16th October, 2015

"And provide for him from where he does not expect. Whoever puts his trust in Allah - He will be enough for him. Allah always achieves His aim. Allah has appointed a measure for all things."

[Qur'an]

Chapter 8:

Of Dreams and Nightmares

"Hi! My name is Anam Fazal. I'm four years old and I'm suffering from leukemia. But I don't want you to give me pitiful looks, or any of those emotions because I'm a strong girl. However, it would be great if you could donate for Cancer Care so other children suffering from cancer, and who cannot afford treatment, can be treated through the donations.

Also, in this video, I'm going to teach you how to do your make up. Yes, I'm very good at it. So, this is the lip stick, and you apply it on your lips. Although its name is lip stick, you only apply it, you don't stick the whole thing, ok? If you do that, you'll look funny! And then, this is called the mascara. Mascara is used on the eyebrows."

"Eyelashes," Dina corrected, stifling a laugh as she held the camera and recorded the little girl's make up tutorial.

"Oh yes, eye washes. Another thing I wanted to say, make up makes you look pretty. So when I grow up, I'm going to do make up and then cover my face when I go out. Because I don't want boys to start liking me. Ewww."

Dina brought her palm to her mouth, trying her best to suppress the giggles. However, when Anam blinked, smiled and said 'toodles' with a wave of her hand, just like those tutors in YouTube videos, Dina paused the recording and laughed to her heart's content.

To spread awareness of the cancer care initiative of the pediatric oncology department, Dina had decided on making a video, while using her little children. Each child was going to come ahead and speak of his hobbies, do something funny while sending across the message. Dina had planned to club all the clips together and make a video to put up on YouTube and other forums.

Although the idea sounded nice, she wasn't really sure how to go about the whole thing. For, although she recorded their clippings, Dina had no idea how to edit, crop, and merge the pieces to make the whole video look presentable.

Well, she'd have to come up with something, she thought.

She continued this for the rest of the children, while the others were kept busy in coloring or sketching activities.

She smiled when Lateef came to her along with Karan. Lateef was so much better now, although Dina could see he missed Umaiza terribly. The other day, he had refused to take part in the sand activities Dina prepared for them and after much thought, Dina had realized this was the activity Umaiza and Lateef had done together before her health deteriorated and she got too weak after starting chemo.

It was almost unbelievable how little children remembered things to precision and it left such an immense impact on them.

"You two ready?" Dina asked and Karan saluted and replied, "Yes. Inspector Karan Thakur on duty."

She started the recording as the kids spoke, yet again laughing when the two debated over who was better, Inspector or Mafia, for Lateef had a thing for the big bad guys of the underworld.

The day's session was much lighter and fun, and by the time she was going home, Dina had a smile etched on her features. After sending all the children, and cleaning the mess, Dina shouldered her bag and walked out.

As she passed by the canteen, she turned around to look at that lady who was a new face in the premises. She was light skinned, had sparking blue eyes, she wore a hijab while returning orders, and she had a look that definitely claimed she wasn't Indian. Dina was intrigued by her, and since last week, she wondered who she was but never really had the courage to strike up a conversation, so she kept walking.

Although Dina found herself in a good mood earlier, when she entered home, the energy saw a drastic shift.

"Assalamu alaikum, Dina, you're finally back home. I was waiting for you," her mother greeted, her eyes sparkling in excitement and Dina was taken aback.

If Rashida was excited over something related to Dina, it couldn't be good.

"Wa alaikum as salaam," Dina nodded. "How was the wedding?" She inquired for the sake of courtesy.

"Oh, it was one of the biggest weddings I have ever attended. The people wore such expensive dresses, and jewellery? Don't even ask."

As Rashida went on, Dina couldn't really relate to her. With the way she was narrating, it looked like they had spent a lot of money.

Although big weddings were the norm these days, thanks to Dina's outlook on life, she was already calculating how much of it could have been used to donate in the cancer care or perhaps even for refugees or the Muslim countries that were affected by war.

She shook her head at the thought, not many people she knew would be willing to compromise on their wedding celebrations. And she was no one to claim or judge how people spent their money.

"Dina, did you listen to what I said?"

"Yeah?" She questioned, returning to reality.

"Look at these gifts for you."

Dina eyed the three dresses that lay on the table, her curiosity reaching heights.

Rashida's family never, never sent her any gifts.

"Gifts for me?" Dina asked in disbelief. This was close to impossible.

"Dad bought them?" She asked. It had to be him!

"Ah no, he hardly joined us for shopping."

She kinda knew it!

"Umm, you bought them for me?" Dina questioned, although she already knew the answer.

"Oh no. Actually, Zulfia bought these dresses for you when we went shopping. Tabrez especially liked the green one. He said the minute he saw it, he was reminded of you. He could almost imagine you, with your hair flying in the wind, as you played with the dupatta of the dress."

Dina groaned at the image, this was getting too far and almost out of hand.

"Did Zulfia Aunty buy gifts for Aarifa?" She asked, trying to stay calm.

"Not really. But then, that was because I bought so many things for her."

"Did Zulfia Aunty buy anything for Ishaq?"

"She got him a water gun."

"Then why did she find it necessary to buy me so many dresses out of the blue?"

"You have a problem when my family doesn't get you gifts. And now, you have a problem when my sister treats you well," Rashida chided in a dramatically emotional tone.

"I never said I had a problem when they didn't get me gifts."

"But now that she's seeing you for Tabrez, she wants you in the best of clothes. What's wrong in that?"

She almost felt offended by the statement, it wasn't like her dressing sense was bad that she wanted to gift her 'the best of clothes'.

But she hardly cared for their opinions, as she got up from where she was sitting on the dining chair and sat beside her mom on the couch.

"You want me to marry your sister's son, right?"

"Just call him Tabrez. And yes, I want you to marry him."

Dina nodded her head, as if she was dealing with a child.

"Yes, so you want me to marry him. And I've told you before but I'll repeat myself, I appreciate the offer but I am not willing to marry him. I've spoken to dad too, so I think you should end this here."

She should have ended this long ago, Dina thought to herself.

Rashida was frustrated by Dina's reply, and Dina couldn't believe she thought getting her gifts would change her mind.

"Mom," she spoke, "I'm serious when I say I'm not going to change my mind. This is my final decision and last time I told dad, he was fine with it!"

Rashida's face showed the rage that was building inside her when Dina spoke about Khalid. She knew she couldn't say much if Khalid had given her the liberty to take her decision.

"What will I tell Zulfia? She is so keen on this," Rashida snapped back. "Should I tell her Dina is too arrogant to accept the proposal?"

Dina hated the sarcasm, and in an even tone, replied, "This is just about a choice I'm making. It isn't arrogance, but if saying this will solve the problem, then fine."

Rashida glared at her and shouted, "Are you planning on sitting in your father's house for the rest of your life?"

Dina blinked back the tears that erupted as a natural response to the comment, and without answering, she got up to head towards her room.

"Tabrez is very handsome," Rashida tried to reason.

She didn't care.

"If you want me to marry him for his looks, I'll have to divorce him when those features fade away in the later years."

"His family is rich. He can support you."

She'd rather marry a man who was pious.

"I would never marry for money."

"He can even take you to moon. He's trying to get into NASA," Rashida spoke in frustration and Dina found it ridiculous. The lady was making no sense at all.

Dina stared at her in disbelief, did she, for real, just say that? Finding the whole situation bizarre beyond words, this time Dina did not even find the offer worthy enough of a response. She shook her head and headed to her room.

She would rather marry someone who strived to earn the pleasure of The Creator of the moon!

***

Dina was wearing her high heels that were too big for her little feet. She was six years old again, and she had used her red lipstick which was applied quite messily. She had a red dupatta over her head that covered half of her face, just like the typical Indian brides.

"Dulhan! Dulhan!" She said excitedly, referring to the Hindi term for a bride, and managing the shoes, she walked up to her.

"Such a beautiful Dulhan," she replied, caressing her chin. "And who is the Dulhan getting married to?"

"Him," Dina said, giving her a toothy grin as she showed her teddy. "He is very good looking andrich."

Still smiling, she said, "While it's nice to know he's good looking and rich, never marry him for those reasons, Dina. I'm not rich but I love you. And isn't that enough? Marry the man who will love you throughout his life, because if he doesn't love you, anything coming from him will never feel whole. You may be a rich man's wife, but you'll still feel like a pauper from within if he doesn't treat you well. Your man may not be rich, but if he loves you, you wouldn't long for the worlds riches. Because you already possess the world's biggest treasure."

The little girl pouted at that. "How will I know he loves me?"

"The true and purest form of love can only be experienced after marriage. But if He loves His Creator and he is willing to marry you, go ahead with him. Because then, Allah will put love between your hearts. A righteous man will honor you, and eventually, for the sake of Allah, you two will love each other endlessly. Don't let go of that kind of love."

And as Dina pondered over what she had said, Dina had lapped few years ahead and was the bride yet again. But this time, she was twenty one and the shoes fit her perfectly. And suddenly, as she stood in the wedding hall, she saw Bilal.

She didn't think he was the groom, he was dressed in his casual clothes and he was laughing about something. Dina turned around and searched for her groom everywhere, but except for her father and Bilal, there was no other man.

The two were clasping hands while smiling and were heading towards Dina, and suddenly, she saw Tabrez, dressed in a tux as he walked towards her as well, alongside Rashida. Dina looked between both men and a sudden fear gripped her. Before she knew it, she was running out of the hall.

She spotted her on the road again, and she told her something in her ears and left her with that. Dina was still on the road, and before she knew what was happening, a truck slammed against her for she wasn't quick to react. She saw red everywhere, and Dina's white bridal wear was now soaked in blood.

Dina opened her eyes as she sat up breathing heavily. Not blood, but she was definitely soaked in sweat as she hurriedly chugged down water from the bottle that rested on the bed side table. The dream or the nightmare perhaps, had left her in a confused state of mind. While she did remember dressing up as a bride when she was a kid, the advice from her was something new and she couldn't quite understand what had just happened.

Although she tried relaxing and convincing herself that it was just a bad dream, having seen her in the dream, her memories came rushing back and Dina brought her hands to her face as she hurriedly wiped away the tears.

She wasn't crying only because she had seen some terrible scenes, but this time, she was sobbing because she missed her.

If she was here, things would have been so different.

If she was here, Dina would have still known what it meant to be happy, she wouldn't feel so broken, this helpless, as she hugged her pillow and trembled.

The bed was making her sadder, and she did not want to travel back to that memory lane with her in it. Some of the best days of her life, but it pained her to think about them.

Getting up abruptly, she walked towards the bathroom, stepping under the shower and then heading to pray.

She just needed to get away from this world for a bit.

Although her thoughts were spinning a whirlwind inside, she had calmed down a bit. Dina remembered only bits of her dream now, which was a blessing and boon, she always thought. She could never wholly remember the entire dream, but she did retain her advice and also knew that the dream hadn't ended well.

As she tried to think back to what the dream was about, the ringing of her phone interrupted her thoughts.

"Assalamu alaikum, Tabasum," she greeted answering the call.

"Wa alaikum as salaam. I have good news," the girl said excitedly.

Dina, despite the torture of the past hour, found herself smiling at her tone. "What? Omar's wife found you a groom?" She joked.

"Hush. It's not that. Remember you said you needed help in compiling the video and making it attractive enough for the public?"

"Yup. And I thought you said you'd help me. Don't back out now."

"I know how to crop and compile, but that isn't enough to make it as good as you want it to be. Remember I told you we were making a documentary for our school in the slum? The documentary is out and this person has done a brilliant job. I thought you could contact this person, it's just what you needed."

Dina thought about the offer, she really needed to make a good video if she wanted to send the message across to many people. She liked the suggestion, and thus replied, "Sounds good. But is she ready to help me?"

"Of course! He would love to!"

"He?" Dina questioned. She hadn't thought it was a he.

"Yup, he's a brother from our group."

When Dina was silent on the other end, Tabasum asked, "What happened? You can just mail him the videos, he'll do it."

"They won't go by mail. I'm pretty sure they exceed the size limit," Dina said, biting her lip.

"Nevermind. You transfer them in a pen drive and I'll ask him to collect it from you tomorrow? Perhaps in the hospital?"

"Well, that should be fine. Umm, Tabasum, what's his na-"

"Yes, Bhabhi, I am on the phone. Wait, what are you doing in the kitchen? Mom will kill me is she finds out I let the new bride do any work. Hey Dina, I'll call you back in some time, I'm a little busy," Tabasum spoke hurriedly, after briefly addressing Omar's wife.

"Yeah sure, carry on. Assalamu alaikum!"

"Wa alaikum as salaam."

Dina frowned at the end of the conversation. When a name she suspected crossed her mind, she brushed it aside and quickly headed outside to fetch the laptop so she could transfer the videos from the camera to the laptop and back to the pen drive.

It wouldn't be him.

The next day, after the children had gone, Dina closed the room and sat outside, watching a number of patients and visitors. As she sat idle, waiting for the person to come collect the pen drive, she tried to recall the dream she saw last evening.

She remembered the first part of it, she vaguely remembered the messy lipstick on her face and the high heels. Dina even remembered what she had said. But no matter how much she thought about it, she just couldn't recall the second half.

Finding herself stressed and in need of a distraction, she sighed and checked her watch. He was supposed to be here fifteen minutes back and there was still no sign of him.

Since she was sitting outside, she yet again spotted the hijab lady in the canteen. For a split second, Dina thought of approaching her, maybe buy something from there and in the process say Salam, but Dina stayed rooted in her spot.

She sighed yet again, rummaging through her purse for her phone, when she felt someone approach her.

She looked up, and although a small part of her mind which she had quickly ignored earlier had suspected it could be him, she was still surprised.

Bilal.

And as she saw him walk up to her, his lips moved and he was saying something, but Dina was lost in a trance.

Seeing him, Dina remembered bits of the second part of the dream. Bilal was in it, he was laughing, shaking hands with her dad. What was all that about?

"Dina?"

Dina blinked when Bilal stopped talking and waved his hand.

Embarrassed, her face turned red and she looked away, although Bilal was already looking at his shoes by now, lowering his gaze in front of the lady.

"I'm sorry.. I just.."

"Assalamu alaikum," he spoke, his voice polite.

Still feeling embarrassed, Dina mumbled her reply.

She zipped open the small pocket of her purse, glad that for once, it didn't take her ten minutes to look for an article in the lost chamber, which was her purse.

"Here's the pen drive. There are about seven clips."

"Alright. Is there a specific order you want them in?"

"Not really. But I was thinking we could keep Anam's clip in the first. But you can do it as you like."

Bilal nodded, and Dina almost wished he would look up as he spoke. She had a sudden urge to see his eyes.

"Cool. And are there any other preferences in the way you want the end product? You can let me know, you may not like the way I do it."

Dina shook her head at that, whatever he'd do, she was sure it would be a hundred times better than what she would come up with.

"I'm fine with whatever you come up with," she spoke aloud her thoughts, clasping her hands.

Bilal nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. He liked it when she trusted him this way.

Shaking his head at the thought, he spoke, "Sounds good. So that's it?"

As he pocketed the pen drive, Dina nodded, and realizing he may not have noticed it, she answered, "Yup, that's it. I'm sorry for the trouble."

"It isn't a trouble," Bilal replied.

An awkward silence encompassed the atmosphere, and Bilal finally said, "I should get going then. Assalamu alaikum."

"Yeah, wa alaikum as salaam."

As Bilal walked to his car, he almost wanted to offer to drop Dina home but he bit his tongue the last minute. He had already drove in the middle of work just so that Dina wouldn't have to take much trouble, he was going ahead of himself with her on his mind. He needed to stop thinking about her so much.

Seeing his retreating back, Dina felt a strange thought cross her mind. She didn't want him to go.

Her eyes widened at the unknown emotion, and just as she took a step ahead, she stopped, gasping.

She had suddenly recalled another bit of her dream, where she was hit by a truck and the last words she had whispered in her ears were,

"Your dreams will guide you, but remember to follow them."

Suddenly feeling suffocated, Dina started walking briskly. As she followed Bilal's trail of footsteps left in the hospital's driveway, there was only one thought on her mind.

When nightmares were all I had, I forgot what it felt like to dream.