*Shezana’s Diary* *Garments For Each Other* *Monday , 9th June 2025* Third Day of Eid Dear Diary, Bismillah. Ya Allah, allow me to preserve these sacred memories like petals pressed between the pages of my heart. Eid two days ago was unlike any Eid I've ever experienced. I still feel the tremble in my hands from what we did that morning—something raw, real, spiritual. For the first time in my life, I took part in the Qurbani—not just watching from the windows or helping in the kitchen, but standing beside my family and slaughtering the animal with my own hands. After Eid Salah, Dad (my father-in-law) came home, swapped his pristine white thobe for rugged blue denim overalls, sharpened his knives with care, and called us—Mum, Ameera, and me. "Come," he said, "Let us fulfil the Sunnah of our father Ibrahim عليه السلام." As we stood beside the ram, sunlight filtering through the leaves above, Dad (my father in law) looked at each of us and said with a soft but firm voice: My heart was racing. The ram stood, calm and beautiful, unaware of the honour that awaited him. As we gathered around, Dad looked at us, his eyes full of gravity and warmth. "Do you know what sacrifice really means?" he began, his voice steady. "It’s not just about blood and meat. Ibrahim ‘alayhis salaam didn’t just slaughter an animal. He submitted. Fully. He surrendered what he loved most. Qurbani is about what you are willing to give up for Allah. Are you willing to let go of your pride, your ego, your grudges, your comforts... for Him?" I was awed. I had never heard it explained like that. He then continued, gently holding the ram, reciting the du’a out loud. "Bismillahi Allahu Akbar. Allahumma taqabbal minnaa kama taqabbalta min Habeebika Muhammadin sallallahu alaihi wasallam wa min Khalilika Ibrahima alaihis salaam." My hands trembled. My heart beat in my ears.. " It’s about the surrender. It’s about placing your deepest attachments before Allah and saying, 'Ya Allah, You come first.'" Dad said with emotion. His words pierced something within me. There was stillness. I felt the moment stretching—heavy with meaning. I hesitated when it was my turn. My hands shook slightly, and my gaze dropped to the earth. My husband stepped forward, gently took my hand in his and whispered, " Recite your Dua. I’m right here. Bismillah, trust your heart. Allah sees the intention." Dad held the ram firmly, reciting the dua, and I followed. The blade moved, and with it, something released in my soul. I felt empowered, connected, and strangely uplifted. Later, I even asked to do one on my own—and I was allowed. The last animal—a cute brown and white one, a gentle-eyed goat—was designated as a Qurbani for the Prophet ﷺ. I was given the honor. Ya RasulAllah ﷺ, I thought, this is for you. My eyes welled with tears as the blade descended. That memory is sealed in my heart forever. By mid-morning, the aroma of fresh mutton kalya and slow-cooked paya drifted through the house. My mum had made it especially using the meat of the first slaughtered animal, for breakfast. Cinnamon, cardamom, rich desi ghee, and that unmistakable depth of flavor that only mum’s hands can create. Rehana’s family came, so did Zahra’s, and our parents too. We all gathered around the table—hands stained with the memories of sacrifice, hearts softened by reunion. Everyone laughed, shared, ate in harmony. After Asr prayer, my husband and I went to deliver meat to his uncles and a few neighbors. As we drove back it was Maghreb time and the sky opened up into a masterpiece. Hues of rose gold and dusky lavender melted across the horizon. The clouds parted like veils, and for a few seconds, the sun looked like a shy bride peeking from behind them. He looked over and smiled. “You make all my sunsets feel like poetry.” I laughed and rested my head on his shoulder. “And you make my Qurbani day feel like real Eid.” Ya Allah, keep us wrapped in this warmth, in Your mercy. Keep our homes filled with love, sacrifice, and sincerity. Let us be garments for one another—protecting, comforting, covering. Allah Ta’āla says in the Quran, “They are garments for you, and you are garments for them.” Later in the evening, Ameera’s friends came over for her Eid BBQ. Freshly marinated lamb chops, beef hump, and goat ribs sizzled over the coals. Smoky, tender, and perfectly spiced—served with yogurt chutney, buttered braised mushrooms, and grilled vegetables. The laughter of girls filled the garden as they played charades and an Islamic trivia game I had prepared on resisting peer pressure. One of the activities I called, “Choices in the Crossroad”. I gave them scenarios: – “Your friends are adding a boy to your group chat. Do you leave quietly or speak up?” – “You’re pressured to dress a certain way to be accepted at school. Do you follow or reflect?” The girls were so engaged—debating, reflecting. After the game, I gave a small pep talk, nothing too preachy, just from my heart. "Girls," I said, "peer pressure is real. But so is your worth. Remember who you are. You don't have to please people. You have to be true to Allah and yourself. Courage is saying 'no' when it's easiest to say 'yes'." Salma spoke first saying, “It’s so hard Shezana Apa, you feel like the odd one out!!” “You are not here to blend in—you are here to shine. Modesty is not old-fashioned; it’s sacred. If a friend sees your worth only in your branded clothes, a dimpled smile or velvet skin, then that friend has no idea what a soul truly carries. Guard your heart, girls. Don’t offer pieces of it to people who don't understand.” “But Shezana Apa, everyone has boyfriends and everyone talks about them. People look at us weirdly.. like are you straight? How come you don't have a boy… I don't know if you get what I am saying.. “ *I understand, it must be so difficult. This is your battle against your nafs.”I said. I took a deep breath asked Allah to guide me with the right things to say. Then I continued. “You are in the most beautiful season of your life. You’re discovering who you are, growing into your identity, and learning to navigate a world full of glitter, noise, and distractions. But among all the changes, remember this: your modesty—your haya—is one of your most priceless treasures.Haya is not weakness. It is strength. It is light. It is dignity.” One of them, Fatima, teared up. Another said softly, “I never thought of it that way.” “ Yes, girls . In a world where people are quick to show everything and feel nothing, your ability to guard your heart, to protect your gaze, and to carry yourself with dignity sets you apart. Don't let anyone make you feel like you're “too shy” or “too old-fashioned” for choosing to preserve your chastity. You're not. You're noble. You're wise.” “Is it ok to just do permissible things to fit in? “ Sakina asked innocently. “Like? I asked gently “Wearing crop tops and jeans inside the abaya like just to fit in. Not removing the Abaya or anything of that sort? “ I felt stuck with that question then a Hadeeth of the Prophet ﷺ came to mind. “Our Prophet ﷺ said, “Indeed, Haya does not bring anything except good.” I quoted, “Why would you want to strip your Haya bit by bit just to fit in. Every time you wear clothes like that a bit of your haya vanishes. “ “O Shezana Apa, this is so deep… and tough! You know there's this guy in school and all the girls talk about him. So does this mean each time we take part in the convo a bit of haya vanishes? ” “Yup you got it girl! “I felt happy they were understanding. “So what do we do if a boy texts or compliments like just by the way… “ Hina asked “There will be boys. There will be compliments. There will be those who message you and make your heart skip. But listen carefully, my dear: Not every boy who calls you "beautiful" is worthy of your beauty. Not every boy who praises your soul deserves a piece of it. Your heart is not a playground. Your body is not a public story. Your soul is not a place for temporary visitors. It is a sanctuary. Allah made you special. And that specialness is meant to be gifted once—to the man who asks for your hand in marriage, not the one who slides into your DMs or flirts in a hallway. Preserve your chastity like a pearl hidden in its shell. When the right one comes, he will value that purity, that restraint, that sacredness. Imagine telling your husband one day, “I kept myself just for you.” That is a gift more precious than gold.” “That sounds soppy now. We are too young to think of husbands!! “ one of them laughed. I continued, “You are not missing out by saying “no” to boys. You are not being left behind by avoiding secret conversations. You are honouring yourself. And when temptation comes—and it will—remember… "Whoever leaves something for the sake of Allah, Allah will replace it with something better." Better love. Better friendships. Better peace. Better atmosphere Your journey is yours. Make it beautiful. Guard your heart. Fill it with Qur’an. Fill it with dreams. Fill it with love for Allah and His Rasul ﷺ. And in doing so, you will never walk alone. May Allah protect your Haya, strengthen your resolve, and bless you all with spouses, even if you think you are young now, spouses who see your worth not just in your beauty—but in your loyalty, your patience, your sincerity, and your connection to Allah.” And as they left, some texted Ameera later saying the BBQ was amazing—but Shehzana Apa’s words hit different. Fatima suggested that lets keep a girls’ youth programme once a month and Shezana Apa can guide all the teenage girls. Their messages made my day. I hoped I had been able to get through to them. Zahra, though, seemed quiet. She called me later that night and whispered, “I miss him so much. I will be going back to Australia with mum and get on with my life for now .” “Hold on,” I said, “You’ll be together soon, inshaAllah. Your patience today is your reward tomorrow.” Rehana called to tell me that her mother-in-law had been more polite, though she still expects a lot of kitchen work. She asked if Mum could talk to her again when the moment feels right. I agreed. Mum has that rare gift of diplomacy. Just few days ago she told Rehana’s MIL sweetly when questioned, “Why spoil your bahu like this?”: “She is someone’s daughter before she became my daughter-in-law. I didn’t raise my son to marry a maid. I raised him to marry a partner, a person, a soul Allah entrusted to him.” And then, Rehana sighed and confessed she’s still finding vape pods hidden in her husband's clothes. “I’m going to ask him after these days of Eid,” she said. I suggested a gentle approach: “Say something like, ‘Have you ever vaped before?’ Then let the conversation unfold. If he feels safe, he’ll open up. Don’t make it a courtroom, make it a space.” She nodded. “You’re right. I’ll try that.” What an eventful day!! Ya Allah, bless the Hujjaj as they complete their rites. Accept their Qurbani. Accept ours. Write our names among the Hujjaj for next year. Ya Allah, bring peace to the Ummah, soften our hearts, and fill our homes with barakah. Ameen. *Alhamdulillah* for my first beautiful Eid, my best Eid, with my husband and his family . With love, *Shehzana*🌸