Disaster's Aid

He glances at me and I look back.

"Did we miss our plane?"

"We still have time. I was just thinking, that if you are this beautiful here, how beautiful you will be in Jannah."

He smiles. I blush at my white gold ring and grin.

"How do you know so much about Heaven?" I say and lean on my black suitcase. I glance up and he rests on a black couch to be at my eye level.

I adjust my hijab with the constant feeling that my hair is slipping out. Although now it doesn't matter because we are married. But this nervous habit has started to hasten the more we are left alone together.

"My family has always had a thirst to learn more about Islam. To understand how to gain the highest level of Jannah." He tilts his head to the side, like I used to do when I tried to figure out fancy art at the Art Gallery of Ontario.

"So because you already live in a palace, does that mean you are good to go?"

I glance at Tariq and he grins catching my eye with his crystal brown ones and then he stares at his hands. I can feel my own face burning up, so I understand why his face is flush. To think that after two weeks of our nikkah we are being sent to Canada for a vacation. I get why they want to send us, but this is so nerve wracking. To get us to know each other.

We are officially married. Simply all we did was go to the musjid and listen to a small speech about patience and mercy between spouses and how the spouses are like a covering to each other and then said yes to marrying each other.

Done deal. We're hitched. Soul mates.

Not that anyone considers the marriage final before the big function, but religiously it is done and that's really all that matters. When we come back to Paksitan Tariq is throwing a walima in my honour, which is really what everyone views as the wedding and when we will officially start living together. Where? Maybe Canada, maybe Pakistan. We want to stay in one or the other. So they are actually letting us decide! I don't know what's wrong with them, I mean they chose a husband for me, but seriously I almost said no, how can they let me decide where we are going to live? At least, I have Tariq to help. But I just become so flustered talking to him alone all of a sudden.

"The palaces in Jannah are nothing like what we have here. Everything there is built based on our deeds, based on architecture we cannot imagine, based on structures we cannot fathom. It's all different there. Like, if you say here a praise to God, like "There is no might or power except Allah" you will get something in Jannah."

"Like what? Do you get clothes or food or something?"

"It is said that when you speak good words you get special rooms in Jannah. That if you praise Allah you get a tree in Jannah. That if you read 12 sunnah rakahs a day you get a house in Jannah."

A house in Jannah, in heaven. Wow. Your own real estate reserved when you pray in this world. I wonder if our kids will move in with us? Or if by then they will have their own lives. Oh Allah! I can feel my face heating up. It feels like the time I opened the oven after Arfsy tried to make me a frozen pizza. My face is tingling.

I stub my toe against the black sofa and move around Tariq to perch on the sofa to his right.

"12 Sunnah rakahs? Isn't that just the regular sunnahs that we read?"

"I believe it is the first two before fajr, the four before zuhr and the two after, the two after maghrib and the two after Isha." He leans his elbow on the edge of the couch and his eyes sparkle as we catch gazes.

"But wait, if we are going to be as tall as Hazrat Adam peace be upon him, won't the trees like the ones we have here be too tiny? Like toothpicks or something?"

"The trees will be different there, there is a tree that if you travel beneath it's shade it would take you a hundred years to reach the other side."

"A hundred years!? But won't we have other stuff to do? Why would you need to cross it?"

"In Jannah everything is for pleasure, there are no appointments, there is no rush, there is no plane to catch. If we wanted, you and I could go outside our home in Jannah to see a rose, then stop and look upon the rose for years."

I raise my hands to rest on the couch sides and clench the plush leather.

I clench my toes. I stare down and take a deep breath. The simmering on my face lessens.

"But, will you and I really be together in Jannah? I don't know that much about Islam and you do, so won't I be on a lower level or something?"

"Allah the Most Merciful will reunite husband and wife in the hereafter, they will be together. You and I just have to just follow the way of Prophet Muhammad may peace and blessings be upon him in order to reach Jannah."

"May Peace and blessings be upon him. Is the Prophet really the best of all mankind?"

"Yes, definitely. If you read about his life you can see how patient and kind and brave he was. You can learn about how his character was so great that even the non-believers saw him as The Truthful. His enemies would trust his word against others, even before he was brought the Revelation of Quran."

"Wow, but what about, never mind." I adjust my hijab around my cheeks with one hand.

"What is it?" Tariq pulls my hand from the sofa and clasps his hand to mine. I hold tight.

"I don't want to sound ignorant, but you know that people say Islam was spread by the sword, is that really true? Were people forced to convert?" I glance down at my passport.

"Hey Sara, you're not ignorant to ask questions. Haven't you heard that when you ask a question an angel is appointed to pray for you both until the Day of Judgement? Curiosity and questions are a sign of intelligence. We can't truly live our lives being passive and be happy. Everyone wants depth, everyone wants their answers. So, of course, we ask questions. I always ask my father and mother questions. I used to go to the musjid in Ramadan and wait till I could ask the Imaam questions. Once he talked to me until suhoor." Tariq chuckles and pulls me along with our luggage towards the checking lines.

He drops my suitcase and his duffel bag onto the belt and hands over our boarding passes. The attendant grins and his beard rises. His round cheeks highlighted by the florescent lighting, I can't help but grin as I lower my gaze and stare as my husband's duffel bag skirts away.

"Walk through those doors on the left and then straight to enter the plane."

I adjust my hijab with the other hand and Tariq nudges my shoulder so I start walking.

"JazakAllah Khair"(May Allah Reward you with goodness, this is an expression of gratitude). Tariq says.

"Wa iyaakum" (to you too). The attendant says.

We march to the airplane in sync.

"So that imaam at the musjid, he talked to you until sunrise? Do people really do that? Just sit and listen to so many questions?" I say as we swerve around luggage belts towards the plane entrance.

"Well, isn't that what you would do? If you knew the truth, and you were rewarded for spreading it with good character, wouldn't you try your best?"

Would I? I haven't really tried so far, I've been so distant from anything I've been taught, anything that now calms my heart, anything that had to do with more than right now. I never even said anything when Arfsy pulled off her hijab at Safia's wedding. I never encouraged her to rethink why she had it on in the first place, I just let her stop the last part of her deen. I never called her out when she stopped praying. I let her escape Mama's ways of making us pray as soon as it is time. I always helped her out. Aiding and abetting. A criminal by association. I never even tried to help her stand up again.

Hiding her in my room, always hiding my heart from her, never giving her a space to start things anew. I let her slip. That's how we were both consumed.

Sometimes she would talk to me about life and I would always move away from the talk of deen, the talk of faith. I made it too easy for her. She must've been trying to get something back. But she didn't know what was running through my blood, she didn't know the devil had me hostage, she didn't know I was already playing games. She didn't know that her friend was only the appearance of modesty. And barely that. I would wear my scarf with skinny jeans, wear tight tops with see-through arms, wear heels to make my legs look killer. While inside I was dying.Trying too hard for attention.

I look at Tariq, his strong clear eyes waiting for an answer. Giving me full attention like he always does when I ask him questions. How could I let someone go now? When I was given a chance and I don't ever want to drown?

"I hope, I guess so. But, where did you sit to talk for so long?"

"In the house of Allah."

"You went to the Kaaba in Saudia Arabia?" My eyebrows clench and I glance at Tariq laughing.

"The musjid is considered the house of Allah as well. Anyone can go and ask questions there. It should be a place feeling like home, like the center of the community. It's like the swords thing, Islam wasn't spread by swords, it is very explicit in Islam that there is no compulsion in religion. You cannot force people to convert."

"Oh, so basically, if you force someone to convert you're not actually getting rewards, right?"

"Yes, I'm thinking you would be collecting sins instead. It's a very bad idea to force people to believe your point of view. They should have the opportunity to ask questions, they should be allowed to reflect and have their own heart accept it. Anyways if they did convert by force it would be only farce. And that pretending wouldn't help anyone."

"Subhan Allah, there's so much I didn't know." (Glorified is Allah)

Astagfirullah I let Arfsy go. I haven't even spoken to her in three weeks (I seek forgiveness in Allah). She probably thinks I'm in Islamabad, at the embassy, trying to escape.

"God is great indeed and free from all evils. And don't worry, you and I can learn together."

Tariq takes my hand and kisses the back of it. He glides us to the entrance and we step inside. He strides to our seats and I strike seats with my hips. I stumble.

He turns and helps me up. I perch in the window seat and he rests beside me.

"Are you okay?" Tariq says looking at my chin.

"Sorry, I fell. I got caught up in, in what you were saying." I fight the urge to pull my hand away to fix my hijab.

"Don't worry Sara, we can set our intentions now, because if you intend something good and you do it you are rewarded and if you don't do it you are still rewarded for having a good intention. And if you intend to do something bad and you don't do it, you are rewarded still."

Starting our relationship on this reflective way, beginning our life with these basic ideas. Setting our intentions straight, working to be of good character, and asking questions. How could I want anything else? Our hands are intertwined. This mind of mine that isn't full of wisdom or knowledge like his, and that mind of his that he says I can learn with. Be with. Forever.

I look forward to this journey. He's promising heaven, with a route from God that seems clean and logical. I can ask all the questions I want, even ignorant ones and he still answers me with a smile. It seems so right, I never knew there were people like this. All thanks to Allah for pairing me with him. I hope that I can be the best and that we can truly meet again.

In Jannah.