barely eat, I could barely even breath

The life was getting heavier by each day and night

It borrowed my blood and bones to come into day light

I carried it through sweat and pain

Keeping my eyes only on the rain

When I would recieve the life out of sheer suffering and endurance

Joy would be born

relief would sigh

love would bloom

Fixated on this vision I approached labour

Between life and death

I kept pateint through the dizzying waves of pain

My heart raced Legs trembled sweat dripped down my face

Still the weight didn't lessen even by a bit

For life to be born out of another life

Death had to be experienced in parts

So I died and died many times

I never though wished death in hopes of the new life

I kept reminding myself of the bliss that would come after

all of it was still not enough

I had urge to gather all my life force

And For the life of myself

Push with all the force I ever had or I will ever have

and let the life out of darkness into light

I let out the one and only final shreik

while I force pressed my lips together

And before I knew it

Before i even realized it

the life was there

In wonder and shock I held her

I held her in my arms

A soft delicate and beautiful life

I held her and felt like protecting her

loving her in my constant brace

preserving her delicate beauty

in a way mine was never protected

Never held

And never allowed to exist

I held her and in that moment

I felt like healing happening for my heart

That could have never happened without holding her

Without her coming into existence

From all the hard labour

Its an expression of both the life I am building for myself now and the child I desire for in my future self.

I have killed many versions of myself to be here and this period of life, it actually feels as painful and chaotic as pregnancy and childbirth.

I am in labour, I still have to push hard. I still have to brought forth whats inside of me into the outside world to change it in transformative and beautiful ways. Yet none of this is easy.

I barely walk, I barely eat I even barely breath.

I imagine death. I know it will all end. Yet I remind myself of the relief that is bound to come once that life is out of darkness in day light.

But it also signifies the baby girl I want and desire. A motherhood that would heal me bi"ithnillah

How long shall the world be deprived of my light
How long shall it take for life to return in my eyes

How long shall this heart take to revive
How long shall my smile travel from my lips to my eyes

How long shall the desert suffer in drought 
How  long shall I walk to hold you in my eyes

How long shall the dark night await the sunrise 
How long shall the stars wait for the spark in my eyes

 How long shall the heart ache in silence 
How long  till your eyes speak with my eyes

How long shall the lips seal themselves
How long till storms flow from my eyes

repition of "my eyes" in the ending of each couplet is inspired by urdu poetry tradition where a repeated refrain (called radif) is used often used in the endings, often preceded by a rhyming word (kafiyah) which I have not been consistent with due to the limitations of english language. 

Today my mom said to me while I was washing dishes beside her as she cooked chicken handi in this scorching heat of around 40 degrees somewhere

Tum dekhna maha tumhari kismat naheen badlegi, loog badal jayengy qismat wohi rahegi.

And before she had finished the sentence, I was already speaking in a kind of subtle laugh, “Ammi meri kismat badlygi ap kesi baatein kar rahi hain?”

It was the same kind of laugh that I had given when the first time I got divorced, and we were sitting at the dining table of my grandmother’s house

She said

Maha ahsaan (ex-husband’s name) ny tumhari zindagi barbaad kardi

And I had replied with the same kind of amusement, disbelief, and utmost conviction that

“Ammi ahsaan k paas itni taqat kahan hai k woh meri zindagi barbaad kr saky? Wo aik insaan meri pori zindagi kesy barbaad karsakta hai? “

While I had thorough conviction that my life and its course is ultimately defined by Allah,

She replied, “Tum naheen samajhti men kiya keh rahi hun,” and something in me also understood that she also doesn’t understand what I mean.

You could say that I was delusionally positive a decade ago because I was in my twenties. I thought I could have done anything and achieved anything, and the world was wide and rich, and I could find my share in it. I could live so many other lives. If this version of life isn’t meant for me, then certainly I would find what’s meant for me.

Almost 10 years later, I am yet here with the not-so-different scenario, facing divorce again. A lot of things are similar except my age. 10 years have passed, and I feel like this divorce has put me more behind everyone else, poorer, less resourceful, with even little time left for me to get back into the race of life and make something out of it.

Yet the delusional trust, as some people would call it, is still there.

And the reason I write this post is to let others know as well that, after all, this trust is not as delusional as it seems on the surface. In fact, on the contrary, it is quite realistic.

I know why my mom said it to me, so I replied, making it as simple as possible, finding as few words as I could to explain it to her:

“Ammi, kismat insaan ki es liye hoti hai k woh kuch sabaq seekh ley, aur jab woh insaan woh sabaq seekh leta hai, tu qismat badal jati hai.”

By this time, she had realized the slip that had occurred, and she immediately said,

“Han, tum theek keh rahi ho,” with a hint of quiet resignation.

I added, to validate her:

“Ap apny experience sy bat kar rahi hen.”

And she said, “Han, bilkul 100 fisad (percent).”

Yes, exactly, 100%.

“Allah kary tumhari qismat badal jaye. Tumhary sath tu maan baap ki dua hai. Mery sath to woh bhi naheen thi. Mujhy kiya milega es duniya men.”

I felt the gravity of what she said and also realized that the inherent sense of self-worth that my father gave to me was indeed a gift. That even though I faced too many hardships and relational suffering after that throughout my life, those first few years of cherishing and making me feel important, loved, and valued is something my mother never received, and so I can really not, at some level, understand her struggles and perhaps not blame her for not learning the lessons and continuing to live the same life.

She also added, “Shyd tumhari qismat badal jaye, kyun k Dr. Farhat Hashmi kehti hen har insaan ka imtehan alag hota hai, har kisi ki capacity alag hoti hai, esliye uska imtehan alag hota hai.”

And I readily agreed, thinking to myself that perhaps her test is to really live inside an abusive relationship like Aasiya A.S., who lived with Firaun.

But the resignation is something I am not letting myself accept at any cost and something I am very uncomfortable with, so after a couple of minutes I added,

“Insaan ko jo sab sy bari takat Allah Ta’ala ny jo di hai woh uska dimagh hai. Kyun k dimagh badal sakta hai. Kyun k dimagh badal sakta hai, esliye usku badal kar ap duniya men kuch bhi kar sakty ho.”

Ammi said, “Haan, ye tu hai.” She is a medical doctor, so she understands biology language.

I added, “Apky saath bachpan men jo bhi hua, bary ho kar ap apny dimagh ko badal sakty ho.”

Meaning you have your existing neural pathways, but you can actually build new neural pathways above that, which means new ways of thinking, which will translate into new ways of behaving and eventually can translate into a new life for you.

The neuroscience of change

So, for me, I believe that once you have the will to do something because you have gone through so much pain that it’s no longer possible for you to continue the same life,

and then you have the understanding that you can do it, meaning you believe that it’s possible for you, and then you take the actions to do it, it happens over time.

What gets in the way is mostly the thoughts, the feelings that it is not possible, that I can’t do it for this or that reason, that it doesn’t happen always for this or that reason. But once you become conscious of those thoughts, once you start breaking your thoughts down into the ones that help you and are true and into the ones that don’t help you and are necessarily not true, then you can begin to work in ways that you couldn’t before.

You can leave the job, the relationship. You can work towards a passion or towards finding love because you know you could find it.

Once you work through your worth and deservability of that which you want, you can truly make yourself ready to receive it.

And then, when you take action and you sometimes fail, you again work through those thoughts that tell you you can’t/won’t do it for so and so reason and keep the possibility of it happening alive.

You can eventually get somewhere.

Listen, that’s how most successful businessmen have grown. They didn’t let failure define them. That’s how people who live in happy marriages found their mate. They didn’t accept what was wrong or below their standards and managed to finally find their way.

Then the second piece of the puzzle is really dua. Asking Allah SWT, the Giver and the Owner of all things. You ask and ask and keep asking. Notice the preconditions of your asking.

Asking means that:

You really want that thing.

You believe that Allah has the power to give you and that He can give you.

You are thereby making yourself deserving of being given.

You are making yourself ready to receive.

And when you are putting yourself in that right mindset and energy by asking,

obviously you will strive more towards getting it. You will take the risk, grab the opportunity when it comes. By asking dua, you are training your will.

And will is what will push you forward.

The third piece of the puzzle is action.

Allah asks you to take action even when you think the results aren’t coming. He asks Musa to hit on the sea, not because the hitting will do the parting, but because action and obedience do count. Ultimately, it’s His Kun that will work, but it won’t work until you keep obeying Him and taking the action within your limits and capabilities.

He asks Maryam to shake the tree even as she is going through labour. He could have made the dates fall on their own, but that’s what Allah SWT is telling us through these stories: that miracles do happen in this world, but they do happen disguised in the mundane efforts of everyday people doing mundane things every day.

That step, that leap, that dropping of one negative thought, that feeling of gratitude over what you already have can change your life in ways that seem extraordinary.

What is extraordinary, at the end of the day, than ordinary who refuses to stay ordinary?

The last piece of the puzzle

By saying all of this, I don’t mean that you control your destiny and your life.

For the life of me, I don’t mean that.

Your life and its story are not in your hands, at least most of it. The plot isn’t yours, but the will is.

The creativity and the freedom to still find your way within that plot are yours.

You know He is there. He has written your story, and it has meaning.

You know He created you for purpose. You know what happens is in your best interest and is taking you and preparing you towards your purpose, towards your unique role on this planet Earth.

You know that He is always making you the truest version of yourself by putting you into this classroom of life.

And the way you respond to your experiences, relationships, and circumstances, and the lessons you learn or refuse to learn, ultimately define who you are more and more until you become what you were meant to become all along.

And then you do what you were meant to do all along, and then, when you have finished your business on this earth, you die.

Not all people become the best versions of themselves. Some become the worst they could. Some stay in the middle. Some stay dormant and die useless.

But all of it defines how you are going to live in the next world, which is never going to end.

All of this defines how valuable and lovable you would be in the sight of the One who created you, even though He knew your value and your lovability even before He created you.

But He sent you on this earth so you would live and choose and show and prove your value and your lovability, and then He would grace you with His mercy and with His abundance in His final abode.

But the defining characteristic of your creation and existence is the will He gave you.

And because of that will, you aren’t stuck with the life you have. Instead, your life is stuck with you until you are breathing.

So why not make the most of this thing called living while we live, because after all, it’s only once that we are to live on this beautiful planet called Earth.

Gratefulness

One of the surest ways of reengineering your life very radically is practicing gratefulness. I am saying this as someone who has symptoms of ADD (my hyperactivity lives in my thoughts), has gone through persistent chronic trauma in my childhood and adulthood, so I have symptoms of CPTSD for sure, though I have never gone for a diagnosis because, for the most part, I have been working on managing those symptoms and my life around them rather than managing my identity around those symptoms.

I don’t like diagnosis for this reason. It is good if it helps you understand and name the process, thereby helping you manage the areas where it might be causing you trouble, but a diagnosis becomes bad if you start defining or even paralysing or limiting yourself based on that diagnosis.

e.g. I can’t focus because I have ADD. What can be more helpful is to say, “It’s difficult for me to focus on something I am not particularly interested in, but how can I help myself do it if it’s necessary?” Then working on your environment or your routine, your diet, and your sleep can help you immensely. Or even choosing well what to focus on can make a big difference. Setting up for yourself a reward can make a big difference, so on and so forth. Everyone knows that and what can help them.

Coming back to my point, having gone through trauma and having symptoms of CPTSD and ADD make me really great at thinking negative thoughts, imagining worst-case scenarios, and, of course, blaming myself for never being good enough because, guess what, as a child, when you cannot comprehend why bad things happen to you, your brain always finds it safer to blame your own self than the people you depend on for your survival, i.e. your parents.

Also, having lived under constant threat to one’s safety, emotional or physical (because the body does not differentiate between emotional and physical pain/threat), the brain alarm system, the threat detection system, learns to work overtime. Think about the cave man who always had to be on guard against predatory animals, how his brain is primed to look for danger, how his ears can hear a hint of footsteps from miles away, how his eyes are always wandering to check if there is someone around, and how his feet are ready to run at any time, and how his hands are ready to shoot the arrow almost abruptly. That’s how it feels to live in fight or flight. That’s how a person looking seemingly normal can be working overtime in their brain to dissect every conversation, to look closely at every gaze, to suspect beneath the words manipulation, a lie, a selfish desire, or the fear of being abandoned anytime, or the fear of their fears and vulnerabilities being preyed upon.

God, how do I stay on the topic?

The negative thoughts, yeah, I just explained a bit how negative thoughts are my go-to thing.

Mery saath aisa kyun hua

Mere saath aisa hi hoota hai

Mery saath aisa hi hoga

There is some truth to this when a person has experienced trauma for a long time. This is their experience, and they come to believe it unless they think otherwise consciously, and that is where gratitude practice comes in.

Gratitude rewires your brain for thriving

Human life is mostly about surviving, and the human brain is mostly primed for surviving. That’s the reason we tend to focus more on the negative events, happenings, thoughts, attitudes, and behaviours of people unless, of course, we consciously focus on the positives, and that’s what gratitude does to us.

For me, gratitude comes from knowing God. Not just knowing Him as in He exists somewhere, but knowing Him as in who He is, how He is, His Majesty, His benevolence, His abundance, His Rahma, His being ever-present, ever-holding, ever-doing, in ways that are not always evident. And so each happening in my life is tied to Him. What He gave, what He withheld, what He withdrew has purpose and is in my best interest, and I am grateful for it.

I am grateful for being given the opportunity to explore life, from the peak of joy to the depths of agony, from the shrieks of pleasure to the shrieks of terror, from the sinking in grief to the flooding in happiness. I have lived life, I have experienced it, I have loved, lost, and learnt through all of it.

And I am grateful for it.

But listen, these thoughts are coming as I am writing now; they aren’t my go-to thoughts. I started practicing gratitude just recently after reading through a friend’s post and listening to some brain gurus who are doing it just for the sake of improving their lives.

I woke up one morning and thought to myself, what can I be grateful for today? Then came the thoughts one by one.

I have freedom to do what I want. I am beginning to feel brackets of happiness after months of grief. I can still live. In fact, I feel more alive than ever. I have hope. I can hope...

And that brings me to my next point, which is I don’t think it’s possible to be grateful without the possibility of hope.

The belly of hopelessness

It’s dark. It’s pitch dark. It’s a no-way-out feeling. No matter what I do, I am stuck. I was being pulled into a relationship that ate me day and night. That snatched from me the very thing Allah distinguished me from the angels with: my free will. The will to do. The will to think. The will to be. With all the force they had in their hands, they were twisting and turning and holding me to control me somehow, and when I was calling for help, when I was trying to run, when I was trying to walk on my terms, on my own feet, when I was complaining, I was being called ungrateful.

Ungrateful because I had food to eat, 24/7 running water, an air conditioner for summers, a heater for winters, sometimes a vacation here and there. I had everything, seemingly, but I could not be grateful for any of it because, no matter how hard I tried, I wasn’t able to be a separate human with dignity and needs in that relationship. And so, because my needs weren’t met, because I didn’t have a basic sense of self, and because if I lived in that situation, I could not hope for a better future because I had already tried everything that was in my power, I was not being grateful in those moments. Instead, I was being very unhappy.

I remember this specific time when my FIL had shouted at me, and I had answered him back and then ran downstairs in tears. Later, my mother-in-law followed me to tell me that I have such a beautiful kitchen and such a beautiful home, yet I cannot be grateful for it. And I saw around after she left and thought to myself, how meaningless are the things that I am told to find meaning in?

For me, no matter how beautiful a basement could be, it was the worst place on earth to live in because of how distant I was from nature there, and you all know how much I love nature. Sunlight, sky, trees, and birds—I could see and hear none!

Anyhow, I couldn’t practice gratefulness until I moved out of that house, reclaimed my sense of self, and, most importantly, my free will.

Here I am living in a house that is nowhere even comparable to that house in its build, beauty, luxuries, or facilities, but still I am able to practice gratitude, Alhamdulillah, because I chose it for myself and I still have the free will for myself and my son. Alhamdulillah.

Having said all of this does not mean that I don’t go into spirals of negative thinking sometimes. When I am feeling low, I have a few thoughts here and there, but I am able to redirect mostly. Sometimes a walk in nature would help me to feel better and think straight. Sometimes it can be cathartic venting with one of my friends. Sometimes it can even be writing a poem or coming here and writing something. But the key is to let myself think positively, be grateful, even when I am grieving. It becomes a very authentic, radical kind of grieving. I can be sad over what harm others have inflicted upon me. I can cry over the fact that I opened my heart to them and they weren’t able to hold it. Instead, they used it against me, and that’s it. I can cry over it.

And then I can turn around and see the bright pink flower in my backyard, or I can watch the starry sky at night and know that beauty exists and that beauty can come towards me too.

After all, the art of life is to thrive within surviving.

Empathy is a heavy and rare currency in the world. I did not know that until I needed it the most. Most people are careless and clueless about others’ emotions. It is what makes us human, yet it is so rare. Everybody is floating in their own world. I was so busy distributing love all my life that I never realized it was a very rare gift to have unless there came a time when I became susceptible to wanting humanness, empathy, love, and care from those around me.

Divorce is a big change. One of the changes it accompanies is that it makes you feel very vulnerable and susceptible. I have been divorced two times. Both times I have felt my garment torn away from me, leaving me almost naked until I run around in disbelief and shock, in grief and loss, trying to find something to cover me. Especially if you are a woman, you don’t lose just the man, you lose the life you had built around him, with his family, friends, in his house, in his city, or even in his country. Like a tree ripped of its roots and forced to grow somewhere else. Your home, means of finance, everyday routine, everything changes, even where you get groceries from becomes a new question and a problem to be taken care of. It’s not easy.

In those moments, I needed my loved ones to be graceful, warm, and helpful towards me. Yet most acted unbothered. Some needed me to move on. Others got triggered with my absence and withdrew more, and yet some even took their chance to make me feel even littler so they could feel a bit better about themselves.

I was never this devastated in my life as I am right now. Not because it is my second divorce, but also because I am tired of one blow after the other until I see no way forward.

I know how I am carrying myself through all the grief. Not just the grief of this divorce, the life I left behind, and the life I could not live, but the grief of all the past life that led me to this relationship that was not the relationship I would have signed up for had the circumstances not been such.

The grief of the first betrayal I experienced, and how I got into that marriage as well. The grief of being left alone in my vulnerable years as a child. The grief of being emotionally abandoned and gaslighted by the ones who were supposed to protect me as a child, when I was abused sexually, while being emotionally manipulated to surrender to the abuser.

The grief of not being able to experience the love of a father and mother in a home. To be deprived of love, safety, and security as a child. to have cried for those things you deserved.

The grief of not being given the opportunities to grow and become who I wanted to become, despite my talents, my brain, and my beauty that I wanted to bring to the world.

The grief of trying hard all my life to make it meaningful, to make use of the potential Allah SWT gave me, to serve Him best, to make this world a better place, to do something meaningful, yet being ridiculed, minimized, always misunderstood and ignored, thinking I am too idealistic or just a fool. Maybe I am, I’m not sure.

The grief of choosing my profession in human development, in psychology, in tarbiyah, with the intent of solving problems for the world by marrying religion with psychology, but not being able to explain my intent to anybody and hearing constantly that I am wasting my life, my time, due to my stubbornness and hard-headedness.

The grief of not being able to achieve and have in my life what I so badly strived for all my life: a family, a warm family, a meaningful career, something that would ground me, provide space for growth, and work toward Allah, yet being let down again and again and again until I am at point zero and on the verge of failing and losing it all completely because that is how life and my mental health are suffering right now.

And yet no one around me wants to accept or realize or give grace that things are different for me, that nothing anymore is the same. That I too am human. That I too have limits. That I too can get tired. All I am is a discomfort to them in their everyday normal lives because I am sad.

I keep my sadness to myself then because, to me at least, it is a part of me I cannot ignore. But then today someone had the audacity to rub my wounds in my face, saying I am studying at a university that has no value, a subject that has no value, and a degree that has no value. Therefore, I am supposed to work and do the chores because my studies do not matter anyway.

That was the breaking point for me.

For days I have been feeling heavy, processing and carrying my feelings all alone while being there for everybody’s needs.

Just today I journaled that there is a very fine line for me to stay sane and to keep walking toward my vision, toward my Allah, in whatever capacity I have. That fine, bleak, and narrow line requires me to be very strict with my day and night, with hours and seconds, with what I think and what I do not allow to occupy my mind. A very fine line that helps me stay positive for the future. That makes me believe in the power of Allah’s “Kun” and His ability to change my life, and a very fine line in knowing that He has His reasons for whatever I went through and whatever I am going through, and that there is a possibility of relief somewhere, at least with death.

There is still a possibility to have a good life even when all the proofs have been against it all my life up until now.

A very fine line before I fall from the sirat of hope, stop walking toward my Eden, and fall into the hell of hopelessness and despair. A very fine line where I stop working, lose my trust, and give up on life.

I worked out that fine line for myself and felt a bit alive and sleepy afterward, just the kind of sleep you have after a long day at work.

But they broke that line for me with their words, and I fell.

I fell hard.

I cried and cried and cried and shouted silently into my pillow. And while I was crying, I realized something new.

I do not belong here.

I am not sure if it is a thought that has come to protect me or what, but I realized that I have long been a misfit in this world that is around me. Allah’s world is not small. If this world cannot see me, know me, and appreciate me for who I am, then I do not belong here. Perhaps I never did. Maybe physically I do, but spiritually, even intellectually, I do not belong here.

I belong somewhere else.

I am not sure where. I am not sure if I would ever get there or not. I am not sure if I would ever again be able to get on the fine line. But right now I have fallen into the hell of anger, despair, bitterness, and withdrawal.

I am not sure how I will creep upwards again.

I pray to Allah. I pray to shield me, protect me, to cover me and to hold me, to provide me safety and grant me a place of resting.

A maskan.

Ameen.

It looks like I decided to make a shift in my life or the shift happened internally and that required me to make the shift externally but I didn't realize that the after effects would be visible in almost every relationship I have.

I didn't let go of the man I was married to. I just let go of the woman he was married to. I divorced the version of me that shrank to make people stay, that compromised to stay love-able, that shrank to stay safe, that believed that If I am pleasing enough I will be safe enough.

Letting her go also meant that my ex-husband wouldn't walk with the newer version of me because to him the only version he knew and was happy to live with was the old one. He tried all he could in whatever way he could to pull me back into my older version by threatening, by bribing, by begging, by rewarding the older version because it was this version of me that He knew to be “me” to be “his wife,” but I couldn't. I just couldn't become the older me.

I broke the chains of fear that held me. The fear of being left alone, the fear of being disliked, the fear of financial sustainability, the fear of being abandoned, the fear of not being good enough, the fear of being called a divorcee again, the second time, the fear being suspected as an uncompromising, home-breaking woman, the fear of being seen as an ungrateful, arrogant rebel, the fear of being seen as an conflict lover woman.

These fears didn't leave, they are here as a part of me, I honour my desire to be liked and validated but these fears no longer hold me by the chains.

The only fear that has the capacity and the permission to hold me is the fear of Allah now.

But leaving behind the older version of myself came with a lot of change and a lot of grief. Leaving a home, people, stuff, lifestyle, and community behind, that you know you might never visit again isn't easy. Starting over isn't easy. Seeing people you left back home have moved on and the spaces you left empty being filled now as you come back isn't easy. Making your space all over isn't easy.

It came with ALOT of grief and the thing with grief is that it doesn't know any boundaries. When one file opens up, when you are grieving an event, you don't kust grieve that specific event. You grieve all and everything at once. All the files open up at once. You remember your childhood traumas and what made you come here. What made you face all you faced, become all you became. You grieve the lost opportunities. The unfulfilled dreams. You grieve the people who lef you mid way. The people who didn't show up. The people you wanted to hold onto but abandoned you anyway. The people you wanted to care for you but didn't. You grieve who you could have become and what you could have achieved if all of it didn't happen. You grieve the past. You grieve the present. You grieve the future.

You grieve the places you once associated with and the feeling of belonging with. The utensils you used to cook in. The kitchen you could be all creative in. The routine that was yours. The people you loved.

You grieve the not enough support you have while you rebuild from the ashes.

And in all of this grieving, you realize that most friends and family aren't comfortable with this grieving version of you.

Everyone is at different stages of their life and very few if any are able to meet you where you are at.

Those who want to enjoy life are frustrated with your absence.

Those who are uncomfortable feeling sad are quick to ask you to move on, get over and put yourself together for life.

Those who are self-absorbed aren't willing to provide any space for your hurt because it would require them to fill in the roles you perform.

Those who are so used to getting your support, your ears, your warmth are angry that you don't have the capacity to provide it anymore and think you just changed and care not anymore.

Those who are used to your presence whenever they asked for it are disappointed with your absences and your saying no to plans.

Everyone wants the version of you that they had all their life. They are okay with providing some support, acknowledging some grief may be for a day, for a week but more than that? If you want to sit in your grief for months or years. No one has that patience. For them, you “just changed.”

And because you changed, the relationship changes as well.

And that’s how you end up losing many relationships, family, and friends to grief.

When I withdraw is when I am feeling worst. When I am so deep in misery that it’s almost impossible for me to crawl up. And that’s the time the world blurs. That's the time people get fed up with me sinking and leave me there to drown in my sadness not because they are bad people but just because they are “people”.

Every human at one point has to put themselves above the other. Everyone had their own life. They simply can't meet you all the time where you are at.

Especially people who haven't experienced grief in their life as you have would never ever be able to relate to you and that alienates them from you as well.

And thats how you end up losing company and relationships you once had to grief.

but in darkest deepest, loneliest valleys of grief something beautiful also happens. You realize a presence that was and is there for you. A witnessing that is happening all the time without any effort. An acceptance that only requires your loyalty but doesn't care about your state however low it may be. An embrace that is ever warming and enwrapping. A gaze that is all the time fixed on you. A companion whom you cannot separate from. A listener you don't have to wait to speak to. A power that has no limitations. A grace that is ever graceful. A loyalty that is unprecedented. A care that is not measured. A hand that never gets tired. Eyes that never stop seeing. Light that knows no darkness.

It is God that you find to— grief

تو بچا بچا کے نہ رکھ اسے ترا آئنہ ہے وہ آئنہ
کہ شکستہ ہو تو عزیز تر ہے نگاہ آئنہ ساز میں
علامہ اقبال –

And when you find God is when you find yourself once again, all over again– to grief

Glory be to the one who heals by breaking, holds by shaking, gives by taking. Glory be to Him who runs to the walker, responds to the talker, stabilizes the earth through violent quaking.
–Saad Yacoob

میری زندگی میرے ہاتھ میں کتنی تھوڑی ہے
گزر جائے یہ دن بھی پچھلوں کی طرح، کیا ضروری ہے؟

جو حاصل نہ ہوئے خواب، وہ ٹوٹ جائیں
پر ٹوٹ کر بکھرنا بھی مجبوری ہے

کوئی راہ نہیں، راہ گزر نہیں، پھر بھی سر بستہ ہوں
ہم جیسے فقیروں کا کوئی ٹھکانہ تھوڑی ہے

زندگی گزر رہی نہ کردہ گناہوں کا کفّارہ بھرتے
کون جانے ہماری پیدائش گناہ تھوڑی ہے

ٹوٹا ہوا تارا ہوں جو فلک سے آ گرا زمین پر
میرے آنسوؤں سے آسمان کا تڑپنا بھی ضروری ہے

رہ گئ ہوں دنیا کی بھیڑ میں کہیں پیچھے
جو دوڑ رہے ہیں آگے اُن سے پوچھو کہاں جانا ضروری ہے؟

آئینے میں خود کو دیکھوں تو پہچانتی نہیں ہوں میں
میں کون تھی، کون ہوں، کون ہوں گی کل — ایک پہیلی ہے

آج ہوں تو نظریں بھر کر دیکھتا نہیں کوئی
جو دیکھ لے پھر بھی پا جائے میرے راز کوضروری ہے؟

کل نہ ہوں گی تو یاد کریں گے سب مجھ سے رونق تھی
ارے رونق کی آج مجھ کو بھی ضروت  تھوڑی ہے؟

کیوں زمین نہیں پھٹتی، کیوں آسمان نہیں لرزتا
یہاں ظلم کی داستاں پھر دہرائی جائے، ضروری ہے؟

درد کو اپنے لفظوں میں پروتی رہی ہوں مسلسل
یہ پتھر سینے پر ہی رہے، ایسی ہی مجبوری ہے

لہروں سے لڑ لڑ تھک چکی ہوں میں اب
موت کی آغوش میں پر آ جائے آرام کیا ضروری ہے؟

I apologize for the background noise and the bad audio quality in the voice over. I felt like reciting this poem today. My room is actually on the road. You can hear Karachi traffic lol!

The morning started nice and slow. I was happy, energetic, and excited. I decided to catch up on some studies. I opened up my laptop, decided to watch a recording of my last IFS class, in which I could not focus much due to my own shenanigans and guests coming.

Then I remembered the tajweed class I need to catch up on. Then I opened up my university portal and realized we are three weeks into the semester, the quizzes, assignments, and then midterms are coming, and I haven’t really studied at all.

Then I was really overwhelmed. I journaled a bit and realized my anxiety is also because I need to work—my savings are not going to last forever. And obviously, I have to travel, study, and take care of myself and my son.

If I study, then I don’t get time for my research work, which is what I need to get done before I start working again. I need to come up with something comprehensive because it’s not just about money, and I need real change to happen in real lives. It’s about my purpose in life.

So then we went ahead and made a plan that basically needs me to study first, catch up on all the things I am behind on, then after finals, I start working on my book and somehow finish it before the start of next semester, and then during the semester I launch my course. And that is how I began working. Then the sessions, the one-on-ones, the transformative work can go alongside studies.

Then I also gave thought to the fact—what if I get married in between? I mean, if that happens, then obviously everything is negotiable. I think I would still not compromise the studies or work; I can, I would be able to manage that. But again, I need to be more compassionate with myself if I don’t, and remind myself that it’s not a race. Yes, I feel behind, but that’s okay. We are going somewhere, and we will reach in time, IA.

I then realized that I am very overwhelmed and anxious, and I need to help myself feel more grounded again, so I resort to prayer to hand over my worries to Allah SWT. I connected with the source of all benefit, the one in control, the one who has the keys to everything in the heavens and the earth. I asked Him to take care of my affairs, to give me coolness of eyes from my children and spouse, to grant me a good partner, to not ever let me be dependent on anyone other than Him.

To You I worship, to You I belong, to You I ask, my Rabb—never let me ask anyone but You. Never make me mohtaaj of anyone but You. That gave me tears.

Also, as I was praying, my thoughts drifted towards accountability and repair. That’s something I want to share with you all.

I wrote a bit about it in my post about what you should look for in a person for marriage, but I want to expand a bit on it so you can see and know how to look for it.

So I kind of got to know it by experience. My ex-husband had almost zero accountability, and that inflicted havoc on my nerves. Not only that, but it eroded our relationship over time, because as much as I continued to forgive him, to explain and excuse him in my mind, and to resolve the conflict every time on my own in my mind, over time the lack of any regard or change from his side—despite me communicating non-stop about my needs and preferences—made me realize that I cannot survive like this all my life. That it’s not a two-way relationship. That it’s only me filling all the gaps that he left.

I not only gave and fulfilled him, but the act of giving itself gave me a sense of fulfillment, because I am a natural giver and I truly enjoy giving. It didn’t seem like a big deal on most days, and I would compensate for him, his family not giving us anything, by over-giving everyone and then feeling good about it—because yeah, everyone would be happy, and we would feel some sense of family, right?

But it was those days when the conflicts arose, when somehow my needs conflicted with theirs, that they became so selfish, so cruel, so defensive, so dismissive, that I would feel the gaping hole our relationship had.

The more I explained my needs, the more I was gaslit. The more aggressively I would put my foot down, the more backlash, the more push I would get. And in the end, I would end up adjusting again somehow.

Most of all, there would be zero change from their side. No matter how much I needed something, I would be ignored if I stayed silent or spoke nicely. “Oh yeah, we can,” “we will,” or “we will see,” “it’s not the right time,” and so on—phrases like this would be used to play on my patience again.

The only time I would see change or new things happening was when there was a genuine desire from my end to just walk out—like when I knew this is not going to work this way, and if it is, then I would prefer moving out. But even then, the change would not be lasting. As soon as I was hooked, things would get back to the “old normal” again.

Over time, I could see the change wasn’t because I was cared for—it was because I needed to be kept, to serve them in ways that I used to.

When I came here to Pakistan and first started living with my brother, I was really in my fight-and-flight at that point. I was intensely grieving, very fearful, and also very assertive of my needs. He also wanted to care for me and take up some responsibility, but having his own limitations, he would often not be able to help me in ways that I would want him to. Even when he would, he would sometimes be annoyed or exhausted, mostly because our routines—wake-up and sleep timings—are almost opposite.

There was this push and pull, and we had a few fights. I could not take his raised voice at me at all, or even his annoyance towards me, and I burst into tears—not just because of his behavior, but because of the place he held in my heart, the expectations I had of him, and everything else that I was carrying in my heart those days.

A complete change of atmosphere. Grieving my old home, friends, my setup, my kitchen, my walks, my son’s school, my mother-in-law passing away, finally realizing that my husband—even having everything in his hands—was still not taking up any responsibility to change to save our relationship, and that my last hope—that maybe the pain of leaving him would force him to change—was failing.

That it might not work out after all, ever. And that I may never meet him again.

I mean, so on and so forth—it was a very difficult time. My sister-in-law isn’t used to managing the house, being the youngest in her siblings, so I was also taking care of the household and cooking most of the time. I also hid my emotions, and because they would be sleeping, they did not know that I would be crying and cooking.

There were times when I ruined the food as well, and they just didn’t seem to have as much empathy for me as I wanted from them. So I lost it at times, and my brother did too.

I went to my mom’s and felt more empathized with there, and so I stayed there for the time period of my iddah, because he eventually divorced me by then. (I mean, through all this period, he had sent messages many times, and one time I also thought a conditional divorce had happened, because he told me when I was leaving Canada that if you leave now, our marriage ends, and things like that. So I was confused, and he was also confusing me and threatening me on purpose so that I may change my decision and come back to save my marriage. But now finally he sent me the consulate papers, so I was legally and irrevocably divorced—according to all schools of thought except some Salafis.)

So I stayed with my mother, and now recently I came back again to settle here in Karachi for my son’s education and socializing primarily.

Now I was in a bit better position emotionally, and I made some changes internally to decide what not to do to have any further conflicts. I also observed changes in my brother’s behavior this time.

I realized that because I came back after a long time and he really wanted to treat me well, he did more than maybe he could. And after all, we are now two different families living under one roof—one being me and my son, the other being my brother, my sister-in-law, and now we have our little prince here too.

I realized that we both had stepped over each other’s boundaries a bit. I asked maybe a bit too much, and he was also asking from me a bit too much at times. Then we didn’t have patience towards each other because of the right we were assuming on each other, hence the conflicts that were arising.

Also, he is not very emotionally attuned towards me, and especially he is not appreciative or understanding of the grief that I am or would go through, because in his mind he thinks that what happened was for my own good, that I should move on, that I am not a powerless girl, I am educated, I can lead a good life, and that I had nothing to lose—they, on the other hand, who left me, lost a lot. He said these things to me, and I get that—but he doesn’t get that getting all these things doesn’t make the grief any lesser. So I had to understand that part of him and understand that I can look elsewhere for emotional support.

So we created some distance, lessened expectations. I also observed that he is more cautious around me—like he would not say, or at least be mindful when expressing his frustration over anything. He would talk more groundedly, and he even mentioned to me that he would not do anything like that again. I mean, that was a blamy apology, starting with “tumhara dimagh kharab hai,” but anyways, the behavior change that I saw in him is something that I wasn’t used to seeing.

This is what makes the difference. This is what tells you if the relationship would work over the long term or not. The connection, the chemistry—everything on one side—and repairing conflict on the other side. Not so much what they say, even though it matters, but more than that, what they do after will tell you how much ability they have to take responsibility and change over time. And the same goes for you.

Marriage is all about understanding and adjusting and growing with your partner.

You either grow together or you grow apart from each other.

There is a lot of research on this, and this dynamic plays out in all other relationships as well.

Even the parent-child relationships. It doesn’t matter how we mess up—because we are going to mess up anyway, we are human—but what we do after it counts more than the messing up part ever will.

It is even true in our relationship with God—in repentance, in tawbah, in understanding Him more, and in doing more of what He wants us to do, and in changing and growing into the person He wants us to be makes us closer to Him and closer to our own selves.

To conclude: all growth lies in our ability to grow, and growth lies in our ability to change, and the ability to change lies in our ability to take accountability for our mistakes, and taking accountability lies in our ability to sit with the discomfort and the grief of knowing that we messed up and accepting that we are actually imperfect—being humble about our humanness.

This is what you look for in a spouse, and you see it when you see them in conflict—with you, with others—when you see them messing up and falling down, and then their ability to stand up again, and knowing how they fall and what they did so that they can not do this time to fall.

And now I am realizing that I spent so much time writing this when I could have studied :(

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hearing its waves crash against the rocks in different ways.

At times, they come to kiss my feet,

leaving me craving their touch once more, amazed.

I ache to dive in, into its deepest waters,

exploring all that it contains so well displays

the beauties, the darkness, the untouched valleys.

I come curious, I come adventurous, I come slightly afraid

I come as I am, eager to be held

within the calm waters of the moving waves.

I wish it were easy, but it isn’t anyways.

The ocean hasn’t known safety beyond theft,

so it only comes to kiss my feet

but never lets me in its caves.

It’s almost as if the ocean says,

“I’m at the shore of it—better safe,”

even though the waters itself are waiting to welcome my grace.

The wall between us

that is not there,

Only,ever

stays.

Something about the marriage “industry” is making me deeply uncomfortable. I am literally calling it an industry because it is operating and looking like one. We aren’t AI chat bots or robots, but somehow we have industrialized everything, and now we are well on our way to treating our relationships the same way.

Relationship is the seat of human connection. Human connection is what makes us human. So how can we make it so machine-like?

I have always hated the idea of treating people as profiles, going to the market and scrutinizing what suits you, just as you would go and look for in a fish market. But recently I decided to go against my instincts and check the market, not because I had good hopes in it, but because I was curious and I didn’t want to be held back just because I am not comfortable with something.

So I decided to install Muzz and went through some profiles, went through some Facebook matrimonial groups, and joined a WhatsApp matrimonial group as well.

As much as I tried to stay grounded, however, the experience was extremely disturbing. I deleted my profile in a few hours (which was meant to scare people anyway, I mean, I said I am difficult to be with in my bio, and the only picture of me was in a niqab).

I joined and left the Facebook group in a few minutes, and stayed in the WhatsApp group I guess for two days before I left today.

It all started with one of my cousins sending me a rishta profile and raising my curiosity.

After going through quite a few profiles in the last few days, the general format is almost similar and goes like this:

Name:
Gender:
Height:
Birth year / marital status:
Country of origin and residence:

Education and Career:

Interests:

Looking for:

If it’s a guy, they would usually ask for someone 5 to 1 year younger than them, never married, they would usually ask for kindness, maturity, knows what a relationship needs, can compromise, etc. If it’s a girl, she would ask for well-educated, responsible, kind, etc.

Does it not look more like a resume that you would make when applying for a job? I don’t understand this. Marriage is very different than a job or a post. You come not just in a specific role, you come as a whole human being. You are going to begin a life with this individual, and all that matters is whether they own their own house or not. If they have a bachelor’s, or if they are a doctor or not? Are they open to living with your parents or not? If they have a stable job or not?

All you care about is how many years they have lived on this earth and how much they have grown or not?

I am not saying that all of this does not matter at all. Everything has its own place; it does matter, but is it all that matters? Or should this matter so much so that you reduce a whole person to these tiny superficial details?

I am seriously scared for what we have become and where we are headed. The things that we are measuring each other’s worth upon are, in their very nature, worthless.

No one is even asking or curious what this person’s life goals look like. Stability is all the shit we are only looking for: stable house, stable home, stable career, stable income.

Okay, but if you are so concerned about being stable, what are you going to do after you achieve that stability? Die in comfort? What a well-lived life actually!

No wonder we have no patience in marriage. No wonder we cannot understand basic emotions. No wonder we have lost the ability to empathise; we are no longer human. No longer unique individual personalities. We are parts, part bodies, part finances, part degrees, part what we own and part who we own.

That’s all that matters.

Who cares who you are from inside? Because I don’t even know what my insides look like. Even religion is measured in terms of fasting and praying. I want a hijabi, I want a man with a beard. I want one who prays regularly.

Rarely would you find anyone who says I want someone who cares about their akhirah, someone who is conscious of God.

I was so hopeless after seeing the whole culture.

Muzz was seriously the worst. Swiping people (not to say that it was a shock to my system watching scary men’s faces, and my nervous system went into flight mode), but the very act of imagining swiping through profiles is scary.

If there is one message I want to give, it would be:

“People are not profiles; they are a universe in themselves. We can’t know all about them before marrying, but we can’t reduce them to profiles. Meeting people in real life is a more natural way of seeing who you can match with. We don’t need secluded spaces designed just for the purpose of marriages, where people present themselves in a certain way. We need more natural interactions, safe yet open enough to get to know each other.

We need to change our priorities towards life, towards marriage, towards finding a spouse.”

I remember when my son had to start school, and I started searching a bit. I realized everyone is already in the rat race, entering their kids into the same race. The moment they are born, they are registered in a school that ensures their success. I don’t understand which success, but I guess prestige mixed with some delusional success.

Today, looking at the marriage market, I am grieved by the same sentiment. It’s the same race, people have graduated, they have a job, maybe also own a house, and now they are looking for a spouse who can run the same race with them.

All I can see is that they are running and running, but none of them has any idea where they are headed.

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Yesterday he went running on the street to buy ice cream. I could see him from the rooftop. He went running and came back running. Using his utmost speed and energy. It was a delight to my eyes and heart. He is growing, He is happy, He is joyed, He is turning into a strong man.

I got tears in my eyes, those kind of tears when after a long period of time where everything seems to be breaking apart you out of nowhere have a win. Its a win for me to see him happy, healthy, strong and growing.

In that moment I prayed to Allah. I have grown into the habit of asking Allah whenever an emotion over comes me, since I read the story of the Wife of Imran. When She saw birds feeding their baby, her desire for a baby rekindled and she asked Allah to give her a righteous offspring. Allah granted her Maryam A.S. When Zakariya A.S saw Maryam having fruits from nowhere, He was also reminded of Allah's mercy, He asked then and there for a hier. He too was congratulated with Yahya.

We see this pattern repeating in almost everg story of all the Prophets. They need, they ask. They want, they ask. They are in trouble, they ask. The situation in impossible, they ask.

And asking is sometimes all it takes. Asking not because you are worthy of having it but because He is worthy of giving you.

Perhaps the goal has always been to realize who is in control, who can give, who sustains, who creates extra ordinary from mundane. Perhaps through prayer and asking, we learn not just to work, but to know that despite our work, we aren't in control, He is. We can't do anything, He can do anything.

So I asked again, to choose him for His sake. To take from him, His work for His sake. To grow him into a man who loves and fears God. And to give Him a mentor, a guide, who can help in on this path towards God.

رَبَّنَا هَبْ لَنَا مِنْ أَزْوَاجِنَا وَذُرِّيَّاتِنَا قُرَّةَ أَعْيُنٍ وَاجْعَلْنَا لِلْمُتَّقِينَ إِمَامًا

“Our Lord, grant us from our spouses and our offspring comfort to our eyes and make us leaders for the righteous.”

Surah Al-Furqan (25:74)

The one whose love entered every time I became hopeless in the love from his creation. He turned me to himself agian and again and again.

I kept blaming people, I kept hating them until I realized it was me. I didn’t just had to choose Him over people, but I had to choose Him over myself.

Not once, not twice, over and over again until it becomes my lifestyle. It’s easier said than done.

And believe me, He will test you from your weaknesses again and again, things you claim in words you will have to prove in action.

through action, through sacrifice, through pain, through grief, through patience, persistence, and perseverance.

My weakness is love, and so my life is a test of love. It’s a love story written by Him, from Him, to Him.

And if there is one thing I want from this life its’s His Love. I wish to carry His love in my precious heart, I wish He brings me closer to Him every single day and that I am able to earn His love through what pleases Him, and that I am able to experience His love from one who loves him

ameen

کبھی اے حقیقت منتظر نظر آ لباس مجاز میں
کہ ہزاروں سجدے تڑپ رہے ہیں مری جبین نیاز میں

طرب آشنائے خروش ہو تو نوا ہے محرم گوش ہو
وہ سرود کیا کہ چھپا ہوا ہو سکوت پردۂ ساز میں

تو بچا بچا کے نہ رکھ اسے ترا آئنہ ہے وہ آئنہ
کہ شکستہ ہو تو عزیز تر ہے نگاہ آئنہ ساز میں

دم طوف کرمک شمع نے یہ کہا کہ وہ اثر کہن
نہ تری حکایت سوز میں نہ مری حدیث گداز میں

نہ کہیں جہاں میں اماں ملی جو اماں ملی تو کہاں ملی
مرے جرم خانہ خراب کو ترے عفو بندہ نواز میں

نہ وہ عشق میں رہیں گرمیاں نہ وہ حسن میں رہیں شوخیاں
نہ وہ غزنوی میں تڑپ رہی نہ وہ خم ہے زلف ایاز میں

جو میں سر بہ سجدہ ہوا کبھی تو زمیں سے آنے لگی صدا
ترا دل تو ہے صنم آشنا تجھے کیا ملے گا نماز میں

Iqbal

I thought she wasn’t looking to get me married again. Ever.

I was like I can grow old alone but I won’t marry until my heart is 100% satisfied. I asked her to pray, this time, if I get married, only Allah can make it happen, because with every divorce I have raised my standards.

She was silent for a few seconds because it took some time, I think, to comprehend my statement, and then she laughed, saying, " What a joke! (As if she was proud of me ) I said yes, it jokes but actually I am serious, I know what’s wrong, I am never going to take that again, besides I am grown up now, I know what I want and I am not going to settle for any less.

After the call, I am sitting by myself to actually figure out what I want. Because I sure pray for a mate, I sure badly want it, I desire, I yearn for a relationship, yet the moment someone talks about getting married or finding a spouse, I shut down almost immediately. I feel a strong aversion to it.

If I am being honest its not so much about the goals or the timeline. I think I might get married tomorrow if I find the right person, but it’s very hard now for me to like someone, for me to get attracted to someone genuinely.

It has always been easy to connect to people, but it’s been difficult to feel connected. I have hated the marraige market always, I don’t like being scrutinized or scrutinizing people. I don’t think I can find a match in that market ever.

It started with shock, followed by frustration, and now I am sitting with grief because it seems hard. Marraige is a risk after all, and for whom and with whom I am willing to take this risk again?

Seriously If Allah has to send that man, He should fall right in my lap from the sky, pure miracle. I am not going to look for him, because I can’t. I can’t just put myself out there, just like that.

It should check all the boxes

Because I want him to lead and I want to feel comfortable in his leadership, I should be able to trust him, and for that he needs to be

be a practicing, but humble and open-minded Muslim,

as or more intelligent than me, (not being arrogant but self-aware, I am intelligent)

think at least as or more deeply as I do.

should have strong moral values

should have a purpose in life

should think beyond himself

should love, fear, and Trust Allah

should be able to love at least as deeply or more than I do

good sense of humor is a bonus

should be brave, protective, and masculine

should be soft with us, though I mean the kids and me

What else, ummm, yeah, I think charm is a bonus too.

I like expression, so yeah, being expressive in words and actions is also attractive.

and a consistent man, who knows he is building something, living an intentional life.

Other than that I think I value people who can continue to grow, who can contradict themselves, who can afford to be not right all the time, because with child rearing, I might have a lot of advice to give and if the other person is rigid to new ways or information, it can create conflict.

Yes, and very important, He needs to communicate through conflicts. He should be a problem solver and a good listener.

I think I asked for too much, but what I am really asking is for someone to genuinely build something beautiful with. Not perfection but effort.

I know it’s hard, but I am hopeful, not in people, but in God.

Just leaving it here so I can come back to it later and see how much of it came true.

looking back I believe I saw everyone the same way I was and it took pretty bad experiences over a long period of time to develop some discernment, boundaries around my empathy and humbleness to my ability to give because I gave and gave untill I became a shell of myself. I gave and gave and exhausted myself to realize that I too have limits.

I am not God, I am only a limited capacity human being and I also need the other person to pour and give in to me otherwise I too can die of starvation.

anyways two failed relationships gave me enough experience of what and where things went wrong and what we need on a very basic level to sustain a relationship.

I am not talking about compatibility, about chemistry about simillar interests or about a deep soul touching connection you feel with the other person. I am here to talk about the basic decency, the bare minimum thats required for a relationship to function.

In many ways I have come to realize that often this bare minimum, this basic decency and very basic human skills that make or break a relationship over long term.
ye swe are all diffenet, yes we are comlex, and unique with our different, interests, backgrounds, personalities, family histories, social background, ethnicities, colours and languages, yet at the very core of us we are all alike. We are very basic. We all need and want the same things. At our core we are all humans.

so from top of my head very basic yet very crucial elements that will make a relationship last over longterm.

accountibility

self reflection/awareness

empathy

the ability to see within one self and beyond one self.

at the root of it all is the a certain amount of diffrentiation that you have from your ownself, only a person who has a certain amount of diferentiatuon, a space, an openness from where they can observe themselves and ibserve the othe rperson and then have an understanding that both of them are part of the bigger picture. The container that holds both of them is the relationship itself and therefore in the mind of both the indivuals the relationship itself should be important than their ownself.

should have the space, enough capacity to look at themselves when thety mess up, own it, atleast feel sorry about it.

one who can’t afford to feel sorry, (grieve) would never accept, one who never accept will only blame the other person. Everytime in effort to save themselves they will let the relationship suffer because they simply don’t ahve the capacity or cannot afford to feel the the grief of not being good enough. They would rather arrongantly prefer to believe that there was and is nothing wrong with them.

Empathy is also related to it. The ability to see someone’s pain, their hurt, their suffering, or the ability to genuienly feel happy with and for another. But if the person has no capacity to look beyond them, if they are self focused how would they look at you the way you are. They might only be seeing what helps them and what helps them not.

Care, Regard, for the needs of the other.

Again is possible only for someone who understands and regards you as a seperate person not an extension of themselves where you exist to fulfill a certain role in their life.

in that case their is no relationship. Its ony the person, with their defences, barely holding their system together and using you only as a tool to stabilize a system that by default is destabilized.

If we think about these, self reflection, awareness, accountibility, empathy, care they are such basic human characteristics, that is all we need sometimes to be happy to be understood, to feel safe in a relationship. They are so easy and yet so hard.

Also, If there is one thing that can measure all of it is conflict. So atleast have one conflict with them, including or excluding their family and see how they manage. See if they seek to understand, or defend. See if they seek to take responsibility or find everyone else to blame. See If they still empathise or atleast have curosity to understand your perspecetive or they are so sure about their own? above all see if they stand for what is right or follow what culture, tradition, family values, or even their desires say. See if they fear people or Allah more.

And then decide.

Because when all else fails , the fear of Allah in one’s heart will save you. People change, feelings come and go, chemistry and compatibility might change, but one who fears Allah will fear breaking you for the fear of Allah and one who doesn’t fear Allah in his dealings and fears people more will break you one day and have no mercy for you.

So I gave in to my feelings and decided to pen down whatever comes. It’s not as coherent as I would want it to be, and that’s okay. I haven’t read a single poetry book in my life and therefore I struggle with vocabulary, and that too is okay. It might still carry meaning, touch hearts its meant to touch, and may provide translation for emotions. Above all, it gave language to some of my experiences, a chance to breathe in the external world, for that I am grateful.

On a side note I can also notice some of my therapy language seeping into this poem, which again is going to be a unique combination in my view .

From distant clouds I heard a thunder loud
My land was shaken and hurriedly came the sprouts 

I prayed and prayed for the clouds to rain
They were so distant the seedling dormant remained 

The earth cracked beneath the sun's wreath
The clouds grew tired of carrying tons of weight

Its ironic how people suffer from avoiding pain
The altars they lay to sacrifice kill them and their beloveds alike 

Shame is nothing but a hurting  scar  
Waiting to be witnessed in love's light 

No love's eternal no friend is forever by your side 
Except for Allah who is everliving, upright

Rain is in His timing by His mercy alone 
you seldom know from where the clouds return home