Leilah Usman awaits an acceptance from a university abroad so she can leave the country she never loved when she stumbles upon an ancient diary. Through the eyes of Mahrosh Irfan, she finds herself in a world so completely different from hers.
One w...
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Mahrosh lay on her back, her pen still as she stared at the page before her.
The more I learn, the greater the shift within my heart. Lately, I have started to feel like a stranger to myself.
Who was the Mahrosh before this? What made her heart race – what did she deem the purpose of her life? What wants, what desires did she carry with her as she traveled through life?
The other day, when I prayed Fajr, I felt as if I was praying for the first time. My forehead met the cold floor and my heart felt as if it would simply burst.
Walid says that the secret to a person's own self is hidden in his belief in Allah. He says that unless you find Allah, you do not find yourself.
As the beat of my heart syncs with the tasbih to the One who created me, I feel a fullness within me.
And it is strange because I did not know how empty I was before I found Allah.
I did not know how much I needed Him.
And now that the sweetness of iman has touched the core of my being, I find all other matters fade into the background.
I am on a ship but I worry not of the storm; not as long as my hands are gripping onto the rope of Allah with every inch of strength. Not until my knuckles turn white and I see only that rope —
If I have Allah, nothing else matters.
"Mahrosh?"
Mahrosh pulled her gaze away from her diary, looking up at Aleena.
"How does this look?"
It took her a minute to notice the canvas in Aleena's hands and her eyes immediately brightened. The dark hues on the canvas blended into each other to form an identical image to a spring in a mountainous terrain. "Oof, Lina, it's beautiful, Masha'Allah!" Mahrosh sat up, "I love it so much. "
Aleena smiled, looking at her painting, "JazakAllah khair. I can't believe two of my paintings got sold already, Mahru."
"Aye, I always knew they would get sold quickly. You're just that good —"
A drop of water fell on her hands. Mahrosh blinked, her gaze rising to the sky. What she had thought was to be a cloudy April morning changed courses as the gray clouds gathered like wisps of smoke, growling and thundering. Before long, the skies had split open and the downpour began.
It was gentle at first; and Mahrosh and Aleena hurried to gather the painting supplies and laundry. The winds bellowed as the rain grew harsher just as the girls managed to retreat to the shade of the bramda.
Mahrosh gripped her dupatta against the ferociousness of the winds, feeling as if someone had placed a lid on the skies as the day dimmed.
It was not yet asr but the sun had either disappeared for a while or was too cowardly to fight against the raging storm. As Aleena retreated to her room, Mahrosh sat on the charpai, a thorn of concern furrowing her brows.
