Monday, April 16, 2012

The Quran Recitation; most beautiful melody ever.

Assalamualaikum ^^,

This is the continues story from before.. Well, frankly speaking.. My internet sorta broke down last week so i have a lot of free time that I decided to write. This is initially from an Idea of an Islamic English Novel that I've thought of 2 years ago. Alas, I have yet to write about it. 


p.s: I've finished reading 'The Scarlet Letter', my first classic literature novel! It is fanta-bulous!



I woke up by the sound of someone reading, no, reciting to be precise.  It’s so beautiful that my tears were on the verge of lashing out again. I’ve heard it countless times but I never felt this overwhelming before. It was a Quran recitation; the most beautiful melody ever heard. If I could choose my way of dying, I would choose to die with recitation of the Quran accompanied me through my dying day, reminding me that I’m only a step away to meeting my Creator. 

“Mardiyyah,” Someone called out my name. The Quran recitation had stopped. Slowly I opened my eyes and saw my grandma standing over me. She was wearing her white praying attire and looked down at me with such concern eyes. “Grandma..?” I slowly rise up to a sitting position. Ouch, my head still hurts though. 

“What happened?” She asked, typical grandma. 

“I don’t really know. I was about to ask you. The last thing I remember was…?” Wait, what was the last thing I remember? I recalled having a headache and heartache, but what was the cause of it? Grandma must have notice my long pause that she cut me, “It’s okay. Whatever it is, do have some rest okay? I do not want you out of the bed.” 

“But I haven’t pray my Zuhr,” I said with an innocent face. “What?! It’s almost 3.30pm. Now, my Dear,” Grandma said, forcing me to get out of the bed. How ironic. 

I quickly perform my Zuhr prayer but my mind could not stop thinking about my sudden blackout a moment ago. Oh Allah, I need to focus! Stop it. Whatever it is, it can wait after I finish performing my prayer. It’s kind of ironic, few months ago I could not careless about Salah and yet, now I was trying so hard to focus in one. A lot has been going on with me this past few weeks but I’m glad. I’m glad that the changes I did for myself was the right one. But yet, something was bothering me.

After I gave my second salam, Grandma came inside my room and sat on my bed. I looked at her with an invisible question mark on my head. Grandma just shook her head and gestured to me to ignore her present there. I turned around and lift my hand to read my after prayer du’a. I did not really have a specific du’a most likely because I haven’t memorize one but I have a du’a that I created myself that only Allah knew. After I finished, I went to my Grandma and kiss her hand. She looked at me with those soft eyes when I looked up and saw a tear about to escape her right eye. 

“Grandma? Are you okay?” I asked, sounded concern.  I was concern about her. She was the closest one to me, even closer than my parents ever were to me. I didn’t like to see her sad, much less cry. I rose up and sat beside her. 

She was suddenly aware of that tear and wiped it away. “Oh, nothing dear. I’m just… a bit touched seeing you like this,” she said, looking at me. She must be referring to my changes. I looked away, suddenly embarrassed. Grandma was the happiest person when she knew that I started wearing a Hijab and started practicing Islam back. In fact, she supported me the most that she started to give advice and motivational words in order to keep my spirit up. I never could get through that rough patch if it wasn’t for grandma’s hand helping me through. 

I looked back at grandma but before I could say anything she hugged me. This time, she really did cry. I hugged her back and buried my head in her long gray hair. I could not cry but I could feel tears started to fill up but it refuses to go out. After awhile, we sat there with nothing but silent. Words cannot convey how thankful I am to Allah for giving me such a wonderful grandma. 

The doorbell rang that broke our tranquil moment. Grandma quickly wiped away her tears while I suddenly became aware of reality. “Who’s that?” I asked grandma. Grandma shook her head slowly while retreating to her room to wear her scarf. I quickly took off my praying attire and fold them as neatly and hurriedly as I could and reached out for my Hijab. Luckily I was wearing a decent long sleeve t-shirt and a slack pants so it did not took me much time to cover my Aurah

It was a reflex thing that I learnt from the past weeks. No matter if it was a female or male, I would dress properly before opening the door. Grandma got to the door first before me. Behind the door revealed a guy about my age with a messy brown hair and an annoying smile that made my interest of knowing who the mystery guest was decrease rapidly.

 “Oh, it’s you,” I said with an indifferent tone and went inside the living room. 

(To be continue...)

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Because your heart beats within mine..


Well, this is a story that I come out with. Enjoy!


"Because your heart beats within mine"

I heard you.

I heard your voice inside my mind. I was scared. I'm not scared because it is unnatural for some people to hear others voices in their head but I'm scared because its your voice that I hear. 

You, the one that turn away from me.
You, the one that I try so hard to block away.
You, the one that leaves my heart bleeding.

I opened my eyes  slowly to see if I'm dreaming but no, I'm not. I stared at the ceiling not knowing what I was looking at exactly. Out of sudden, without my concious, my eyes began to start blurring. No, no.. I'm not going to.. cry. 

Tears began to stream down my cheek, faster by minute. No, I can't make it stop. I do not want to cry! I do not want my tears to be his. I can't let this weakness took over what I've held so highly. But I can't make it stop. Soon, those tears turn to sob. I began sobbing and that was when my mind began to play various images of him. 

His laugh, 
his smile, 
his ever-so-eager attitude to try something new, 
his anger expression, 
his warmth, 
his care.... his last expression. 

No, I do not want to remember that. I do not want to remember his last expression. In fact, I hate that last expression because those expression hunt me inside my dreams, turning it into nightmare. 

I wiped my tears but it is no use. More of which I do not know replacing the wiped ones. Lying down alone on a bed at 7am in the morning is no use either. I grabbed a pillow beside me and cover my crying face. This somewhat comfort me as those sobs, I felt could only be heard by me. As though it feels like I'm in the place I could claim my one, my own space.

How ironic, I though. I'm the type that hate tears. I hate when people cry and I especially hate crying in public. Even so, crying in private doesn't make it any better. I always try my best to avoid crying. I would held my face up high and proclaim the indifferent expression when people around me cry yet now, here I could not stop it. 

But I know I'm human. Its natural that we're defeated by our emotions, by our desire. It's human nature yet I could not accept that. Tears are human greatest weakness but it proves to be human medicine too sometimes.  Urg, why am I even discussing this when I was crying?! Though this distraction somehow makes me feel better. 

After a few minutes those tears stopped. Slowly I rolled out of my bed. Gosh, I looked like a vampire or rather a zombie with this red swollen eyes. Yup, the mirror proved so. Luckily no one is at home. If so, I would not know what to explain. They did not know about him. Ouch, my heart just winced when I thought bout him. 

I sighed. Somehow all the crying just now seems to calm me. Yea, a medicine alright. I wish I would not have to do that again. But he was half to be blame. If it is not because of...

Ouch, that was it again. My heart ace, literally. My head suddenly felt light but then it pound on me, hard. Is this the after effect of crying so hard? I don't think so but why? My legs suddenly could not find the will power to further on and the next thing I knew was my hand grabbing hard the table which is the nearest to me. 

My head hurts. It hurts so badly. My other palm was against my head that I could feel it throb. What is this feeling? What is this foreign feeling? Somehow it was like a hard wave of Deja Vu. I let out a small yelp.

"Because your heart beats within mine" No, why now?
"Because your heart beats within mine" It sounds so clear.
"Because your heart beats within mine" Go.. away!

Afterwards, I saw nothing but darkness.

(To be continue..)