Wednesday, August 20, 2008

SAFIYYAH

“Berhenti! Kurang ajar! Gadis gilaaa!!” Shafiyah berlari lincah. Zig zag dan seketika menyelinap di antara kelompok manusia. Meninggalkan dua Zionis Israel yang mengejarnya dengan nafas yang termengah-mengah.
“Gadis gila! Dia menikam Simon dan merampas senjata daripadaku!” Seru tentera yang berbadan besar sambil terus mengejar. “Dia telah mengambil wangku. Sial!!” Geram si Israel botak. Mereka berdua melilau di kejauhan. Ke mana gadis itu? Hilang di tengah-tengah kesesakan pasar. Dan…nafas si botak tercungap-cungap. Shafiyah ketawa. Setelah agak jauh, dia pun berhenti. Mengelap peluh di dahi dengan hujung tudungnya. Sepucuk senjata dan dompet yang dipenuhi dengan wang yang banyak! Surat-surat penting dikoyak-koyakkannya dan dibuang di sepanjang jalan pasar! Shafiyah membolak balik isi dompet. Sesekali dia menoleh ke belakang, mencari dia zionis Israel yang baru sahaja diperdayakannya! Hah..itu dia si botak dan temannya! Bersusah payah mencelah dalam kesesakan pasar! Shafiyah menyimpan belati di balik stoking kaki, dompet di dalam sakunya, menyandang senapang rampasan dan terus berlari semula…. Akhirnya, das pisto bergema! Pengecut!! Shafiyah berlari semakin cepat, seperti ada kekuatan penuh yang mendorongnya laju bersama angin. Begitu ringan. Orang-orang lain di pasar bertempiaran.
Panik! Tiba-tiba.. “Siapa yang kau kejar?” “Ya..biar kami bantu..” Satu..dua..lima..sepuluh Zionis Israel yang sedang meronda-ronda di sekitar Pasar Wahd, lengkap dengan senjata laras panjang akhirnya bergabung dengan dua tentera Zionis Israel tadi. “Si perampas! Kami mengejar si perampas!!” “Ya..dia sangat merbahaya! Dia membunuh seorang rakan kami!” “Em..mana pemuda itu?” Tanya mereka serentak. Orang-orang di pasar yang mendengar perbualan itu menahan ketawa. Juga berdoa untuk Shafiyah. Orang-orang kafir itu pasti sedang memburu Shafiyah! Muslimah kesayangan Gaza! “..” Beberapa suara gagah menjawab salam Shafiyah. Suara Abu Umar dan beberapa anggota Izzuddin Al-Qassam. “Ini dua laras panjang, tiga laras pendek, sekantung wang dan empat bom tangan.”
Shafiyah menyerahkan semua itu dari balik pintu. “Apakah Abu Umar berkenan menerimanya?” Abu Umar menguak pintu. “Bukankah lebih baik ukhti fillah Shafiyah masuk? Isteri saya ada di belakang.” “Maaf…saya perlu cepat.” Jawabnya ringkas. “Jika begitu, jazakillahu khairan. Fii amanillah ukhti mujahidah!” “Allahu akbar! !” Jawab Shafiyah. Dan seperti hari-hari sebelumnya, suara-suara gagah itu menjawab salam tersebut dengan penuh semangat seraya tidak henti-henti mendoakan Shafiyah. “Siapakah dia sebenarnya ,Abu Umar? Ya..berapakah umurnya? Di mana tempat tinggalnya? Siapa ahli keluarganya?” “Ishbir ya Jabir,” Abu Umar tersenyum kepada pemuda bernama Jabir itu.
“Nanti saya jelaskan.” Jabir tertunduk malu. Dia tahu para ikhwah masih tersenyum-senyum memandangnya. Bukankah di antara yang hadir hanya dia yang masih belum melengkapkan separuh dien-nya? Shafiyah. Syafiyah! Tiba-tiba nama itu terus bermain-main di benaknya. Turun memasuki relung-relung hatinya. Membawa sinar cahaya. Ah, Jabir menepisnya. Astaghfirullah! “Aku mengenalinya setahun lalu di Ummu Shabrah an-Naqb. Ketika aku melewati jalan sepi di daerah itu bersama isteriku, aku melihat seorang gadis. Dia mengikat seutas tali pada sebatang pohon besar dan turun ke dalam sebuah lubang seperti ladang. Kami memerhatinya…dan terkejut melihatnya mengangkat kerangka manusia dari lading tersebut..” Hening… semua seakan-akan menahan nafas mendengar cerita Abu Umar. “Ke..rangka, maksud Abu Umar, ladang tempat pemukulan oleh para tentera itu…, Shafiyah..”
“Ya, dia yang menemuinya. Dan kami bersama-samanya menghebahkan cerita itu sehingga ramai ikhwah yang membantu mengebumikan kerangka korban Israel beberapa tahun lalu itu.” “Berani sungguh.” Komen Jabir. “Masya Allah..” Yang lain melirik Jabir penuh erti. “Shafiyah sangat keras dan tegas. Mungkin kerana ketika usianya empat belas tahun dia melihat sendiri orang tua dan kakaknya syahid ditembak Zionis Israel ketika baru keluar dari rumah mereka. Dia terselamat kerana keistimewaan yang diberikan Allah kepadanya. Pelari! Dia seorang pelari pecut dan ahli bela diri!.” “Jadi, di mana tempat tinggalnya?” Tanya seorang pemuda. “Aku pernah mengajaknya tinggal bersamaku. Tetapi dia masih memiliki pakcik di Kfar Darom. Dia jarang ke sana. Dia tahu, tentu sahaja Zionis Israel mampu mencarinya. Kini usianya tujuh belas tahun.”
Pagi itu, Shafiyah asyik mengetap-getap bibir bawahnya. Mencari akal bagaimana untuk merampas senjata milik dua Zionis Israel tidak jauh di hadapannya. Keningnya berkerut seketika. Tiba-tiba…entah dari mana kedengaran gemuruh suara Zionis Israel, tank dan hingar bingar tembakan senjata di Nablus! “Kalau begini bagaimana nak kurampas..” Bisiknya sendirian. Shafiyah ingin mengetahui apa yang terjadi. Seketika dilihatnya barisana kaum muslimin. Para lelaki yang mengenakan selubung sebagai penutup muka begitu ramai. Mereka melaungkan takbir dan yel-yel HAMAS! Mereka mahasiswa yang datang dari Universiti Najah! “Kita semua adalah Shalahuddin… adalah Ayyash dan Imad Ageel! Hidup Sheikh Ahmad Yassin! Halau Israel dari Jabal Abu Ghneim! Bebaskan Palestine dengan darahmu! Allahu Akbar!!! Teriak mereka sambil melemparkan batu kepada Israel. Tanpa berfikir panjang lagi, Shafiyah bergabung dengan barisan Muslimin. Memungut dan melemparkan batu kepada iblis-iblis yang berserakan di sana-sini. Ini adalah protes atas kekejaman Ariel dan barisan sekutunya. Shafiyah tahu, itulah kebiadaban Yahudi Israel yang sambil menyiksa dan menyembelih kaum muslimin..masih sibuk mempersipakan berbagai ‘pesta pembangunan’ di kawasan penduduk Palstine. Juga tipu helah Israel, mereka adalah anak manis yang cintakan kedamaian dan hanya membela diri daripada ‘terrorist’ Palestin.
Gila!!! Tentera Zionis Israel itu semakin mengganas. Kebisingan senjata dan bom bersahutan di udara. Gas pemedih mata terus dilepaskan ke arah mahasiswa. Senja berdarah di Nablus! Langit… bumi dan batuan menjadi saksi. Tentera Zionis Israel telah membuktikan keganasan dan kebiadaban! Puluhan pemuda ditangkap. Beberapa pejuang syahid dengan wajah yang tak mampu untuk dikenali lagi! Shafiyah berlari menuju ke rumah Abu Umar. Air matanya berderaian. Dalam beg sempang tuanya mengandungi beberapa barang rampasan walaupun tidak banyak. Tiba-tiba tidak jauh di hadapannya, kelihatan 3 Zionis Israel menyeret tubuh seorang pemuda. Shafiyah terkesima. Rasa-rasanya dia mengenali pemuda itu. Siapa dan di mana?…. Diletaknya beg sempang di sebalik sebuah pohon besar… “Katakan, ya atau tidak kau orang HAMAS!! Katakan cepat!” Shafiyah menangkap jelas kata-kata itu. Dan.. Shafiyah merasa dia tidak boleh meninggalkan pemuda itu dalam kesusahan. Dia harus berbuat sesuatu untuk membantunya. Jangan sampai pemuda itu mengaku dia pemuda HAMAS. Batalion Izzuddin Al-Qassam! Dada Shafiyah berdegup kencang ketika dia semakin dekat. Dia benar-benar berserah kepada Allah… “Dasar suami tak bertanggung jawab…!! Anakmu menangis di rumah… dan aku yang sakit ini harus mencarimu! Kerjamu hanya menghabiskan wang saje…” Kata-kata itu meluncur begitu sahaja dari mulut Shafiyah. Dilihatnya pemuda itu tercengang-cengang kehairanan. “Kau terkejut?” Shafiyah memegang hujung baju pemuda itu dan menariknya. “Balik!! Balik!! Aku cakap balik!! Lelaki lupa diri!” Tiga tentera itu tertawa-tawa… “Isteri garang!! Mari kita pergi. Biar sahaja dia dimarahi isteri hingga ke pagi esok!” …“Ya..ha..ha..ha…!!!” “Mulai sekarang… kalau nak hidup macam ni lagi…ceraikan aku! Cepat, adakah kau berani wahai Aba Abbas???? Ssstt.. maafkan, akhi… saya… dasar lelaki tak tahu diuntung!!! Cepat balik!” Pemuda itu masih kebingungan. Shafiyah melihat tiga orang tentera itu berjalan menjauhi mereka dengan masih ketawa. Dan ketika meereka benar-benar telah jauh.. tanpa berkata apa pun… Shafiyah dengan wajah merah berlari. Jabir… pemuda itu ternganga-nganga. Luar biasa tipu daya muslimah ini! Syafiyah? Syafiyah… apakah dia Shafiyah? Jabir tak yakin. Yang pasti..hampir sahaja identitinya terbongkar! Masya Allah! Sebelumnya.. Jabir sedang terhendap-hendap di sebalik semak samun tempat tentera-tentera itu beristirehat. Dia tak berupaya membendung kegeramannya ketika mendengar perbincangan ketiga-tiga tentera itu. Tentera-tentera itu masih berbincang berkenaan topik lain pula… kali ini tentang artis top Israel yang menjadi cover page di harian Haarets.
Sementara itu, tubuh Jabir masih bergetar mendengar kejian Israel terhadap muslimin. Akhirnya dia jatuh tersadung ranting pohon dan menimpa tentera-tentera itu. Begitulah kisahnya! Jazakillah Shafiyah! Kini..maklumat tentera-tentera itu sangatlah berguna. Malam itu di Gaza, dalam sebuah bilik… Shafiyah asyik mengamati sesusuk tubuh dalam foto yang ditemuinya di dalam dompet seorang Zionis yang dirampasnya. Pelik, foto siapakah ini agaknya? Ada tulisan dibawahnya. ‘Rambo Amerika’ . Shafiyah mengangkat bahunya. Foto pelakon dan artis barangkali. Gagah dengan pelbagai senjata yang melingkari tubuhnya. Belati-belati, senjata api, bom, peluru yang berjuntaian bagaikan kalung… Shafiyah bangkit dari duduknya. Perlahan-lahan diambil tali nipis. Dirangkainya beberapa bom tangan yang ditemuinya bagaikan kalung… Dua senapang laras panjang di sandang di sisinya. Beberapa pisau dikumpulkannya di dalam plastik yang diikat dipinggangnya. Juga beberapa peluru. “Rindunya aku padaMu Ya Rabbi…” Katanya sambil tersenyum tanpa resah. Tidak lama selepas itu dia menyiapkan diri. Dia tidak lupa untuk solat hajat. “Bagaimana Abu Umar?” “Tidak Shafiyah. Aku tidak setuju.” “Tapi..” “Seorang wanita… pergi ke markas tentera berseorangan, mengambil senjata… dan meledakkan diri bersama puluhan Zionis Israel. Tidak, Shafiyah!” “Itu kerja yang lebih tepat bagi lelaki!” Kata Abu Umar. “Ya, saya yang akan melakukannya.” “Tidak. Saya saja!” “Insya Allah saya! Saya!! Saya!!” Ruang tamu rumah Abu Umar tiba-tiba riuh rendah oleh suara beberapoa anggota HAMAS. “Sssst!!” Senyap. “Saya yang akan pergi. Izinkanlah!” Kata Jabir tenang.
“Idea Shafiyah memang bagus dan ia haruslah disegerakan. Apatah lagi kita memang memerlukan senjata untuk melawan kebiadaban mereka. Untuk memebebaskan negeri ini daripada penjajahan yang keji!!!” Perbincangan terus berlanjutan. Hampir semua sepakat bahawa Jabir yang akan melaksanakan tugas itu!! Shafiyah akur! Selepas membantu Ummu Umar menyiapkan hidangan, Shafiyah bangun. Dia teringat bahawa pakciknya akan datang menjemputnya. Shafiyah keluar melalui jalan belakang setelah memeluk dan mengucapkan salam kepada Ummu Umar. Fikirannya melayang pada rencana-rencanakan yang bakal dilaksanakan. Ia menoleh sesaat ke belakang dan sempat melihat seseorang mengetuk pintu rumah Abu Umar….
Mata Shafiyah menangkap sekejap… dan sebelum ia menyedari apa yang terjadi… sebuah ledakan yang sangat kuat kedengaran hingga ke udara! Muntahan api di mana-mana. Dalam sesaat rumah Abu Umar hancur lebur! Mulut Shafiyah ternganga. Matanya terbelalak dan kepalanya pening! Kakinya semakin lemah , terpaku di tempat. Nyaris tidak bergerak. Sesuatu menjalar di seluruh tubuhnya. Api! Bara! Amarah yang tidak tertahan! Satu persatu langkahnya diseret dengan penuh keberatan. Abu Umar, Ummu Umar dan bayinya Umar yang masih merah, para anggota HAMAS… air mata Shafiyah menitis. Allah…Allah… Allah… sepanjang jalan, hanya Allah yang dipanggil. Sebulan berlalu… Satu malam. Seorang wanita melintasi Pusat Komando Zionis Israel. “Hai nona manis!” Siulan liar segera menyergah wanita itu. “Mari..mari sini…” Seorang anggota cuba meraihnya. Dengan pantas wanita itu terus bertindak. Hup, hup, hap! Tiga pisau terpacak tepat di jantung dan wajah tentera-tentera itu! Wanita tersebut segera merampas senjata mereka. “Terima kasih. Jangan kalian lupakan aku. Aku Shafiyah. Tidak akan mebiarkan kalian tidur nyenyak atas genangan darah kaum muslimin Palestine!” Seorang daripada mereka cuba membunyikan alarm. Shafiyah mengambil bom tangan dari dalam sakunya dan membuka picu bom dengan mulutnya. “Taaaaaaaaaaaakkkkkkk!!!!” “Terimalah!” Shafiyah berlari bersama angin malam. Satu ledakan kuat kedengaran di udara! Tubuh puluhan penghuni berek pecah berselerakan di bumi. Shafiyah masih berlari bersama angin. Ya… seperti terbang menuju Allah.”

Tuesday, August 19, 2008

a chat with GOD















God: Hello. Did you call me?

Me : Called you? No. Who is this?

God: This is GOD. I heard your prayers. So I thought I will chat.
Me : I do pray. Just makes me feel good. I am actually busy now. I am in the midst of something.

God: What are you busy at? Ants are busy too.
Me: Don't know. But I can't find free time. Life has become hectic. It's rush hour all the time.




God: Sure. Activity gets you busy. But productivity gets you results. Activity consumes time. Productivity frees it.

Me: I understand. But I still can't figure out. By the way, I was not expecting YOU to buzz me on instant messaging chat.


God: Well, I wanted to resolve your fight for time, by giving you some clarity. In this net era, I wanted to reach you through the medium you are comfortable with.
Me: Tell me, why has life become complicated now?


God: Stop analyzing life. Just lives it. Analysis is what makes it complicated.
Me: Why are we then constantly unhappy?


God: Your today is the tomorrow that you worried about yesterday. You are worrying because you are analyzing. Worrying has become your habit. That's why you are not happy.
Me: But how can we not worry when there is so much uncertainty?


God: Uncertainty is inevitable, but worrying is optional.
Me: But then, there is so much pain due to uncertainty...

God: Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.
Me: If suffering is optional, why do good people always suffer?
God: Diamond cannot be polished without friction. Gold cannot be purified without fire. Good people go through trials, but don't suffer. With that experience their life become better, not bitter.

Me: You mean to say such experience is useful?
God: Yes. In every term, Experience is a hard teacher. She gives the test first and the lessons afterwards.

Me: But still, why should we go through such tests? Why can't we be free from problems?
God: Problems are > Purposeful > Roadblocks > Offering > Beneficial > Lessons to > Enhance > Mental > Strength. Inner strength comes from struggle and endurance, not when you are free from problems.

Me: Frankly in the midst of so many problems, we don't know where we are heading...
God: If you look outside you will not know where you are heading. Look inside. Looking outside, you dream. Looking inside, you awaken. Eyes provide sight. Heart provides insight.

Me: Sometimes not succeeding fast seems to hurt more than moving in the right direction. What should I do?
God: Success is a measure as decided by others. Satisfaction is a measure as decided by you. Knowing the road ahead is more satisfying than knowing you rode ahead. You work with the compass. Let others work with the clock.

Me: In tough times, how do you stay motivated?
God: Always look at how far you have come rather than how far you have to go. Always count your blessing, not what you are missing.

Me: What surprises you about people?
God: When they suffer they ask, "why me?" When they prosper, they never ask "Why me?" Everyone wishes to have truth on their side, but few want to be on the side of the truth.

Me: Sometimes I ask, who am I, why am I here. I can't get the answer.
God: Seek not to find who you are, but to determine who you want to be. Stop looking for a purpose as to why you are here. Create it. Life is not a process of discovery, but a process of creation.

Me: How can I get the best out of life?
God: Face your past without regret. Handle your present with confidence. Prepare for the future without fear.


Me: One last question. Sometimes I feel my prayers are not answered.
God: There are no unanswered prayers. At times the answer is NO.


Me: Thank you for this wonderful chat. I am so happy to start the New Day with a new sense of inspiration.

God: Well. Keep the faith and drop the fear. Don't believe your doubts and doubt your beliefs. Life is a mystery to solve, not a problem to resolve. Trust me. Life is wonderful if you know how to live.


hijab

Our Hijab ...
Proud with our Hijab, Niqab and Burqah...

The hair is the crowning glory of every women.

Our long hair professes our beauty and most powerful of our image.

Our eyes speaks louder than our voice.

Our voice speaks louder than our body.

Our body is the very case of our being.

Our softness is a blessing from Allah, the Creator.

But this beauty becomes a medium for sinful eyes.

Allah is indeed Merciful and our Protector.

Alhamdullilah for Hijab...Niqab...and Burqah...

Truly the identity of every Muslimah.

Hijab, a covering that implies inner and outer modesty.

It is quite impossible to see the inside when one observe the outside.

Hijab is not some kind of culture or racial identity.

Rather our hijab is the identity required by Allah.

"Oh Prophet! Tell your wives and your daughters and the women of the believers to draw their cloaks (veils) all over their bodies (i.e. screen themselves completely except the eyes or one eye to see the way). That will be better, that they should be known (as free respectable women so as not to be annoyed.)" (Ahzaab 59)

A Muslimah are accused of having a " fish brain " because of our hijab.

We are accused of being a " terrorist " because of our hijab.

We are accused of being an "Arab" because of our hijab.

We are accused of being an "oppressed "creature because of our hijab.

We are accused of living our lives in the "past" because of our hijab.

We are accused of being over protective of our body because of our hijab.

We are accuse of many thing because of our hijab.

Is this the reason why some of our claiming Muslimah abandoned hijab?

Without the hijab , we are completely stripped naked.

Without hijab , we are completely oppressed and exploited. Without hijab, we are disrespected by those sinful eyes.

Without hijab , we are treated just exactly as a non Muslim.

Without hijab, we lost our outer modesty, more so affects our inner modesty.

Without hijab, we are susceptible in inviting sin ourselves.

Hijab is every Muslimah's shield. The very identity that tells a Muslimah that ," she is another Muslimah", one who pleases Allah by following his commandments.

Hijab serves as a form of dawah for us. It reminds another Muslimah that this is our true identity.

It reminds the whole world that a Muslimah is a unique individual incomparable to other women.

Hijab is what makes a Muslimah.

The very identity of the Muslimaat.

Why she WONT wear hijab!

a discussion by A.Q. Alidost


“I’m so tired” “Tired of what?” “Of all these people judging me.”
“Who judged you?” “Like that woman, every time I sit with her, she tells me to wear hijab.”
“Oh, hijab and music! The mother of all topics!” “Yeah! I listen to music without hijab…haha!”
“Maybe she was just giving you advice.” “I don’t need her advice. I know my religion. Can‘t she mind her own business?”


“Maybe you misunderstood. She was just being nice.” “Keeping out of my business, that would be nice...” “But it’s her duty to encourage you do to good.” “Trust me. That was no encouragement. And what do you mean ‘good‘ ?”
“Well, wearing hijab, that would be a good thing to do.” “Says who?” “It’s in the Qur’an, isn’t it?” “Yes. She did quote me something.” “She said Surah Nur, and other places of the Qur’an.” “Yes, but it’s not a big sin anyway. Helping people and praying is more important.” “True. But big things start with small things.” “That’s a good point, but what you wear is not important. What’s important is to have a good healthy heart.” “What you wear is not important?” “That’s what I said.” “Then why do you spend an hour every morning fixing up?” “What do you mean?” “You spend money on cosmetics, not to mention all the time you spend on fixing your hair and low-carb dieting.” “So?” “So, your appearance IS important.”
“No. I said wearing hijab is not an important thing in religion.” “If it’s not an important thing in religion, why is it mentioned in the Holy Qur’an?” “You know I can’t follow all that’s in Qur’an.” “You mean God tells you something to do, you disobey and then it’s OK?” “Yes. God is forgiving.” “God is forgiving to those who repent and do not repeat their mistakes.” “Says who?” “Says the same book that tells you to cover.” “But I don’t like hijab, it limits my freedom.” “But the lotions, lipsticks, mascara and other cosmetics set you free?!

What‘s your definition of freedom anyway?” “Freedom is in doing whatever you like to do.” “No. Freedom is in doing the right thing, not in doing whatever we wish to do.” “Look! I’ve seen so many people who don’t wear hijab and are nice people, and so many who wear hijab and are bad people.” “So what? There are people who are nice to you but are alcoholic. Should we all be alcoholics? You made a stupid point.” “I don’t want to be an extremist or a fanatic. I’m OK the way I am without hijab.” “Then you are a secular fanatic. An extremist in disobeying God.” “You don’t get it, if I wear hijab, who would marry me?!” “So all these people with hijab never get married?!” “Okay! What if I get married and my husband doesn’t like it? And wants me to remove it?” “What if your husband wants you to go out with him on a bank robbery?!” “That’s irrelevant, bank robbery is a crime.”

“Disobeying your Creator is not a crime?” “But then who would hire me?” “A company that respects people for who they are.” “Not after 9-11” “Yes. After 9-11. Don’t you know about Hanan who just got into med school? And the other one, what was her name, the girl who always wore a white hijab…ummm…“ “Yasmeen?” “Yes. Yasmeen. She just finished her MBA and is now interning for GE.” “Why do you reduce religion to a piece of cloth anyway?” “Why do you reduce womanhood to high heals and lipstick colors?” “You didn’t answer my question.” “In fact, I did. Hijab is not just a piece of cloth. It is obeying God in a difficult environment. It is courage, faith in action, and true womanhood. But your short sleeves, tight pants…” “That’s called ‘fashion‘, you live in a cave or something? First of all, hijab was founded by men who wanted to control women.” “Really? I did not know men could control women by hijab.” “Yes. That’s what it is.” “What about the women who fight their husbands to wear hijab? And women in France who are forced to remove their hijab by men? What do you say about that?” “Well, that’s different.” “What difference? The woman who asked you to wear hijab…she was a woman, right?” “Right, but…” “But fashions that are designed and promoted by male-dominated corporations, set you free? Men have no control on exposing women and using them as a commodity?! Give me a break!” “Wait, let me finish, I was saying…” “Saying what? You think that men control women by hijab?” “Yes.” “Specifically how?” “By telling women how and what to wear, dummy!” “Doesn’t TV, magazines and movies tell you what to wear, and how to be ‘attractive’?” “Of course, it’s fashion.” “Isn’t that control? Pressuring you to wear what they want you to wear?”

Silence “Not just controlling you, but also controlling the market.” “What do you mean?” “I mean, you are told to look skinny and anorexic like that woman on the cover of the magazine, by men who design those magazines and sell those products.” “I don’t get it. What does hijab have to do with products.” “It has everything to do with that. Don’t you see? Hijab is a threat to consumerism, women who spend billions of dollars to look skinny and live by standards of fashion designed by men…and then here is Islam, saying trash all that nonsense and focus on your soul, not on your looks, and do not worry what men think of your looks.” “Like I don’t have to buy hijab? Isn’t hijab a product?” “Yes, it is. It is a product that sets you free from male-dominated consumerism.” “Stop lecturing me! I WILL NOT WEAR HIJAB! It is awkward, outdated, and totally not suitable for this society ... Moreover, I am only 20 and too young to wear hijab!” “Fine. Say that to your Lord, when you face Him on Judgment Day.” “Fine.” “Fine.” Silence “Shut up and I don’t want to hear more about hijab niqab schmijab Punjab !” Silence. She stared at the mirror, tired of arguing with herself all this time. Successful enough, she managed to shut the voices in her head, with her own opinions triumphant in victory on the matter, and a final modern decision accepted by the society, rejected by the Faith: Yes to curls on the hair, no to hijab.


“And he(/she) is indeed a failure who corrupts it [the soul]!


” Holy Qur’an, 91/10 Subhana'Allah!!!

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