Garments For Each Other

Garments For Each Other

2/27/2025, 11:41:45 AM

*Shezana’s Diary* *Garments for Each Other ©* *Thursday , February 27, 2025* Bismillah. This morning, as I sipped my chai and scrolled through my phone, a flurry of notifications caught my eye. There it was—the uroosa nasheed with Sumaya Aalan's name and a man's name that I didn't recognize. The caption read: "Alhamdulillah, Nikah'd to Maulana Salim Sadun." My heart skipped a beat. Sumayya? Married? And to a Maulana, no less? She hadn't mentioned a word about this to me. A whirlwind of emotions surged—excitement for her, but also a pang of hurt. How could my dear friend embark on such a monumental journey without sharing it with me? Then, an uncomfortable twinge of envy crept in. Sumayya, a year younger than me, was now married. Meanwhile, my own path seemed riddled with uncertainties and delays. But I caught myself. Envy is a seed that, if watered, can poison the heart. It can devour all the good deeds just as fire devours wood... Nope, I can't let that happen!! I took a deep breath and reminded myself: "A difficulty that brings you closer to Allah is more beautiful than a blessing that takes you away from Him." Perhaps this waiting period is my test, my means of drawing nearer to Allah. Everyone's journey is unique, and Allah's plans are always perfect. Determined to share in her joy, I picked up my phone to call Sumayya. The line was busy—undoubtedly, her phone was flooded with congratulatory calls. Instead, I composed a heartfelt message: "Dearest Sumayya, my heart swells with joy for you! May Allah bless your union with endless love, understanding, and barakah. I can't wait to hear all about it. Please remember me in your duas. With all my love, Shezana." Moments later, her reply came: "JazakAllah khair, dear! Your duas mean the world to me. It's been a whirlwind, and I promise to call you as soon as I can catch my breath. Keep me in your duaas." I smiled, imagining the flurry of activity in her home—the laughter, the tears, the myriad emotions that accompany such a blessed event. It took me back to the time when my own engagement seemed imminent. The house was alive with excitement; friends and cousins bustling about, making every moment special. But as quickly as those memories surfaced, I shuddered, recalling how it all unraveled. Life's twists and turns are beyond our comprehension. I whispered a sincere dua for Sumayya: "Ya Allah, grant her lasting happiness. Protect her marriage from any harm and fill their lives with Your mercy." Seeking to channel my emotions positively, I walked over to my closet and retrieved my Ramadan planner. The blessed month is just around the corner, and I want to be prepared. I revisited my goals: *Complete the Qur'an at least 8 or 9 times :* Reciting aprox ten Juz' each day. *Daily Salawat:* Sending blessings upon the Prophet ﷺ a thousand times. *Charity:* Setting aside a portion of my savings each week for those in need. *Tahajjud:* Waking up in the last third of the night to seek closeness to Allah. I also planned to incorporate some new recipes for Suhoor and Iftar, aiming to nourish both body and soul during this sacred month. As I penned down these intentions, a sense of tranquility washed over me. Life may not always unfold according to our plans, but with trust in Allah's wisdom, every moment becomes a step towards contentment. Alhamdulillah, for the tests that bring me closer to Him and for the blessings that I often overlook. I am exactly where I am meant to be, and for that, I am grateful. Love Shezana,

Garments For Each Other

2/26/2025, 9:48:16 AM

*The power of Acceptance in a Marriage* *A path to lasting love* *Garments for Each Other ©* *Post #2* Acceptance cannot be demanded; it must be given freely. Ask yourself: Am I truly accepting my spouse for who they are? Or am I constantly wishing they would change? If the answer leans toward the latter, it’s time for reflection. 1. Stop Challenging—Start Listening When your spouse expresses an opinion or belief, do you immediately challenge them? "Seriously!! How dumb is that? All your ideas don't make sense! " Instead of rushing to correct them, have a conversation. Listen with the intent to understand, not to respond. Trust is built when we validate each other’s thoughts, even if we don’t always agree. 2. Praise Instead of Criticize "The best of you are those who are best to their families, and I am the best among you to my family." (Ibn Majah) How often do we praise our spouse’s strengths? It’s easy to notice what they do wrong, but do we acknowledge what they do right? Shift your focus from their flaws to their virtues, and make it a habit to appreciate them—both privately and in front of others. 3. Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff At the end of the day, does it really matter if the shoes are left in the lounge?or if the toothpaste lid is left open? Yes it does, but is it enough to compromise your peace? Instead of dwelling on the minor irritations, think of all the kindnesses your spouse has shown you. *A moment of patience in frustration can prevent hours of regret.* Marriage Is a Choice—So Is Acceptance Marriage is not a fairytale; it is a commitment that requires effort, patience, and, above all, acceptance. The next time you find yourself irritated by a habit or a flaw, ask yourself: Is this worth my peace? Acceptance doesn’t mean there won’t be challenges—it means choosing to navigate them with love, understanding, and trust. When we learn to accept, we build confidence in our relationship, allowing us to weather any storm together. May Allah bless our marriages with tranquility, love, and endless growth. Ameen.

Garments For Each Other

2/25/2025, 4:25:50 PM

*The Power of Acceptance in Marriage:* *A Path to Lasting Love* *Garments for Each Other ©* *Post#1* "The most complete of the believers in faith are those with the best character. And the best of you are those who are best to their wives." (Tirmidhi) Many of us embark on the journey of marriage with hearts full of dreams, shaped by the ideals of love we see in movies and songs. We envision a perfect partner, a flawless relationship—but reality soon sets in. The small quirks, the daily frustrations, and the unnoticed habits begin to chip away at our expectations. The truth is, a strong marriage is not built on perfection, but on continuous growth and learning. The moment we fall into the trap of believing that our relationship is "perfect," we stop working on it—and that’s when cracks begin to form. Allah reminds us in the Qur’an: “Your spouses are a garment for you as you are for them.” (Quran, 2:187) Being a garment for the spouse is not meant to be effortless, but rather a journey of mutual understanding, respect, and, most importantly, acceptance. The First Principle: *Acceptance* Imagine the peace that fills your heart when you surrender to Qadr (divine decree). Acceptance in marriage is similar—it is the conscious choice to embrace your spouse for who they are, rather than who you want them to be. The energy spent on criticism and correction can instead be invested in nurturing and strengthening your bond. It’s natural to accept things beyond our control—a baby catching a cold , a sudden power outage, or the honking of traffic. Yet, when it comes to things we believe we can change, resistance creeps in. The quirks of our spouse, the small habits that irritate us, suddenly become monumental. When we first get married, everything feels perfect. The "honeymoon phase" is euphoric, and flaws seem insignificant. But as time goes on, small annoyances start to surface: 📍He always leaves his dirty socks on the settee 📍Why can't he be considerate enough to wipe the toilet seat 📍She never makes the bed . 📍I can hear his loud chewing again... 📍Why does she always get irritated and complain about everything? 📍Why can't she wear what I like ? These seemingly trivial issues, if left unchecked, become seeds of resentment. What begins as an eye-roll over a misplaced shoe can snowball into deep-seated frustration. I, too, have been there—my husband’s habit of leaving his shoes in the lounge has tested my patience more times than I can count. A simple misplaced pair of shoes can, in moments of built-up stress, become the reason for an argument that spirals into unrelated grievances. But here’s the hard truth: we allow these things to bother us. So, how do we move past these frustrations and truly embrace acceptance? To learn about how to embrace acceptance stay tuned for more...👍

Garments For Each Other

2/16/2025, 6:27:59 AM

*Shezana’s Diary* *Garments for Each Other ©* *Sunday, February 16, 2025* Dear Diary, Bismillah. The world is still dark when I wake up for Fajr, the hush of dawn wrapping the house in a quiet calm. The air is cool, crisp. I pull my shawl tighter around me as I make wudhu, the icy water jolting my senses awake. There’s something so soothing about the stillness of the early morning—just me, my prayer mat, and the whisper of Qur’an filling the space. I complete my Fajr Salah and sit on the musalla, knees folded, hands raised in du‘a. My morning adhkar flow easily from my lips—each word a shield, a protection, a light for the day ahead. The sun has barely begun to rise, and already, my heart feels full. But then, as I sip on my cup of steaming tea, my mind starts to drift. The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of emotions. Proposals, decisions, anxieties. It’s strange how life moves so fast. I think back to the first proposal—the one that came so suddenly, the one that I was super - excited about... The boy’s family decided I wasn’t the right fit for them. Their polite rejection came wrapped in carefully chosen words, but rejection, no matter how softly delivered, always carries a sting. "Sorry bhai, we really liked Shezana but.... ." Those words echoed in my mind for days. At first, I felt embarrassed, then hurt, then strangely numb. Did I lack something? Was there something about me that wasn’t good enough? And then, of course, came the unsolicited advice from every direction: "You people should have done proper investigations ." "Maybe next time..." And the list goes on... It was overwhelming. Everyone had an opinion, but nobody understood how it actually felt. Then, just as I was trying to process it all, another proposal came. I did my Istikhara, prayed, gave sadaqah, and approached it with an open heart. I genuinely tried. But every morning, I woke up with a strange heaviness in my chest—an unease that refused to leave. I pushed it aside, tried again, and yet, it always returned. I know people might assume that I declined because of cultural differences, or that Ammi influenced my decision. But the truth is, this was purely between me and Allah. My heart simply did not settle, and I had to listen to that. Now, I wonder—how did he feel about it? Did he feel the sting of rejection the way I had? Did he question his worth, wonder what had gone wrong? Obviously I didn't mean to hurt anyone. Now I understand no one meant to hurt me. It makes so much sense now, what Apa used to tell me: "Rejection is not about you. It’s about something that didn’t agree with the other person." SubhanAllah, how true that is. There is no blame, no failure—just destiny unfolding as it is meant to. I am grateful, really. In such a short time, I have already received two proposals. That in itself is a blessing. I pray that something good, something right for me, will come my way. But for now, my heart is elsewhere. *Ramadan is around the corner.* The thought fills me with a sense of anticipation, a quiet joy that bubbles in my chest. The month of mercy, of purification, of deep connection with Allah. The very air feels different in Ramadan, like the world is coated in a layer of barakah. I can already picture it—the soft glow of the masjid lights, the duas and waiting for maghreb azhaan, the scent of dates and warm soup at iftar, the soothing hum of Qur’an recitation in the stillness of the night. This year, I want to push myself. I want to complete an entire Qur’an every three days, reciting 10 Juz a day. I know it will be challenging, but the thought of immersing myself so deeply in the words of Allah makes my heart race with excitement. I reach for my notebook and begin writing down my Ramadan goals: Complete the Qur’an every three days. Recite 1000 salawaat every day. Pray every Salah on time, no matter what. Make sincere du‘a at every Suhoor and Iftar. Give as much sadaqah as possible. Limit idle talk, social media, and distractions. I take a deep breath and then write down my Suhoor and Iftar du‘as—ones that I plan to read every day, asking Allah for guidance, barakah, and forgiveness. Then, suddenly, I remember something a friend once told me. "Girls who wish to get married soon should write down Surah Ahzaab and keep it safely in one place." I smile at the thought. Surah Ahzaab is long—really long. Writing it down will take time. But what is time if it is spent in an act of devotion? Maybe this is an opportunity to pour my hopes onto paper, to let my fingers trace the words that will bring barakah into my life. "Wow, that’s a long surah," I murmur to myself, stretching my fingers. I might as well begin now so I can finish before Ramadan. With a newfound sense of purpose, I reach for my pen, open a fresh notebook, and begin writing: "Bismillahir Rahmanir Raheem…" And just like that, a new journey begins. Love Shezana

Garments For Each Other

2/12/2025, 4:28:09 PM

*Shezana’s Diary* *Garments for Each Other ©* *Wednesday, February 12, 2025* Dear Diary, Tonight is the night. The night I have been dreading and waiting for all at once. My heart feels like it’s caught in a tug-of-war between relief and guilt. I spent the entire day in an anxious haze—my mind replaying every thought, every possibility, every consequence. I could barely focus on anything. Even the usual comfort of Madressa felt distant today. My hands have been cold, my stomach unsettled, my breathing slightly uneven. It’s not fear, exactly, but a heaviness that refuses to lift. I know I have to face Abbu tonight. The house feels quieter than usual, though I know it's just my own nervousness amplifying the silence. I hesitate outside Abbu’s room for a moment, taking deep, steadying breaths before I finally step inside. My eyes stay lowered as I walk toward him, every step feeling like I’m treading through thick air. I sit down beside him, my hands clasped in my lap, willing them to stop trembling. Abbu places his warm, calloused hand on my head, a touch so gentle yet so full of strength. My heart clenches. This is the man who has protected me all my life, who has always wanted the best for me. I don’t want to disappoint him. “Shezana,” he says softly, “what have you thought about the proposal?” I slowly lift my gaze, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “Abbu…” My voice is quieter than I expected. “I have been doing Istikhara for the past few days. I’ve been making lots of du‘as and giving sadaqah as well. But every morning, I wake up with an uneasy feeling. I try to brush it off, to keep myself busy, to do Istikhara again—but the same feeling returns the next morning. It lingers, Abbu. And I’ve learned enough to know that I cannot ignore it.” I pause for a moment, gathering the courage to say the next part. “I’m really sorry, Abbu. I didn’t want to let you down. Please don’t, for even a moment, think that I am declining because of the cultural difference. I did Istikhara with a clear mind. And please don’t think that Ammi influenced me in any way. This decision… this feeling… it’s mine alone.” A thick silence settles between us. I feel my heart pounding against my ribs. I brace myself for disappointment, maybe even sadness in Abbu’s eyes. But instead, he leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. When he pulls back, there’s a small, understanding smile on his face. “I knew my daughter would never disappoint me,” he says. “We gave the boy a fair chance. He is not written in your taqdeer, and that is enough for me.” A sharp exhale leaves my lips, as if I had been holding my breath for days. Relief floods through me so suddenly that I feel lightheaded. I glance at Ammi, who has been quiet all this time, and for the first time in weeks, she looks truly at ease. The worry lines on her forehead smooth out, and she offers me a relieved smile. I sit with them for a little while, absorbing this moment, letting it settle into my bones. Then, finally, I retreat to my room. And that’s when it hits me. The weight that has been pressing against my chest for weeks—the tension, the uncertainty, the unspoken burden—it’s gone. Just like that. I feel free. Free in a way I hadn’t even realized I needed to be. Ya Allah, You are the best of planners. Today, I feel that more than ever. Shezana

Garments For Each Other

2/5/2025, 6:55:56 PM

*Shezana’s Diary* *Garments for Each Other ©* *Wednesday , February 5, 2025* I’m back home. The holiday was exactly what I needed. My mind feels light, my heart less burdened. But now that I’m here, reality is knocking again. This afternoon, I have to go to Madressa. I’m still debating whether I’m ready to face the world again—the whispers, the pity, the unsolicited advice. Part of me wants to stay cocooned in the peace I found over the weekend, but another part of me knows I can’t hide forever. I decide to meet Apa in the morning. I don’t know why, but something tells me she’ll have the words I need to hear. It’s drizzling lightly when I step out. The smell of rain lingers in the air, earthy and fresh. The sky is painted in soft grey hues, the kind that make the world feel still, like it’s pausing to breathe. When I reach Apa’s house, she opens the door with the warmest smile. “Oh, Shezana! It’s so good to see you.” The warmth in her voice wraps around me like a comforting blanket. She leads me inside and puts the kettle on. The sound of water bubbling is oddly soothing, filling the quiet morning with its soft rhythm. As we sip our coffee, Apa speaks about Taqdeer—Allah’s divine plan. “Acceptance, my dear, is not weakness. It is strength. When we truly accept Allah’s decree, our hearts stop resisting, and life becomes lighter. Struggling against what is already written only makes us restless. But when we embrace Taqdeer with open arms, we find Qana’at—contentment. And Qana’at brings peace like nothing else.” I listen, absorbing her words like a parched desert drinking in the rain. “You see, Shezana,” she continues, “sometimes Allah removes something from our lives not as a punishment, but as protection. When you trust that what He has written is better than what you wanted, you will feel relief instead of regret.” I leave Apa’s home feeling lighter. She was right. Holding on to disappointment is like holding onto thorns—it only hurts me. When I reach home, the delicious aroma of biryani fills the house. Ammi, in her usual way, has made my favorite apple and celery salad to go with it. The warmth of home, the sound of my family’s chatter, and the first bite of that flavorful biryani—it all makes me grateful. Maybe my life isn’t going according to my plan, but it is still filled with love. I pack my Madressa bag, take a deep breath, and step out. To my relief, Madressa is… normal. Everyone is kind, treating me just like before. No awkward glances, no pitiful sighs. I had spent so much time worrying about people’s reactions, but in the end, people move on. And so must I. When I return home, the sky has darkened, and a soft breeze sways the curtains. I switch on the kettle, and my favorite nasheed is playing on Radio Islam—Kun Sa’eedan… Be happy. I hum along as I prepare my tea. Just then, Rehana walks into the kitchen, spreading peanut butter on her bread. She takes a bite, then suddenly says, “You know Ammi and Abbu were having a heated discussion?” I stop humming. My parents? Heated discussion? That’s rare. “About what?” I ask, my curiosity piqued. Rehana hesitates, then shrugs. “I think… a proposal.” I freeze, the cup of tea halfway to my lips. “For goodness’ sake, a proposal?!” She doesn’t say anything, just continues eating. The silence is thick with unspoken thoughts. “Should I ask Ammi?” I whisper. “No, of course not,” Rehana says quickly. We both fall silent. The air is heavy with apprehension. What’s going on? Why haven’t they said anything? I don’t know whether to feel anxious or just wait. But something tells me, whatever it is… I’ll find out soon enough. *Shezana*

Garments For Each Other

2/7/2025, 2:00:47 PM

*Shezana’s Diary* *Garments for Each Other ©* *Friday 7th February 2025*  Dear Diary, The entire day passes in restless anticipation. Rehana and I exchange glances every time Ammi and Abbu sit together, hoping—praying—that they will finally tell us what is going on. But they don’t. By late afternoon, impatience gets the better of us. We tiptoe towards the living room, trying to catch snippets of their conversation. “…he’s a pious boy.” “…works for an engineering firm…” “…earns well, stable…” That is all we manage to hear before Ammi’s voice rises, sharp with frustration. “…but he’s from a different culture! How can we even consider this? It’s impossible!” Rehana and I look at each other, startled. A different culture? My stomach tightens. I have no idea what to expect. We creep back to our room, minds racing. Rehana sits cross-legged on the bed and turns to me. “Sis, do you think you’re ready to consider a proposal?” I swallow hard. “I don’t know… maybe. It’s too soon, but at the same time, I feel like I need to prove to the world that there’s nothing wrong with me.” Rehana frowns. “That’s crazy, Sis. You don’t have to prove anything.” I sigh. “I know. But you don’t understand how it feels… the stares, the whispers, the pity. It’s suffocating.” Rehana doesn’t reply. Instead, she gets up and stretches. “Come on, let’s take our coffee outside. The air might do you some good.” We take our mugs and a plate of warm cinnabons, stepping into the garden. The evening breeze is cool, carrying the faint scent of roses and freshly dampened soil. The sky is painted in hues of soft pink and lavender, and the chirping of birds blends harmoniously with the rustling leaves. Sipping my coffee, I feel some of the tension melt away. The bitterness of the brew mixes perfectly with the sweet, cinnamon-spiced buns. For a moment, I allow myself to savor the simple pleasure of warm coffee on a crisp evening. But then, just as I am about to take another sip, Ammi’s voice cuts through the quiet. “Girls, Abbu is calling you.” Rehana and I exchange a glance—half curiosity, half apprehension. Without a word, we stand up and follow her inside. As we enter Ammi’s room, Abbu is seated on the bed, a book open in his hands. He doesn’t look up immediately. His forehead is creased, his expression tense. Slowly, he places the book aside and looks at us. After a bit of formal conversation, he says, “Beta, we have a bit of a dilemma here.” I straighten. “Jee, Abbu. How can we help?” He exhales deeply, glancing down for a moment before speaking. “There’s a proposal. The boy is good—well-settled, responsible. The family is respectable, and we know them well. All feedback about him has been excellent. But…” He pauses. I lean in, heart pounding. “But what, Abbu?” Before Abbu can speak, Ammi’s voice breaks in, sharp with emotion. “But he’s Moroccan! His family is completely different from ours. How will Shezana ever cope in a household with a different language, culture, and traditions? This is madness! Someday they will go back to their country!” My heart thuds against my ribs. A Moroccan boy? My mind immediately jumps to Salim Qasim from the end of the street. How did that happen? So there was probably a pity party on my behalf and someone decided to feel sorry me!! Abbu’s jaw tightens. “We are all Muslims, and we’ve known this family for years. The boy has literally grown up in front of our eyes. Just because he’s from a different country doesn’t mean he’s not suitable.” Ammi folds her arms, her eyes flashing with frustration. “Cultural barriers destroy marriages, you know that. The way they eat, the way they dress, the way they do things—it’s all different from us. Their language is different… How can you expect my daughter to adjust to all that?” Abbu sighs, rubbing his temples. “I met with some scholars, and they said that if the proposal is good, she should consider it. Islam does not put restrictions on marriage based on race or culture. If his deen and character are good, we shouldn’t reject him over this.” I sit frozen, my hands clenched in my lap. This isn’t just about a proposal anymore. This is a battle—a battle between what is familiar and what is foreign, between logic and emotion, between fear and faith. Ammi turns to me, her voice gentler now. “Beta, you don’t have to agree to this. But you must understand—marriage isn’t just about the individual, it’s about two families coming together. It’s about lifelong understanding. And I fear that no matter how good this boy is, life in a Moroccan household will be too difficult for you.” I swallow hard. “Ammi… I don’t even know what to think.” Ammi’s frustration rises again. Her voice shakes with emotion. “It’s like we are showing the world how desperate we are… We will just settle for whatever comes!!” Abbu places a gentle hand on my shoulder. “There is no pressure, beta. I want you to do Istikhara for a week and then let us know your thoughts.” Dear Diary, Do you feel the weight in my words as I write? Do you sense the burden pressing on my heart? Just when I think I am healing, I am moving forward… now, I feel like I am slipping again, back into that dark pit of uncertainty. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to feel. And most of all—I don’t know what is written for me in my taqdeer. Ya Allah, guide me. *Shezana*

Garments For Each Other

2/21/2025, 4:21:46 AM

*Shezana’s Diary* *Garments for Each Other ©* *Friday , February 21, 2025* Bismillah. It's five days but it feels like just yesterday I was sitting on my musalla, writing down my Ramadan goals, planning how to make this year the most spiritually fulfilling one yet. And now—just nine days left. SubhanAllah. My heart flutters at the thought. There’s something about Ramadan that makes me feel alive in a way nothing else does. The world slows down, distractions fade, and suddenly, it’s just me and my Rabb. The air changes, the atmosphere shifts—it’s as though the doors of mercy are already opening, waiting to welcome us. I will spend part of today revisiting my goals, making sure they’re not just words on a page but an actual plan in motion. Ten Juz a day. 1000 salawaat daily. Maximum du‘a at Suhoor and Iftar. No idle talk. No unnecessary distractions. It sounds ambitious, but I want to push myself this year. There’s no guarantee of another Ramadan. I have to work on time management. There are so many Pre Ramadan workshops, in sha Allah, I will attend those too. I went to the kitchen earlier, checking the pantry, making mental notes of what needs to be stocked before the rush begins. I want to prepare as much as I can beforehand so I don’t get caught up in the little things when the blessed days arrive. I want my days to be filled with Qur’an, dhikr, and reflection—not standing in the kitchen for hours worrying about iftar. Alhamdulillah, things at home feel normal now. Ammi and Abbu are okay, carrying on as if the past few weeks of proposals and decisions never happened. I think they’re just relieved I made my choice with clarity. Ammi, especially, looks lighter—maybe because she was afraid I’d feel pressured, or that my decision wouldn’t be fully mine. But now, it’s behind us. A closed chapter. And that’s okay. Still, I can’t help but reflect on why marriage feels like such an urgent expectation, especially for women. Society puts so much pressure on us—questions, unsolicited advice, opinions that nobody asked for. "Oh, but don’t wait too long." "A girl should marry when the right proposal comes, not when she feels like it." "You’re lucky you’re still receiving proposals at your age." The weight of these words sits heavily on my shoulders sometimes. But Apa always tells me, “Marriage is not a race. It’s not just about finding someone, it’s about being ready—emotionally, mentally, spiritually.” And she’s right. It’s one thing to want to get married, and another to actually be prepared for what it means. The responsibility, the compromise, the patience. Marriage is not just a fairytale; it’s a test of character, of endurance, of Tawakkul. And if I’m being honest with myself, I know I still have so much growth to do before I step into that chapter of my life. Maybe that’s why Ramadan feels so important this year. Maybe it’s Allah’s way of giving me the space to focus inward, to strengthen my heart before I worry about anything else. A gift. A reset. I still have *Surah Ahzaab* to finish writing. It’s long, but each word feels like a step toward something greater. I don’t know when my qismat will unfold, but I do know that Allah’s timing is always perfect. So for now, I will pour my heart into preparing for Ramadan, into becoming the best version of myself—not for anyone else, but for my Rabb. Because when the time is right, everything will fall into place. And inshaAllah, I will be ready. Love Shezana

Garments For Each Other

2/8/2025, 3:12:57 AM

*ALLAH'S INTERCESSION FOR THE WIVES*  *Post#3* *Garments for Each Other ©* *Saturday 8th Feb 2025* Since most husbands have broken their wives’ hearts or have mistreated them, the most sensible thing to do now is to love them more than ever. Love them more than they deserve! If treated right with love and respect (according to the Shariah) the wife will certainly do her utmost to please her husband. She will respond to love with sincere affection and reply to respect with admiration and esteem. Therefore, if one glances into the Prophet (Sallal lahu alaihi wasallam )’s life then one does not find a better example for ‘standard of living’ than the Beloved Master (Sallal lahu alaihi wasallam ).When the Prophet (sallal lahu alaihi wasallam ) proclaimed prophethood then who affirmed and believed in him first? His beloved wife was deeply impressed by his good behaviour and excellent conduct. If husbands were to follow the Supreme example of the Prophet (Sallal lahu alaihi wasallam ), lead their lives according to the Sacred Sunnah then their wives will become their followers and devotees.If the wives are not devoted to their husbands and are not abiding by their rules like good followers then this means that the husbands are not leading their lives according to the Sunnah also. It is my heartfelt prayer that Allah guides the husbands on the path of Sunnah and Shariah so that their wives become their devotees and followers.  May Allah accept our duas. Ameen.  Taken from - : *‘Working Towards an Exemplary Married Life*-  by *Shaikh Zulfiqar Ahmad Naqshbandi db*

Garments For Each Other

2/3/2025, 5:02:11 PM

*ALLAH TA’ALA’S INTERCESSION FOR THE WIVES* *Garments for Each Other ©* *Monday 3rd February 2025* Ponder over this! Husbands contemplate on this! When an important person intercedes on behalf of someone then his intercession is often accepted. If the father intercedes for somebody the son will regard his father’s esteem and accept his intercession. Likewise if the Sheikh (spiritual guide) advices his disciple to do something then due to the awe and respect in his heart for the Sheikh the disciple will certainly comply. Similarly if by virtue of a dream a person is instructed by the Prophet (Sallal lahu alaihi wasallam ) to perform a certain task then he will definitely carry it out thinking of it as his Master (sallal lahu alaihi wasallam )’s command. Ponder over this! Allah (SWT) intercedes on behalf of the wives in the Holy Qur’aan. Allah (SWT) distinguished that women are the weaker gender and therefore commanded in the Qur’aan, “Wa ashiruhunna bil ma’ruf” وعاشروهن بالعروف He instructed the husbands to keep their wives properly. This Supreme order was in support of the women. The Mufassireen have stated that the one who obeys Allah’s command and considers His Divine intercession will be exempt from the fire of jahannum on the Day of judgement. Whereas the one who ignores this Supreme intercession will be fettered in chains and will be accountable for every single misdeed. Therefore it is my heartfelt desire that this verse of the Holy Qur’aan should be noted and framed in such a place where one will see, read and ponder over daily. وعاشرؤھن بالمعروف Husbands ought to pay heed and keep in mind Allah’s intercession on behalf of their wives and be devoted, loving and affectionate towards them. Taken from - : *Working Towards An Exemplary Married Life* by *Shaikh Zulfiqar Ahmad Naqshbandi Db.*