I have distinct memories of Achu telling me to pray for her.
“Allah listens to your prayers. They come true. So pray for me, please?”
I remember my eyes tearing up, my heart brimming with some wholesome feeling and giving here a wide smile. I prayed for her multiple times, when she asked and when she didn’t. I still do, for her and her little one. Because it reminds me again and again, of how Allah listens to my prayers, even when I repeatedly fail to believe or remember it.
Last week, after ages of being numb during prayers, sometimes having to rack my brain to form coherent sentences out of my muddled thoughts to ask Allah, other times mechanically asking for things that I wanted (sadly mostly centered around the Dunya), the things that I should generally ask for (like Deen, Janna, health among many others) and the things going on around the world, on a whim, I frustratingly prayed to make me feel my prayers. To feel it’s depth and it’s hope and it’s despair and it’s strength. Two days back, after carrying around the burden of a few things (thoughts) the entire day, I finally took wudhu and prayed Asr after which I cried and cried my heart out. For the little big things affecting my life, for the guy who was punishing me for god knows what reason, for my uncertain futures, for the frustrations of my inability to prioritise, for the numbness, for the lack of clarity, for Falasteen, for my Uppa and Umma. My tears wouldn’t stop, my heart and eyes ached and I wondered where all this was coming from. For a moment, I realised that Allah had granted my prayer. I was feeling it all in it’s entirety. The gates had finally opened. He atleast answered one of my prayers, I thought. Well, maybe He will answer the rest as well, my heart caught onto that string of hope. In those breakdowns, I found a piece of self again though the next day I go back down the rabbit hole of worries.
Sometimes I think about how I should write down all that I pray for, just to notice and realise how much of it Allah fulfills. I go on and on with the never ending lists of things that I want help with, never actually comprehending how many of the things that I prayed for once are a reality now. How many things that I never even imagined to pray for or couldn’t put into proper sentences to ask were nevertheless granted. How the very act of praying and letting it be, gives me a sense of calmness, a sense of courage, a sense of belief and a sense of understanding, even if sometimes I don’t get what I prayed for.
As I sit in the dark, on my prayer mat in my prayer dress, feeling the light breeze in the quiet of the fan’s whirring and the hum of the night, I think of the time when I once wanted to name my kid (if I have one, in sha allah), Dua. Before it became a trend, which is the exact reason why I chucked the idea. Then, I think of how I also wanted to name my kid (if I have one, in sha allah), Dunya. And I keep thinking if it’s right to name my kid after something that Allah told us is transient and not important. But it nevertheless is where we learn, where we strive, where we seek, so maybe it’s not a bad idea. In Sha allah.