The universe is a masterstroke of the Creator, an unparalleled tapestry woven with divine precision. From the infinite mysteries of the cosmos to the intricate beauty of the Earth, every detail bears witness to a higher truth. The world's allure is so enchanting that those who have truly felt its pulse find it hard to say goodbye. Yet, death remains the only absolute truth. For those who enjoy the Creator's boundless blessings but forget to offer gratitude, death arrives as a somber, haunting chapter.
The air vibrated with the melodious soul-stirring call of the Fajr Adhan. Birds began their morning symphony, their chirping sounding like a desperate plea of gratitude to the Almighty. Hearing this sacred call, Mr. Afaj and his wife, Jahanara Begum, could no longer remain surrendered to sleep. Bound by devotion, they both prostrated in Sujood, pouring their hearts out to the Most Merciful.
Once the prayers were over, their daily rituals commenced. Jahanara Begum immersed herself in the rhythmic recitation of the Holy Quran, while Afaj Saheb stepped out to embrace the crisp morning air. There is a rare tranquility in walking at dawn; while most of the world lay cocooned in deep slumber, Afaj Saheb wandered the local school field, seeking the magnificence of the Creator within the stillness of nature.
Sitting on a weathered bench, he whispered to himself, "I wish to savor this sacred breeze until my very last breath."
Meanwhile, a different scene was unfolding inside the house. Jahanara Begum's patience was wearing thin. The window for prayer was closing, yet her two children showed no signs of waking. She first knocked firmly on her daughter's door.
"Mom, just a little longer! I promise, this is the last time I'll be late. Please!" Meghla's voice drifted from inside, thick with sleep.
Then, silence. Jahanara issued a stern warning, commanding her to get up and pray immediately. As she headed downstairs to prepare breakfast, she stopped dead in her tracks. There sat her son, Nafiz, on the sofa, buried in a book.
She gasped as if she had seen a ghost. "You? Up this early and studying? Son, are you alright? Do you have a fever again?"
Nafiz winced at his mother's exaggerated shock. "Mom, please! Why are you acting like this? You know my qualifying exams are ongoing!"
Relief washed over her, though a lingering sense of disbelief remained in her eyes. She sighed and looked at him tenderly. "If you can wake up this early for an exam, surely you can do the same for your prayers. The soul needs its nourishment too, Nafiz."
Nafiz offered no reply, his eyes remained fixed on the pages of his book. This small family—Nafiz, Meghla, and their parents—was like a sanctuary of peace under a scorching sun. Though Afaj Saheb was an expatriate, his presence at home currently made the family feel complete.
Driven by her mother's scolding, Meghla eventually managed to pray, but the moment her final supplication ended, she collapsed back onto her bed. Her profound love for sleep was a daily bone of contention with her mother, yet Meghla remained unapologetically stubborn.
8:30 AM. Afaj Saheb returned from the bazaar. The moment Meghla saw her father, every trace of sleep vanished. "Abbu! You're back?" she screamed from the second floor. In her frantic rush to get downstairs, she tripped and took a sharp tumble.
The sound of the fall sent Afaj Saheb into a panic. He rushed to her side, checking for injuries. Meghla looked up into his worried eyes and laughed. "Oh, Abbu! I'm perfectly fine. Don't be so restless over nothing!"
He stroked her hair and sat her down, bringing her a glass of water. Jahanara Begum emerged from the kitchen, her voice laced with maternal discipline. "When will you grow up, girl? Give me some peace. This constant running around doesn't suit a lady!"
Before she could finish, Afaj Saheb signaled her to stop. He knew that this vibrant chaos and these small outbursts of love were what kept a family alive. He turned to his daughter with a mischievous glint in his eye. "I brought a special gift for my princess today."
Hearing the word 'gift,' Nafiz, who had been busy studying, couldn't help but interject. "Looking at Abbu, you'd think he only has a princess and no son! Even if that princess looks more like a forest ghost."
Meghla's eyes flared. "How I look isn't the point; everyone knows I'm a thousand times better than you. And listen, just because you're a 'white cat' doesn't mean you're handsome, Mr. Blackie!"
Nafiz burst into laughter. "Caught you! You just called me a white cat and then followed it up with 'Blackie'? Has a screw come loose in that head of yours, little bird?"
Meghla turned to her father with an adorable pout. "Did you hear that, Abbu? He's calling me names again!"
"Why are you always 'Abbu-Abbu' in over everything?" Nafiz teased, whistling as he skipped up the stairs. It was his last day of exams, and his spirit was soaring.
Afaj Saheb leaned in and whispered to Meghla, "Sweetie, take your gift and run to your room. If your mother sees it, she'll give us both a thrashing! She's quite the tyrant today!"
Meghla giggled, but as she stood up, she froze. Standing right behind them was Jahanara Begum, looking like a storm cloud ready to burst.
Sensing immediate danger, Meghla thought, 'Save yourself, Meghla!' and bolted up the stairs.
Jahanara Begum fixed her husband with a cold stare. "What did you just say? Care to repeat that?"
The man who was just showing off his bravery now found himself stammering. "W-who? Me? I didn't say anything!"
Jahanara crossed her arms, a playful pout on her face. "Fine then! I'm done with this household. I'm going back to my father's house!"
~ To be continued ~