Mohideen Haajiyar’s Diary
Last time when I visited Marudur, there occurred the kidnapping drama and I got arrested. Afterwards, for several months I did not visit my native village ever again. Though I occasionally visited Vijayapura, I refrained from visiting Marudur which was situated within a kilometre of distance from Wijayapura. It felt like a spiritual vacuum for me. My chest often hurts when I suddenly wake up from deep sleep in the middle of the night. I find it difficult to fall asleep again if I wake up in half this way.
I have never been out of contact with my village ever before, even during my youth days, and during the days of my financial hardship.
I got many invitations for several special ceremonies from time to time. There were several funerals I must have compulsorily attended that I did not go. So were the number of wedding ceremonies. I avoided all such possible visits. I did not have the guts to face my people after all the ill fate that occurred. I could not take myself out of all bitter memories of the past. Especially the lies that they spread about my daughter Hamdha….! I cannot forget and forgive it at any cost.
I could no longer continue my days this way. At last, the time came that made it impossible to avoid the visit to my native village.
It was an early morning, around one or one and a half hours before the dawn prayer. It has been a habit of mine to wake up early for the last many years.
My private mobile phone number started beeping. Unconsciously, my heart started pounding. Very few people who were in my close circle had my private mobile number, apart from my Children. They would not call me through my private number unless it was an emergency.
My intuition immediately realised there was something urgent. My memories, for a fraction of a second, flew back to my native village. Did anything happen to Ubaidullah Sheikh? I knew he was not well for the last few weeks. At least, I must have gone to my village to visit Ubaidullah Hazrath. I am indebted to him so much. Why did I keep waiting?
“Hasbiyallaahu Wani’mal wakeel”, I answered the phone with a prayer. “Hello, Salam Alaikum”.
I heard Zubair Haajiyar’s voice on the other end. “Wa’laikumus salam, Haajiyar, Ubaidullaah Hazrath….”, his voice broke out, and he apparently wept, “Ubaidullaah Hazrath passed away”.
I stayed still. I had no words to utter. The engine of the universe stopped for a second. There was no way to express my emotions. I was unable to utter a single word. Both of us remained silent for many eras. I did not know how long that was. At last, I gathered my strength with strain to pronounce the phrase within myself, “Innaa lillaahi wa’innaa ilayhi raaji-oon (we all belong to Allaah, and to whom we return)”.
Several things flashed through my mind; the sacrifices Ubaidullah Sheikh had made for the village, the way he stood beside me in all my social endeavours and the way he supported me in all my personal turbulences, as a father does.
Tears started flowing through my cheek without my awareness. I was crying silently.
“Hajiyar, are you there?”, the question of Zubair Hajiyar brought me to the consciousness of the present.
“Yeah…!”
“Janaza will be taken at 11.30 this morning”.
“Okay”.
“There is another thing”.
“Yes”.
“It was Sheikh’s last wish that you must lead his funeral prayer. His son told me to convey this message to you. Will you be able to come? Have you got any other engagement? I don’t know whether this time will be comfortable for you. Family wants to take the Janaza as quickly as possible”.
How can I have any other engagement after this thunderstorming news? Sheikh’s demise was not just the demise of another ordinary human being. It is the end of an era. It was the end of a half-a-century's social life. It was the departure of a soul that dedicated its whole mental, physical and emotional energy to social well-being. How can I have another engagement?
My wife was still sound asleep. It was not her usual habit to pray night prayers. She would wake up only to pray dawn prayer. I went to her and woke her up calmly. Then, I told her the news. She was well aware how much I was attached to the Sheikh and what meant his demise to me.
After a few hours, I was in my native village. There were still two more hours left for the funeral prayer. Sheikh’s house was so crowded that people felt it difficult to stand on their own feet.
Sheikh’s Janaza was placed on the Janaza bed. His face was peaceful and bright with a smile filled with tranquillity. My tongue and the heart pronounced the words: “Oh God, forgive him and show mercy upon him”.
I didn’t know how those hours passed at such a quick pace. The Janaza was taken to the Akbar Masjid. I led the funeral prayer. I do not remember an occasion before that I prayed a funeral prayer with this much pure heartedly. Tears were flowing endlessly from my eyes, without my consciousness. Though the duration of the prayer was rather short, I could not get easily out of its spiritual impact.
My heart wished someone who is so much emotionally attached to me should lead my funeral prayer, if I died. My intuition said I would not live much longer. I might be the person next in order to die, who knows…!
We have to be prepared for death at any time. Death is an unavoidable reality of earthly life. Every human being, even the most beloved servants of God, should once taste the bitter reality of death in this universe. Then, people would enter an eternal life that has no end. It would be either heaven or hell. Oh God, forgive me for my shortcomings, and accept all my good deeds. Oh God, shower your blessings upon me. Grab my soul when I am in the condition of at most faith. Make Jannat Al firdaws as my final abode in the hereafter.
****
After two weeks.
“What are you thinking, Aboo Hamdhan? Still thinking about Ubaidullaah Sheikh?”, my wife Ziyana asked me. I felt a little embarrassed because I had been aimlessly staring at the roof, sitting on the sofa.
It was almost midnight.
I looked at my wife. She was once a beautiful woman when I grabbed her hand in marriage. Those days she was like a fresh flower that just bloomed. We had a happy life and had two children. I still could remember the day of our marriage.
It was thirty years ago. Time travelled at lightning speed and waited for nobody. Now it looked like just a dream, not something that occurred in reality. Her appearance had faded away. I could spot the number of grey hairs on her head. She looked older than her age. The recent turbulence that we went through was too much for her.
I was deep thinking, looking at my wife, without replying to her question.
Ziyana repeated her question.
“What are you thinking, Abu Hamdhan?”.
“Oh, no, it isn’t easy to come out of the memories of Ubaidullaah sheikh. But, it is us I am worrying about right now”.
“About us?”
“About the future of our kids”.
“What to worry about? They are fine. I think you overthink about them”, Ziyana said and sat beside me.
“No, Ziyana, I am not overthinking. It is our son who makes me worried”.
“He is mature now. He said once he was going to get married to a girl older than him. But, now he’s got rid of this ridiculous thought, thanks God”.
“He is wandering with a Colombo girl now all over the place”.
Ziyana was reluctant for a few seconds, and said, “Yeah, many boys of his age do it. Take it easy”.
I got furious and raised my voice, “Take it easy? What are you talking about, Ziyana? After all, I am sure he has no intention of getting married to that girl, in the least sense”.
Ziyana remained silent and breathed deeply. She knew the truth. But she is his mother. She was not ready to accept the faults of his son. She remained silent.
“I would be rather happy if he had got married to Minhaj’s elder sister. You were against it. But, now things have changed. In fact, Allah saved that girl’s life from my son”.
“Don’t accuse him. He is your son. You are accusing your own son”, Ziyana cried.
“I accuse him only because he is my son. It’s what worries me”, I said, “do you know, Ziyana, I have never talked to a woman looking at her eyes before I got married to you? You were the first and last woman I stared at her face”.
I saw the satisfaction and triumph on her face, and she said, “But, the time has changed, Abu Hamdhan. Our kids can’t lead the old way of life that we led”.
“No, Ziyana, time changes; fashion changes; lifestyle changes; technology changes; but the basic principles of life never change”.
She remained silent. She worried about our son more than I worried about him. At the same time, she wanted to defend him. I changed the subject to a more crucial burning topic of our life at the moment.
“Ziyana, you know the financial difficulties we are going through. I wonder why our boy behaves irresponsibly this way”.
“He will take responsibility, Abu Hamdhan, don’t worry”.
“When, Ziyana? When? When will he take responsibility? He will have nothing to take responsibility for, when he is ready to take responsibility. It's already too late”.
“Aboo Hamdhan, you take it too seriously. We have financial stress all the time when we are in business. That’s a usual cycle”.
“No, Ziyana, you still have no idea how grave the situation is. We are losing. We have debts. We have to sell almost all our properties. I wonder whether I could save at least one or two properties for our kids”.
“What do you say, Aboo Hamdhan?”
“Financially, we are falling down, Ziayana. The only viable option we have is trying to minimise our losses”.
“I am sure, there is a way out of it. Let’s think rationally”.
“I know the financial health by looking at the pulse. It’s deteriorated. I talk rationally, not emotionally. We have to minimise losses. Nothing else is possible”.
Ziyana buried herself in deep thinking.
“We are not only falling down. We fall from too high. The higher you fall down from, the more painful the fall is”, I said thoughtfully.
****
Sometimes I wondered why this all happened to me.
I grew up as a poor person. My financial success did come only after years of humiliation, sweating and tears.
Maybe Allah has a better plan for everything. Many of my contemporaries who went through similar turbulence as mine did not reach the height I did. Some of them simply disappeared or ceased to exist from Marudur public life. Many of them performed academically well above me during their school days.
I did not show much enthusiasm in my studies. Given the financial difficulties, I doubt whether I would have been able to perform well, even if I had wanted to. The poor financial position of my father caused me to lead a desperate life. I had to work when I was still a kid.
My hard work, with the help of Allah, provided its fruits after years of patience. My heart contends that I did sufficient good things with the money that Allah bestowed upon me.
Even money is turbulence, as poverty is. Wealth is a test. We should engage ourselves in charity when the money still remains in our hands.
The mistake many people commit is that they postpone charity until they reach a stable and satisfactory financial point in their life. They fail to light many other candles when the fire on the candle in their hand is still alive.
The truth is such an expected time may never show up. The present position of our life that we enjoy at this very moment might be the highest peak and the climax point in our life..! Moreover, there is no such thing as a stable and satisfactory financial position. Our hearts never contend with a certain amount of wealth. The more you possess, your heart longs for more. Days pass at an eye-blinking pace. Eventually, the days for charity never knock on our door.
One day all of a sudden, we might depart this world, leaving everything to our heirs. There would be no opportunity for charity afterwards. Or we might lose everything, and nothing might remain with us for charity. A lifetime opportunity would be missed. No one knows whether we will gain a second chance.
I do not have much worry that I missed several opportunities for charity. Who knows, the way Allah weighs me might differ from my standards. Oh God, forgive my shortcomings.
Nevertheless, a few things makes me worried:
First and foremost is my son. I failed to invest sufficient energy in his bringing-up. I have no idea how to manage him. I do not hope he will continue in my footsteps in the business and social arenas.
Second, I failed to provide the necessary help to Minhaj, the son of my late friend, Firdaws. His family fell into the trap of poverty in front of my eyes. I did not have the guts to confront the ones who caused the chaos. Afterwards, I simply forgot them which is unforgivable.
Third, how I constructed some of the buildings in Marudur caused the recent floods that repeated two or three times within a short span of time. Some people warned me several years before, but I did not take the warning seriously.
These are predominantly my spiritual worries.
I got some other material worries that are normal for any human being.
****
I never thought the business empire I built would perish in front of my own eyes when I am still alive. That distruction is underway now, except it will take some time for an ordinary spectator to take notice of it. I know my financial health. Doubtlessly, it is getting worse and worse everyday.
If you fall when you stand with your foot on the surface, the injury will not be so painful. But I stand on a mountain and am about to flop deep down to the surface. I could hardly survive this fall unless some miracle happens.
My son does not share my worries. The fall of my fortune is the downfall of my kids. Why does he not understand this simple fact? He is a grown-up man, no longer a kid.
Another worry is Hamdha, my daughter. She should get married to a man of principle. As my wife Ziyana suspected, a secret intention to give my daughter in marriage to Minhaj was in my mind. But, it is no longer possible, after all the unfortunate happenings. If I gave her to him, village folks would eat us alive with gossip. That would mean both of them would be unable to visit the village for the rest of their life. It is unthinkable.
Many boys from Ziyana's relatives had asked me for Hamdha’s hand in marriage. Concerning wealth and status, there is no problem with them. Nevertheless, I am not satisfied with their morals.
There are many proposals on the table from my influential business and social circles. But, my financial ill-health is not public knowledge yet. I have no idea how things would change after the news of my downfall goes public. It is a matter of a few weeks or months. If I hurried to give Hamdha in marriage before my downfall, I could not speculate how my financial bankruptcy would affect her marital bond. I am not ready, at any cost, to gamble with her life. Who knows, Allah might have other plans. He knows the best, and we do not.
****
“We are not only falling down. We fall from too high. The higher you fall down from, the more painful the fall is”, I told my wife.
She understood the situation. She had first-hand experience with the financial downfalls. She had witnessed when some of her close blood relatives failed in their businesses. She knew how painful it was.
She started crying. She didn’t know for whom she was crying. She wept for her; for me; for our son; for our daughter; and she shed tears for all of us.
“We have to start selling our properties. We won’t be able to sell in a hurry. People will aim to get at the cheapest rate when they realise we are in a hurry. That would double our losses”, I said.
“Yeah”.
“I wish someone trustworthy would stand beside me at this crucial time”.
“I stand with you, Aboo Hamdhan, I always stand with you”.
“I don’t mean you, Ziyana. I wish our son should stand beside us. But, that’s hopeless”, I said with a deep breath, “Six of my senior managers left me, you know”.
“Yeah, selfish creatures. They swallowed everything until things were going fine, and when the wind started blowing in the opposite direction they simply left”.
“Don’t say so, Ziyana. We can’t blame them. Who will recruit them if they said they are from a failed company? So, they left in advance. They have their own worries. At the end of the day, we own these businesses. We have to take responsibility for their losses, as we enjoyed their profits”.
“That’s right”.
“I have someone in mind, if you don’t protest”, I said.
“Who?”.
“Minhaj. He is reliable and trustworthy”.
I expected fierce opposition from my wife. Strangely, she supported my move.
“Will he accept, Abu Hamdhan?”
“Let’s hope he will accept”.
“You can recruit this fellow Minhaj under one condition”, Ziyana said seriously.
“Condition? okay, what condition?”, I asked.
“This should have nothing to do with our daughter”.
I understood what she meant. “Okay, agreed”, I said, “we can think of Hamdha’s wedding only after the downfall, not now”.
Ziyana laughed as if watching a hilarious comedy, “You sound like saying the wedding is after the Haj festival”.
((To be continued))
_ _ _ _
Previous chapter: chapter 25 - the collective forgetfulness
Next chapter: chapter 27 - the hope of a winter sun
* Characters, events and the places in this story are fictional and a mere product of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to real-world events or characters is merely coincidental.
** Vijayapura and Marudur are fictional places.
Riza Jaufer
Akurana -Kandy,
Sri Lanka
