O' Sleeping Man

“The greatest of trials upon a woman is her husband’s other wife.” [Hadith]

I am grateful to Allah Almighty for conveying to mankind that polygamy is the greatest trial that a woman can be afflicted with, because in the society that I have grown up in, polygamy is treated as a religious frivolity which women no longer have the heart to bear nowadays. Meaning, it is viewed as the previous wife’s narrow-mindedness not to bear it happily. I also wonder why a Muslim child of age seven knows that Islam permits polygamy but the above Hadith is very, very unknown to the Muslim society.

This Hadith, together with other Quranic Verses and Ahadith put together, makes it clear that polygamy is not a religious recommendation, but a critical solution in certain critical situations of women and men.

In my life, I have heard many instances of polygamy which broke my heart, but this one episode tore me apart from head to toe, and I felt that I must do some catharsis by writing about it, else I will lose my mind thinking over it. When I heard about it, I felt my soul fly out of my body and into the body of that woman. Let us call her Aminah.

My name is Aminah. I was in love with him. One beautiful day, I got married to him.

I was soon in the family way. First the joy of being in love, then the joy of getting married to him and then the joy of being pregnant; I thought I would burst with happiness. Ah, burst did, but my bubble of happiness…

When I was seven months pregnant, my husband disclosed to me that he had married another woman about a month ago. She was one of his ex-girlfriends. He had married me because he had been in love with me. However, he realized after our marriage that he could not forget her either. So he married her too, six months after marrying me.

And I had no idea. You married her in secret, and I had absolutely no idea.

When did you begin to remember her after our marriage? On our honeymoon? When did you start considering marrying her? When I got pregnant? When did you decide to marry her? When we saw the ultrasound picture of our first baby? My mind rolls back over and over again into our first six months of marriage, trying to recall and trying to re-read your face expressions from the past…

Then one day, you said to me that you were leaving for an ‘official trip’. I was six months pregnant at that time. I did not know at all at that time but now I know that you were actually leaving to marry another woman.

You took those steps away from me towards another woman, and I was waving you goodbye and I did not know. You looked back and smiled at me, and I smiled back at you and I did not know the real reason of your happiness. You reached another doorstep to tie the knot of another marriage, and here was I closing the door of my house, carefully and firmly, thinking that it made my house secure.

There you were, smiling and nodding at another women’s family, giving them the assurance of keeping their daughter happy and secure. Did they not realize that you could possibly remember another forgotten love after marrying their daughter as well?

As the night crept on, I went into our bedroom and came upon your forgotten shirt lying on the bed. I picked it up lovingly, and caressed it lovingly. Little did I know, that you were caressing another woman at that moment. As I lied down on the bed, I felt the first kick of our first baby. I was overjoyed. I put my hand on my tummy, and smiled at the thought of having your baby. Little did I know, that you were out to father another baby with another woman at that moment. I began to feel sleepy and you were not around, so I fell asleep dreaming about you, holding your shirt tightly to myself. Little did I know, that you were also falling asleep, holding another woman tightly to yourself, at that moment.

Can you imagine the moments when I began realizing that something was wrong? Can you imagine the heart-sinking? Can you feel the emotions that our baby experienced when I began to have the inklings of reality? Can you feel the kick the baby felt? Can you imagine me being with another man? Behind your back? Forget the technical legality for a few moments, for the Prophet of Allah Pbuh has testified the turbulence of emotions anyways. Can we just talk about human emotions and human compassion for the time being?

Were you ever a child? Did you ever have a mother? Did you ever have a father? Can you imagine being a five-year-old and hearing your mother’s sobs into the night, because your father had married another woman? Perhaps you do not care about me, the woman, but do you not care about your children either? Can you not fathom the mental torture that the children go through when their father marries another woman after their mother?

Can you try imagine being born a woman? Can you imagine the hurt? Can you imagine the insecurity? Can you imagine the jealousy? Can you imagine waking everyday and feeling the creeping horror that no, it was not a nightmare but much worse than that? A torturous reality! Can you imagine living and dying every moment of your life?

You said to somebody, ‘I am very fair to both of my wives. If I load one’s mobile with a hundred rupees cash, I load the other’s mobile with a hundred rupees cash as well. It is money that really matters…’

What am I? A money-monger? A gold-digger? A slut? You think I will be happy to share my bed with another woman just because I am getting a hundred-rupee worth of mobile load in return? Surely, you have a very low opinion of the women species!

I prêt up for you, and in doing so, sometimes endure a lot of pain. I let go of my self-respect when I am told that you shall not earn and your husband shall feed, clothe and shelter you. The marital pleasures begin with your pleasure and my pain. My life is at risk during child birth. I cannot help losing my figure after childbirth, but it gives you a certificate to begin to taunt me and start sniffing around for another figure. No minaret of Friday sermons realizes or condemns this…so much so for the Jannah under my feet! Post birth, I also become prone to multiple medical complexities, some of which can be fatal. Any loyalty in return?  

The children are yours too, but you get disturbed when they get cranky or cry into the night or engage me in looking after them. You have given me the responsibility of your parents too and then you get irritated when I am not available to you because of the domestic work load. You do not share or lessen the load on me but begin dreaming of another romance with another woman.  

Then, with glee you remember that Islam ‘allows’ polygamy.

Polygamy was not sanctioned by Islam to legalize lust. And it is not oriented to use and discard woman like a tissue paper. Rather, it exists to support women themselves actually. The concept of polygamy in Islam is to ensure that no woman in the society is left alone without a male supporter, although that male supporter can be the father, the brother and the son too. However, when going for a second marriage, did you have a destitute woman in mind? Or did you look around for the prettiest?

O’ Sleeping Man! Woe unto you…Woe unto you for your arrogance.

Woe unto you for your selfishness. Woe unto you for your heartlessness. Woe unto for taking me for granted. Woe unto you for walking over me. Woe unto you for contorting religion to your selfish, base desires.

I am a human being too. We have certain role differences, as ordained by Allah Almighty, but Allah also made some things same between us. I too have a heart that wants love and I too have a mind that wants respect and I too have a soul that wants loyalty.

O’ Sleeping Man, wake up from your lustful slumber to dignified humanity ...

Strange Mujahid

‘Islam came to this world as a Stranger, and soon it will return to how it began (its concepts will appear strange to people), so give good news (of success) to the strangers (who appear strange to others on behalf of their Islam)’. [Hadith, Mishkat]

I consider Hamid Mir to be a rightist and pro-Islam. That is why I was very surprised when on 18^th September 2013, Capital Talk, when one of his guests identified another of his guests as a former Mujahid from the Afghan Jihad, Hamid Mir took a shocked pause…as if, it is uncivilized to be a Mujahid…as if, it is a crime to be a Mujahid…as if, it is strange to be a Mujahid. Then he finally brushed it off by saying, ‘Chalen, wo tho maazi ki baath ho gae na…’ I sincerely hope he did not mean what he appeared to mean. For our Prophet Muhammed Pbuh said, ‘One who dies without ever participating in Jihad, or at least having the deep desire to do so, will die the death of a Munafiq (Hypocrite Muslim).’

There was a time in this nation, that the birth of a boy was celebrated, not because he would grow up to be the breadwinner of the family, but that he would become a protector of the Muslim nation. There was a time in this nation, that a girl was impressed by a boy, not because of his salary slip and sleek car, but because of his bravery and valor in the battleground. There was a time in this nation, that mothers preferred their sons to serve the nation and religion than to spend their lives serving them only. They knew that Jannah lay under the feet of the mother but they also knew that Jannah lay under the shade of swords as well. It was a consideration of the need of the hour. Who needed her son more? A mother or a nation?

In the times of the Holy Prophet Pbuh, there was no standing army as such. I am not saying that a formal army should not exist. It may, according to the need of the time, but the society structure that Prophet Muhammed Pnuh built was more brilliant. In there, every Muslim man was a soldier, a Mujahid. When the need of the hour arose, a relevant number of Muslim men themselves volunteered to fight the war, to do Jihad. If the number did not amount sufficient, a call for more was given, such that in the Expedition of Tabuk, other than the hypocrites, only three Muslim men stayed back from Jihad and they were severely reprimanded for it upon return. Every soldier personally pitched in for weapons, chivalry and ride. The rest of the society was also asked to contribute. Look at the fine management of resources and handling of financial aspects of war. Look at the brilliance of multitasking within the society such the same human resource is being used in peace times and war times. They did not have to pay saIaries to troops when there was no war, for they were absorbed back into the society. I have personally never been against the huge amount of national budget spent on the army in Pakistan, because as a Muslim I honor every penny spent on defence, but the seculars often criticize it. Perhaps they would like to borrow some ideology from Islam and promote the training of all of our men and women for war and combat, for in Islam, women, senior citizens and children are backup reinforcements when the male army runs short. Cool, ya? Or am I being an extremist and promoting terrorism? Well, as of today, Israel has adopted this strategy and it is one of the reasons why they stand so strong today despite being small in number.

Yet, a worst calamity that has hit the Muslim nation today is a further ideological misconception. Despite repetitive warnings in the Holy Quran to not develop deep friendships and alliances with the Jews and Christians, the ‘designated’ soldiers of the Muslim world today are being ordered to fight their so-called war-on-terror against Muslims. These Muslims are ‘volunteer’ soldiers of the Muslim world who have risen to combat the onslaught of the Jews and Christians upon Muslim lands, resources and ideology.  Consequently, sometimes the designated Muslim soldiers and the volunteer Muslim soldiers come face to face with each other and combat each other and kill each other and incur collateral damage on each other. Then, who is the Shaheed here?

Some analogue the given situation to the Battle of Jamal that took place between Syedna Ali RA and Syedna Ayesha RA. What? Relax! There is no harm in mapping any situation to the situations of the Prophets and Companions of the Prophet Pbuh, for that is the very reason why they came into this world; to guide mankind in given situations by their words and actions. So regarding the battle that took place between Syedna Ali RA and Syedna Ayesha RA; I do not think this analogue is valid here. Not because I do not consider the Taliban worthy of it but because I do not consider the agenda of the secular forces worthy of it. Syedna Ali RA and Syedna Ayesha RA were both fighting for the protection of Islam but with a different approach in mind each, while in our scenario, one is fighting for Allah Almighty while the other is fighting for America.

Almost everyone was really offended when Maulana Fazl-ur-Rahman said that even a dog will be considered a Shaheed if killed by the Americans. I, for once, agree with him. People said that ‘Shaheed’ is such a holy concept and term and no matter what, how can anybody associate it with an animal? I say, think again. What does the world think about us? What do the American think about us despite the fact that we dance to their ‘Do More’. In the days following 9/11, while the Americans were still reeling from their surprise of the fact that Musharraf had agreed to just about everything that had been put up to Pakistan, their media printed a cartoon which showed the Pakistanis as dogs, fetching Islamic activists and handing them over to America for a nice, juicy, dollary bone each. This is the impression that we carry even to them and yet we call ourselves Shaheed when we die serving them.    

Moreover, it is strange that the secular Muslim world no longer uses the term Jihad in association with their designated soldiers and they no longer use the word Mujahideen for their designated soldiers but are happy to use the term Shaheed for their designated soldiers. Why? Shaheed is a term coined by Islam to honor someone who has sacrificed his life to strengthen or defend Islam and Muslims, not Jews and Christians and their agenda.

Then, who is a Shaheed? The designated Muslim soldiers fighting on the agenda of America and its allies, or the volunteer Muslim soldiers fighting the onslaught of America and its allies? I see the heartfelt speeches of Mujahideen, burning with passion and purpose, trying to awaken a burping nation, and I see the news clips of our soldiers wearing badges and stars, shaking hands with American generals and awarding them medals for God-knows-what. Friends of both, the designated Muslim soldier and the volunteer Muslim soldier, claim them to be Shaheed when they die. Then by derivation, both of them must be a Mujahid each. But surely, one of them is a strange Mujahid.

Aching Feet

'If I had been born a girl, I would have never studied beyond Matric, gotten married very young and have had a ball of a time at home…’ These were the words of an Asian boy in his twenties. I wonder why he said them. He must have seen his mother working around as he grew up?

In my teens, I read a research somewhere that an average housewife walks about nine to twelve kilometers a day. Or perhaps it said miles. Nonetheless, the question is, where on earth does she travel such a distance? The answer is, within the house! The day starts with the little baby waking up for milk. The mother scrambles out of bed, rushes to the kitchen, makes a fresh feeder and brings it back to the crying baby. She is about to return to her bed when another child mumbles that he wants to go to the washroom. She turns back, escorts the child to the washroom, washes him, dries him and puts him back to bed. Uh! Putting hands in the cold water has spoilt the sweet sleep. Ah! There comes the Fajr Azan. Good, might as well catch the Fajr prayers. She looks at the clock after making Dua. 6 oclock! She thinks she might as well start making breakfast and children’s school snacks. Halfway into making breakfast, the toddler walks into the kitchen, Her pajama is sagging. Oh no! I hope her pamper has not leaked. Quickly dusting her hands off flour, she checks the child. Oh NO! She has leaked! She picks up her child and rushes to the washroom. Oops! The geyser has not been turned on yet. Leaving the child in the tub, she rushes out to turn on the geyser in the backyard. After washing up the child, and changing the child’s bed, she returns to the kitchen to continue making breakfast. One by one, the rest of the family members start waking and getting ready each. ‘Where’s by socks?’ ‘Where’s by belt?’ ‘HEY! I am in the bathroom, please hand me a towel in here.’ And so on till about nine o’clock. You can sit very straight if you think this is the time when she will snuggle back into bed and sleep till the children come back from school. Ding dong! The maid is here. Door opened, and both of them start working. The maid starts doing basic cleaning around the house while the housewife starts putting together laundry; soaping, scrubbing and into the washing machine. Load started, she comes back into the kitchen. There sit the breakfast dishes cheekily, waiting to be washed. That done, she assembles together cooking ingredients for the dinner to-be-cooked. Some things need to be peeled, some chopped and some washed. Blop, and everything goes into the cooker. Soon, the cooker starts whistling. Ding dong! The mailman is here. ‘Please take the letter for me…’ ‘No baji, he is asking for somebody’s signatures’. Oh alright! Where is my chaddar, step out, sign…mumble, grumble…back to the kitchen…ding dong…

Okay, okay, I will stop rambling. I think you get the picture now. Being a house wife is no easy job, that is, if anybody would care to consider it a job. It is very, very, very hard and laborious work. Not to mention it being unglamorous. And not to mention it being a thankless job.

I am certainly not among those who consider it lowly or against male-female equality for a woman to cajole her husband when he returns home from work. Its okay if she takes his bag from his hands. Its okay if she rushes to get him a drink. Its okay if she likes to take off his shoes and socks and massage his head and feet. But, it should be okay the other way round too. But, for that, the society would first of all have to accept that housework is ‘work’ too. That it is ‘hard’ work too. And that it needs appreciation too.

Of the few who do acknowledge, fewer would express it by physically pampering the woman for it. If anyone is compassionate enough to do it, he will make sure that he does not do it publically for fear of being called a sissy.    

It so happened that a girl was pregnant and the couple were visiting some relatives. The girl’s feet were all swollen. So one of the aunts absent-mindedly said to the boy, ‘Why do not you massage her feet?’ So the girl smiled and was about to tell them that their nephew is a really nice husband for he had been massaging her feet at home the night before. But she halted in speech as she caught sight of her husband frowning at her and covertly gesturing her to keep absolutely silent about any such mention. Then the husband gave a nonchalant attitude by his body language to his aunt’s suggestion; he stretched his arms, crackled his knuckles and looked around in a macho style. Later, he whispered to his wife, ‘Never tell any such thing to anyone ever…they will all make fun of me’.