Chapter name: There are no bounds to the metaphors to describe pain.

Bismillah hir Rahman nir Raheem.

"Look, a shooting star".

" Beautiful, simply beautiful", ten-year-old Raoof exclaimed.

"Ummi, does a shooting star forms when the stars break?".

" Umar, it's a fragment of the stars".

"Ummi, is Raoof right?".

" Where does the shooting star go and  fall?".

The banter continued to downpour outside the tent of whose entrance Samra stood. She ticked the last of the entries and closed the file in hand. Perching it beside all the logs, she opened the curtain wide to step outside.

Even though they don't get their basic needs fulfilled, an aura of peace surrounded the air around them. It was like the land was star dusted with specs of fragrant flowers in the soils of desert. Not a five-star hotel to check-in but the open view of the lavish night sky, not a mattress of foam to dive into sleep but the comfort of sleeping in the bed of mother nature. Not mouth-watering menus of foods but wheat bread and falafel fill their hungry tummies yet with all these discomforts, hearts were filled with loads of comfort. The organ caged in the confines of ribs found solace as if it found its home without four brick walls to encircle it.

The cool breeze of the midnight air-kissed her niqab covered face, allowing it to dance with its rhythm. She hugged herself with her arms folded over her bosom. Every night, a few families occupied the open and wide outside area to settle and call it a night.

Raoof and his five-year-old brother Umar sat snuggled beside their Mother watching the trespassing shooting stars in the perfect framed star-ish night. Their mother broke the pita bread into three pieces, handing each to either of them and settling with the last piece for her. She nodded her head at her kids. "Yeah. What Raoof said was true. A few tell it's the Shaitan that was stoned by the angels for eavesdropping on conversations of the skies and it's Allah, who knows where they fall".

The kids listened to their mother in utter silence urging her to continue her. " Sometimes they fall on us even in the daytime--".

"--Even in the day time?", small Umar objected.

" Yes. They will rain over us. I am just warning you brave boys so that you would face them without fearing".

"What will happen when they touch us?", Umar's innocence caused a chill to run down through Samra's spine.

" They will burn us", Raoof replied without putting a filter to his words making Umar hug his Mother in fear and bury his head within the veil of her black clothing.

"It's not true", a voice echoed through the sharp silence.

Samra turned towards the sound of the voice and her perplexed form relaxed at his sight. Ahmed kneeled a few inches away from Umar, providing privacy to his Mother. When Umar peeked, he smiled. " it's not the entire truth".

"Then?", the boy slowly questioned.

" Do you know the story of Prophet Ibrahim?".

Hearing this, Raoof jumped up enthusiastically. "I know, I know", he raised his hand in the air.

" Oh, so you know", Ahmed turned towards the older brother, "Tell me what happens when Prophet Ibrahim was thrown on heaps of fire?".

" The fire turns cool".

"Exactly my point", Ahmed ruffled Raoof's hair. " Allah doesn't harm us. He never does. He just tests us whether we trust him. If we trust him even when we are thrown over the fire, he will save us. There is no doubt in that".

Umar came out of his Mother's grasp, his eyes out of the demons of fear. "Do you trust Allah, Umar?".

" Yes".

"Will you trust him even if the shooting stars rain over you?".

" I will", he replied affirmatively.

"Me too", Raoof cooed.

Samra smiled at Ahmed as he hugged both boys to his chest and she clapped her hands with glee.

" Do you know? Allah gives you treats when you put your trust in him and when you obey him.".

"Really?", Umar jumped up and down.

" Yes, he does", Ahmed nodded, taking a bar of Toblerone out of his coat pocket. He broke the triangle lined chocolate bar in half and handed it to them.

Their laughs filled the air, the breeze caressed them to fall asleep in the fondness of the night, an inferential lullaby.

After they had settled downs, as she laid her head on the pillow granted by the sleeping bag, all her mind busted over was a only single question.

Unknowingly, she stood on the same situation as Ibrahim Alayhi Salaam. Ahmed was the fire. Allah was her ally. If she trusted him enough to take the leap? Was the question.

Would Ahmed burn her into ashes or would he bestow coolness to her body and soul?

The answer to this particular multiple choice question, she already knew but like always, she chose to ignore it to answer the other question life threw her way.

...

Don't you think we all suffer from a similar disorder?

Every one of us.

Muslims.

Allah has laid down the fact that this world is nothing other than the enjoyment of delusion. It's our prison and we are its prisoners. Why do we want enjoyment in a prison? Why do we want to build castles and claim them our own? Why this Hawas(greed)?

We know what happens to the ones who came before us, what had downpoured over them for following their lustful desires and footsteps of Shaitan.

If we precisely give our heed to the Quran, perhaps we will notice that Allah talks about Bani Israel. A lot more than necessary. Why does he talk about them so now and then? Why give his attention to someone who he, himself destroyed? Do you not understand?

He talks so much about them is to warn us because to show us, we are no different from them.

In a world, which is certainly a prison, in which we are captivated for a while, where we are just supposed to stay as just a wayfarer, where we shouldn't have attached our hearts, where we should never have searched for a home in the provided house.

We have done its opposite.

We have fallen in love with this deception. We know that this is a clear lie, deceiving and not eternal, yet we crave for more and more.

Do you get what disease I am talking about all this while?

Stockholm syndrome.

Stockholm syndrome is a psychological response. It occurs when hostages bond with their captors. This psychological connection develops over the days, weeks, months, or even years of captivity.

You must be wondering why your Aashiq is talking about all this?

Probably because I, myself was suffering from this disorder, ignoring the truth, addicted to the cravings of my nafs, making Shaitan my best friend, giving him the key to control me, remote me to all the sins he wishes to add on the cart of my Records until I learned about my Cancer.

My tumor opened my eyes, Jesima. I opened them to see the reality. How should I be? and how I was.

That became the sole reason that I accepted my destiny. Accepted the fact that I would die and leave you behind. Accepted it, no matter what. Because at the end of my life, at least, I wanted to surrender myself to Allah and his plans. I have then, entrusted my love, my Aashiqui, to him.

I trust him that when all of this will get over, when every one of us would be shown our rightful place, our permanent abode, I have pleaded with him to unite me with you. My Jaan. My everything.

A permanent Life.

With you by my side.

And this is what I have asked him as my last wish.

Jesima stood in the shoes of the chinaware that her mother loved to beautify her cutlery shelf with. Once, when Jesima was eight years old, she had a great desire to help her mother rearrange the articles. No matter how busy the school kept her and how packed her schedule was, her mother always found time once in a month to clean off the dust and rearrange them in a different order.

She told that it gave her a feeling of peace, a fragment of soothing from her tiredness, a bit of relaxation amid chaos, she had quoted these exact words when asked. So, back to the flashback, it was that time of the month when her mother had pushed all her hair into a messy ponytail, scoffed a napkin inside the neatly arranged vessels, cups, bowls, and tulip glasses one by one.

Jesima cried to lend her mother a helping hand and her continuous pleading eventually lead her mother to accept her offer. They both started to clean off the accessories without a speck of dust, at least Jesima tried to mirror her mother.

She was halfway arranging the wine glasses when one fell over the other in a uniform motion and before she could react a reflex reaction, they all fell over the white marbled floor. Like loose pearl necklace, they splattered all over the niche, shattering into shards, piercing the skin with their tiny pieces, oozing with blood.

At the moment, when the ambulance arrived and Aashiq was wheeled out to the hospital to determine the cause of death, all Jesima did was throttle Anjum's hands that held her to no extent, crying so harder that she didn't knew what she was doing.

Like a storm, she thundered. Each stroke of pain hit her mightier than before. She hurdled amidst devastation. Bit her bottom lip, until it soared to bleed crimson fluid. It was not easy to let him go, go away. But, no matter how much she wailed in incoherent whispers, he was never returning back.

After withdrawing from the hospital, a freezer box from the local masjid was hired to keep his body until they arranged a piece of land in the country to bury him.

The process went on and on. Taking two long days to complete the procedures.

In the mean time, people crowded the household, distant relatives had enough time to fly to attend the funeral, each and every employee of his Architectural firm paid to give their condolense for the loss of their Boss. The house was filled with folks like ants, in and out.

Jesima was made to sit on a separate wailed portion as her Iddath period had commenced. Her eyes perceived the view of her other half, the one beside who's name, her name was written fifty thousand years back, the one to whom her heart and soul belonged. Gazing at him with the broken irises of hers. His radiant face shimmered with noor, dimples adorned his cheeks and eyes closed in a forever sleep.

Her kins pressed her hands, hugged her, kissed her forehead but she didn't feel comfort in anyone's touch. No amounts of novels could describe the pain with which she sat there. Stilled. Frozen.

She saw each and every one who attended the funeral and sarcastically laughed at her own irony, she was there, seated amidst crowds looking at the enormous and uncountable people approach one of the most honorable gentle man that breathed in this world and she called him, her own.

Questions like, whether at least a hundred people would gather for her own funeral huddled the brain cells of her brain.

Seeing this respectable man, she learned a lot of lessons and one that is the greatest is, how to live?

How to live with grounded feet, loving unconditionally, respecting others, giving others an helping hand, putting others needs in front of hers, making her family happy, satisfying the needs of people, following the sunnah of the Prophet Muhammad (Peace be upon him), worshipping Allah the way he should be worshipped, living a life on the principles of Islam, and accepting death with open palms, etc.

She felt broken beyond repair, yet she hoped, believed his words. In shaa Allah, when everything would be destroyed in this world, their love for each other will not. They will be given a sublime position in the heavens, along with the other righteous and together they all will live a life, attain salvation, attain the promise of their Rabb and eternally, live an happily ever after.

...

Samra neatly poured the hot sizzling tea over the uniformly arranged styrofoam cups in the trays that lined the counter. Without uttering a word, Rafa pushed the trays aside and started handing them to the workers that came inside the kitchen after handing over the refreshments to the hundreds of people that gathered at the funeral, to give condolence to the family towards their huge loss and to see the face of one of the best man that lived in the face of this world.

Her thoughts were haywire, her throat constricted and her eyes glazed with agony and affliction. Each of her limbs ached due to her jetlag and the long journey she and Ahmed had taken to attend the funeral. After landing, they didn't had an ounce of rest rather hurriedly came over to the grief-stricken place, hearts in their throat.

Samra felt her world crumble, shake from the bottom as if an earthquake had hit secured flooring of mud, making the sandcastles tremble with so much might that in one second they fell, they had fallen with such a fury that there is nothing but the abyss of what was once a kingdom. A kingdom of hope. The hope of ever-lasting promises. Promises of love and how they have shackled and scurried away with separation and needed a lot of patience to breathe in each thorn prickled breath, live when a part of us had passed away.

Words weighed like mountains in her tongue and she couldn't get herself to console her friend, who sat amidst the broken shackles of the destruction fallen house which was once her home. A home she and Aashiq had built. Built with the bricks of love, walls of affection, the cement of endearment, and the foundation of trust.

Jesima's face was otherworldly, like all the stars that lined in the universe had crestfallen over her, like she had just woke up from a nightmare. Samra hadn't had the courage in herself to even walk up to her without faltering. When she stood an inch away from Jesima, she embraced her into a hug. Jesima's arms didn't had the strength to return the gesture, they were still, and she hadn't the slightest clue of the touch of her friend.

It was understandable.

Perhaps, it was.

Then Samra helped with the rest of the family to attend to the arriving crowd. She couldn't sit for a single moment because when she sat, the tragedy struck her more. Made her bleed to the extent she felt like she would fall unconscious without a drop of blood in her body. The pain was immense. That's how much it was. Unexplainable in mere words.

As she helped to tend the guests, unconsciously, she fell over an entirely different realm of thoughts. As if she was swimming in the deepest of the ocean, lapping with the waves to grab some extra oxygen. Her breathing hitched and each passing second, she felt herself close to death. Close to giving up but she wanted to hold on. Hold on to see the shore, experience her feet massaging over the salty mud, open the treasure of new adventures where there was no cloud of fear hovering over her.

Now thinking about the word fear. All she feels is how cowardice has she been all through this life. How she made her fear to remote her actions. Yes, she was harassed. Yes, she was assaulted. Yes, her own blood agonized her to no extent. Yes, she had a valid reason not to trust any man in her life when her father had turned to be a demon to her. But. There has always been a 'but' in her story. But, Allah saved her then and he had guided her all through her way. When she was succumbed to the darkness of this world, He, the exalted always have been watching her, protecting her, paving the path for her, letting her meet people who were real gems. It was all worth it in the end. Her struggle, her pain, her suffering made her the person she was today. In the end, Allah made her the person she was.

What does Allah tell us? Tie the camel and trust him. Did she tied her came to trust him to protect it? She followed the whims of her fear and proved to be an hypocrite of her own faith.

Seeing Jesima, a newfound fear nested her heart. A big lesson waited for her to open the book of her mind and to read. Jesima thought she had time, time to conquer this world, making Aashiq wait. In Samra's case, she needed time to conquer her fear. Aashiq waited and waited for her to reach the shore, reach the Iceland where he stood, with greeneries of his love, a treasure of pure delicacy, an exotic meeting, where they planned to walk the rest of their journey, hand in hand, heart in heart. But, when Jesima walked through the deserted sands towards her destination did she found. It was all a mirage to the eye. Deceiving and false. There was indeed an Iceland of treasure but no Aashiq breathed on it.

One moment, she had it all in her hands and the next, she found her palms empty.

Now, she had all the time in the world, literally everything she wished for,  but not her Aashiq.

Paa kar bhi us ney sabkuch khodiya.

What would happen to Samra if she blindly followed her ways?

At the juncture, Samra recognised, exactly how transient this life is.

Rafa yelped in surprise when Samra gasped and took several steps backward. "Are you alright?", she asked hoarsely.

Samra shook her head in a no. She wasn't anything but alright.

" Please, pass this tray over", Samra gestured to the tray that contained several cups of tea.

She didn't wait for Rafa to nod in affirmative rather rushed past the kitchen aisle.  She crossed the sea of people. Her steps were fast and quick.

She understood that if we want something in this life, we should rush to accomplish it. Because we don't know when our end is. If we want to spend our life with a fellow human, make a relationship with our kins better, rekindle the broken ties, ask forgiveness for our mistakes, we should rush in doing it. Because we never know where we and the one who we have an close affair are standing? Maybe, just maybe, he/she might unknowingly have crossed their last chapter. We don't know.

She had anonymously given her heart to him, without even intending to. She may laugh at their irony, she was a girl who feared the opposite gender to the last of her core and he was someone who hadn't had much contact with his opposite gender. So when they both had been teamed up, they blinked in illiteracy. How were they even going to manage the whole semester with each other's company? Had been the only question swiveling inside each of their heads.

Somehow, they swam. He was gentle, caring, outspoken, helpful and she was quiet, fearful, and diligent. She often wondered that he would end up hating her but never in her dreams did she thought that he would fall in love with her. Like he had asserted when she declared his proposal a rejection, "I dont know what reason you hold to not love me but I just know that I don't need any reason to love you".

If he had told her that now, she would  reply in an instant, " I don't know what reason you hold to love me but I just know that I don't need any reason to hate you" In the end, she would add, "I have always been, irrevocably in love with you, from the start till the last, I love you and forever will. It's like I am drowning, Ahmed. Drowning in my fear. Lend me a hand, will ya?".

" Save me like you always do". Tears pooled her eyes as her mind outran her confession before her lips did. She saw Ahmed standing a few yards away. Talking to some men animatedly, and she found her feet robotically take her to him. The destination of predestined destiny.

When he saw someone approaching him, he turned towards her. Though his eyes were hollow, the blue ocean filled with all the sorrow of the situation they all were undergoing, they glinted with pure mirth of the underlying treasured love at the sight of Samra.

"Samra, do you want something?", he questioned perplexed because they all were getting ready for the final prayer to pray for the deceased. Everyone was going pro and forth in preparation. He didn't know why she approached him then, but nevertheless, gave her his heed, like he always did. He chose her first.

" Yes".

"What?", he asked, giving her his full attention.

" I want to marry you".

***

**sighs**

I have been writing this chapter for a month now. I hope it's worth it. It has taken all the ounce of strength in me to pen this down.

Your reviews please, I simply love them.