THE RANSOM OF CREATION

The Ransom for Creation

Every time you inhale

With the intention of reciting

Salutations and praise 

For the Prophet,

Lo, that lungful of air 

Is worth more

Than all of Creation... 

So let your salawat 

For the Prophet 

Be heard,

Release the ransom of creation

And let your salawat 

For the Prophet

Be heard,

Let it be known

The reason for Creation,

And let your salawat

For the Prophet

Be heard...

........................

Fossils, not Faith. One day I will not be here anymore to write this almanac. But I will be happy to receive the ending credits, that final curtain call of Allah (swt) that all creatures face, if I but know that these words will continue to float in your consciousness, sunshine. And for this, I would be eternally grateful.

Fossils, Not Faith

Lo, seek for the crier of tears!

The yearning ones,

The ones overcome with passion

At the mere recollection of the Prophet,

For their river of tears

Waters the field of real knowledge

And prevents the lore of God

From ossifying, drying up

And hardening into 

Fossils of faith,

Dead bones

Only fit to be

Exhibited in

The museum. 

.........................

Just Words. It is hard speaking, but how will we find God Almighty without the Prophet of God (saws)? Is it faith we have, or have we collected some old bones, dug from the earth of the holy Quran? Fossils really, dead lifeless prose, undoubtedly beautiful, full of knowledge and hypnotic, but at the end just words. And this we think suffices us to face this world, our willful ego, the accursed Satan and his minions?

Truth is choking them. Neither by our strength, nor by our greatest intellectual grasp of religion will we be safe. Oh how easy it is to say, "O' Prophet (saws), you have been sent to us and we are in need of you. So be alive in our hearts and our conscience, do not leave us for one moment to our fickle self. We are your nation, and we are undone without your love and mercy! For have you not been sent to all worlds and nations as God's Own mercy?" How strange then that some believers in the holy Quran find such words choking in their throat, unable to spit it out, crying out instead, "Bida'ah! Bida'ah (innovations and heresy)!"

Sigh.

But then again, love can never be completely explained. So I will stop here and ask God to show us His Love - Nabi Muhammad (saws), the Seal of the Messengers, the completion of mercy and generosity of the Merciful and Generous One to all His creation.

That's you and me, kiddo! So never despair, and smile always... 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE LONELY SHORE - of certainties and openness

The Lonely Shore

I am a lonely shore,
A sandy bank
By a deep, rich sea.
All manner of people walk on me,
Leaving their footprints
Coming out of the waves,
Their enduring wandering
Ending Hu knows where.

In the imprints in my heart
I can see their path
And the beliefs
They say they believe in.

But I cannot live
On another person's belief,
So I ask that God Almighty
Give me my own belief'
To believe in,

And not leave me
Forever a lonely shore,
A sandy bank
By a deep, rich sea.
......................

Keep it open. Do not close your heart, sunshine. Do not say or act, "Yup, I know it all. I don't need to know anymore. My mind and heart is made up..." For the simple truth is, truth is not as simple as that. And when you are seeking to be the dust beneath the feet of saints, or watchdogs at their door, you have to keep nimble and awake. Awake to challenges to your own certainty, awake to whatever God Almighty may arrange to come your way, "Hmm... let us see how Taufiq deals with THIS, that old Mr,Know-it-all,,,"

The firm toehold. But we must have some certain rock. An unchangeable principle, a toehold in our heart that we must protect, Perhaps, if you are a Muslim, it would be our declaration of faith (the syahadah) - I bear witness that there is no god but God, and Muhammad is the Messenger of God, These are the words that make life, truly worth living for. Indeed, in its words is the true flowering of humanity's potential and promise - and your own, whatever be your dream or talent.

Keeping the values. And the final point is this - may we never ever, in our efforts to keep to our syahadah, do or say or permit anything to happen that directly or, more often that not, indirectly destroy the very values and connection of the Divinity and our humanity that is part of our syahadah.

For in our lifetime alone we have seen enough blood, enough depravity, enough lies and hypocrisies, all done 'in the name of God'. Do you not agree, my love?

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

SUBTLY, ESSENTIALLY, PAINFULLY BEAUTIFUL

A Pen Full of Raindrops

My Love is in the falling rain,

He tells me to stay awake 

And to come out into the night,

My Love is in the sleepless twilight,

Beneath starlight eaves with

Columns of white light

From the prayers of men, 

My Love is filling my pen

With raindrops as countless

As my sins...

.............

I am a rainy fellow. I love the rain, and when I heard the heavy patter of rain on the roof, I know that I cannot stay in. Not when the black night outside is suddenly alive with His Merciful rain. So much for my plans for an early night. He he he. I am sure God plans best of all.

Earlier tonight I asked myself if I know Islam. And I am quite sure I do not know anything much, if anything at all. In fact, I am beginning to suspect that Islam is much, much more vast than even my wildest imaginings can imagine. Islam is far, far more wondrous than any wonder that man has ever built. And it is beautiful. It is subtly, essentially, painfully beautiful. For it hurts your heart's eye even to glance but for awhile into Islam's forge of love, where words and deeds are hone in the white fire of Divine Love... syariat... tariqat, hakikat... makrifat...

What do these words even mean? I am stealing words from the library of the saints, knowing nothing of their meanings. 

What has meaning to me is the rain. Little pools of mercy and blessings on the ground now that the rain has left. Many people will be asleep not even realising this. God's blessing whether we are good or bad, whether we are awake or asleep. So what do we have to complain about? Nothing. And what do we have to be grateful for? Everything.

Let us discard the garbs of knowledge, thinking ourselves as 'knowing' our religion. There is no knowing or owning of anything in this world. There is only God Almighty, and there is His Beloved Habibullah (saws). Everything, and anything else are just shadows on the wall, transient ripples in the ocean. 

Don't you agree, sunshine?

wa min Allah at-taufiq

-Notrumi Embun, 8th July 2014

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

HAPPINESS & THE NEW YEAR 2014... an adventure at sea with Mr. Ikhlas

"It was happiness." said my old friend, Mr. Ikhlas, as he recounted a tale in his distant past. "I was about 17, I think, and our family headed for a fishing trip off the east coast, near Kuantan, Pahang. If I recall well, there was my grandfather and me, my two uncles, one auntie, and our family's driver who was also my good friend and confidante. The sea was calm, the sky was bright and blue with no hint of dark clouds in sight. Then, about noon the sea turned mean and high. Out little boat was tossing and turning helplessly before suddenly a giant wave overturned us and I was flung into the treacherous ocean.

He then paused before continuing, his brown eyes glinting in a sea-grey outer ring that I always found interesting. "I managed to grab hold of a floating plank and an empty water tank. I could not see anyone else although my friend managed to join me. Of my grandfather, auntie and two uncles there were no sight or sound, nothing but the constant rise and fall of the waves beneath a bright afternoon sun. Perfect day for fishing, I remember recalling, except that we are now two rather desperate men, being carried further and further into the vast South China Sea by the low tide. I divined this as I noticed the satellite dish on top the cliff near Sungai Karang (Karang river) slowly drop out of sight over the rising horizon of the sea. 

Unhappy though I was, I was grateful for my little pieces of wood and tank, which helped us to stay above water. I would have to last as long as I can, and the thought that the next day would be Friday, on which no fishermen would go out to sea, left me concerned about my mortality. Is this to be the end of me? To lighten myself, I considered taking off my trousers, which was hampering my movement and was not a little damn heavy. But to be indecently exposed? After all, I was not alone, my friend was still with me, gamely hanging on. It was then I began a conversation with God... 'Surely God, You would forgive me this little sin? After all, survival is also a duty in religion.' After a while, I felt confident that God wouldn't mind at all, and so I unbuttoned and dropped my trousers into the dark blue depth. But not before I checked my wallet, and carefully took out my identity card. This identification paper I then carefully secured in a knot tied at the bottom of my shirt. 'Well, at least people won't find it hard to identify my body if it comes to that.' I remember thinking.'

The day quickly turned into night, and despite our predicament, what I recall best of all was the night sky. For you see, there was no artificial light anywhere near us to spoil the magnificent beauty of the million of stars and constellations that dot the heavens. The celestial lamps were as bright and twinkling as they were millions of years ago and as I looked on, I felt privileged. Privileged and honoured. This, and many other thoughts I shared with God. 

Then, as if by plan, we noticed the lights. They were a bare glimmer in the far horizon, but they were unmistakably lights! We began to swim towards them, but now our journey made easier by the current of the rising sea, carrying my friend and I back to shore."

..............................................

Happily, everyone made it alive. Either picked up or able to swim to safety. Such was the story related to me by Mr. Ikhlas (with a little poetic license on my side). The crux of his tale was that the maritime episode was probably the first ever occasion in which he really spoke to God. "And I have never stopped since. I talk to God all the time."

Today is the last day of 2013, sunshine. Did anything happen to you this year that availed you to conversations with God? Some unfortunate illness? Some pressing financial difficulties? Perhaps a marital upheaval that made you open up to God? It is funny (to me) that as Muslims we are suppose to already be in intimate congress with God Almighty at least five times a day. And yet troubles continue to dog our life, biting at our heels like many malevolent hounds... and in the process chasing us to Him. It is as if God is saying... "I want meaning when you say you need Me. I want passion when you say you love Me. I want true gratitude when you say you adore Me. And if you won't talk to Me, I can make you talk to me."

He he he.

I guess I don't have the answer. Perhaps if I was cast overboard like Mr. Ikhlas, I may find the answer. But maybe this form of oceanic intervention is not for everyone. "Do this to Taufiq?" an Angel might inquire God. "O' God, he will sink like a stone."

He he he.

Have a happy new year and may you find new fulfillment talking to God, sunshine. I am told He listens.  All the time.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way 

DRUMS BEATING IN THE NIGHT, SUFIS WHIRLING IN DELIGHT

A Journey in the Meaning of Sound

Life begins as a journey in the meaning of sound,

As you cry out for your mother's milk,

Then, as you grow and learn to discern reality,

Stringing sentences to encapsulate your understanding,

Life becomes a journey in words and their ever-changing meaning,

But for the music writer, 

The composer in all of us,
Listening to nature,

Life still remains  a thing

To be understood in the ebb and tide,

And the tone and tempo of raw sound,

The oboe, the cello, the guitar and the flute,

The piano, the synth, the stirring cup of music,
The songs of the nightingale,
The watery speech of the sperm whale,

Drums beating in the night,

Sufis whirling in delight.

Like the child we once were... 
Crying for our mother's milk,

They raise their voice

In words formed yet formless,

Praising a God felt yet unseen,

..................

Why is a sound pleasant to us? Why is Mozart's music often uplifting, Bach's symphonies thought provoking? What is in the nature of a particular melody or chord that strikes us with sadness, joy and melancholy? Even without words, instrumental music has been instrumental (forgive the pun) in shaping our thoughts and our feelings.

The appreciation of music has been wired into the human soul. It is one of the most visceral form of communications we have been granted by God, the Most Musical and Melodious One. To appreciate God and His Attributes through song and music is a gift beyond measure.

If you are musical, do not fret, for you are in good company. As I recorded with a merry nonchalance many, many years ago...

2. Music, Truth and Mercy

Music is prohibited for some,

Not advisable for a few,

Optional for others,

Highly recommended for the rest,

And mandatory for a number.

Truth is for all.

And Mercy is for the asking.

Heh! 

....................

So let the music play, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

THE VEIL OF WORDS - Love, in all its shapes, forms and disguises - blame Allah!

Last night at a Sufi Zawiya, Bukit Damansara.

The Veil of Words

I am passing through the Veil of Words,

Running from the Form of Meanings.

Until a moment is not a moment

But a journey to your understanding.

I am spying through the Veil of Words,

Looking for God in their hidden meanings,

Until no moment is left unexplored,

All Forms pried open to reveal their blessings.

I am hidden in the Veil of Words,

Strewn around my feet are shells of moments,

I was born, I was alive, once I was in Heaven

That Form of Joy in His Divine Presence,

You read me and see my Veil of Words

That I weave so carefully,

But believe me when I say

That my Words are

Not Me. 

 ........................................

O' parents, o' grandparents, uncles and aunties! Love carefully whom and what you love, for verily, the children are enthused by your enthusiasm, and made passionate by your passion, and made curious by your curiosity. Don't go into that wolves' den, do not peek over your neighbour's fence! Don't try tasting poison and don't flirt 

with the sorcery of envy!

My friend Moses brought his wandering tribe of six children to the Zawiya last night. I came alone Mikhail-less, but when he saw me stooping down to sit, he immediately came over and his family came with him. And I felt the warmth of friendship and kinship, though I felt a stranger in the Sufi Order.

If you see me alone, come and talk to me. Allah will bless your generosity!

Love, in all its shapes forms and disguises... I blame Allah for such things!

And I blame Allah for you, sunshine!

Oh Allah...

Have a lovely day.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way 

A BOUQUET OF SALAWAT - the meaning of salawat... and we are not even scratching the surface.

A Bouquet of Salawat
I wanted to present the Prophet 
With a gift of a smile,
So I smiled at my father,
I wanted to present the Prophet
With a gift of honey,
So I gave my auntie a flask of Yemeni,
I wanted to present the Prophet
A gift of assistance and succour,
So I turned away from the TV adverts
And gave my money to the needy instead,
I wanted to present the Prophet
With greetings of peace and praise,
So I gathered all these gifts in my heart
And recited the Salawat for him,
And tied the Words of Light together 
With binds of love, gossamer and frail
In a bouquet of words whose endings trail,
High above me... 
Gently swaying in the breeze
Of Angels' Wings as they take my Salawat
To bear them to the Prophetic Presence,
To be graciously accepted by the One created by Allah
To be gracious beyond compare.

So now... whither my Salawat is, 
Verily I know with certainty,
The Prophet is there.

...................................

(Salawat, the greeting of Peace and calling upon Allah's (s.w.t.) blessings for the Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.s.)

Lo! Allah and His angels shower blessings on the Prophet. O ye who believe! Ask blessings on him and salute him with a worthy salutation. (Marmaduke Pickthall)

The blooms withers not. The perfume does not die away with the passing of earthly seasons, its scent lingering in the Prophetic Presence. That is the value of your Salawat.

Birds do it. Bees do it. Even educated fleas do it. Let's do it. Let's fall in love and give him the Salawat.

The stalk does not break or bend. The colors do not fade with the passing of time, nor shed its petals. It will last longer than the longest rerun of the longest Indian tele-drama ever produced. That is timelessness of your Salawat.

Wise men say, "Only fools rush in... but I can't help falling in love with you... and giving you, Oooh my Prophet, your Salawat..." (Extended ElviSalawat Remix)

Words of Light, bound with the band of love and human frailty, growing luminous. You say you understand the meaning of Salawat? Verily, you are presumptuous. One day, if Allah(s.w.t.) wills it, you will be brought to the Place of Salawats, and there will you lose reckoning of your limited understanding. Glory be to He Who Reveals His Glory and Who Hides His Glory!

Gemstones, gold and silver stumble from your lips. If the giant megacorporations were to know of the value of the Salawat, verily they would bribe governments to buy the mining concession on your lips and mine your Salawat. 

If the United States knew of the value of the Salawat, they would incite a regime change on your lips, that they might benefit directly from your Salawat. That is the attraction of your Salawat.

If teenage girls (or middle aged women with teenage hearts) knew the value of the Salawat, not the most pretty, wiggle-wiggle dancing, androgynous K-Pop boyband can make their heart sway the way the Salawat would. Psy would supersede his Gangnam hit with his Salawat hit. And it will be listed in the Heavenly Top One Hundred Billboard. That is the value of your Salawat.

Ahh. That's about enough reasons for the Salawat, don't you agree? And I have not even scratched the surface of the surface of the surface of the meanings. Have a beautiful day, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

WHAT I AM NOT AND WHAT I AM - the bearing of the bearer of prophethood

Without Pride

I am not a drop of water

That you see,

For I came from the lakes,

The rivers and the seas,

Within me courses

All the fountains of heaven,

All the springs of wisdom,

All the pools of beauty,

Made rich when the Lord

Made me the Father of Souls!

If you unfurl the whole night sky,

All the stars you see will not count

For the mercy that I bring in me

When the Lord made me

As Mercy to all the worlds!

And if you can know this without pride,

Then certainly I am with you,

And you are with me!

……………….. 

It doesn't matter who you say you are. It really doesn't matter what title precedes your name, whether it is DR., IR. The Right Honourable, Her Britannic Majesty, a simple Mr. or a Ms. or even Prophet of God. It is the bearing of the bearer that best clarifies his or her character, strength and courage. 

In my irregular meetings with the Sufis that inhabit this part of the world, and indeed worldwide through this almanac and Facebook, my happiest times is hearing them recall their own favourite recollections about Muhammad (s.a.w.s.) Prophet of God. But even above that is the abiding moment when I hear one soul say to me...

Beloved of All Creation

I do not love the Prophet

Because he is the Prophet of God,

I love him for what he means to me,

And my only hope is for God 

To assure my education

About His Muhammad,

Beloved of God,

Beloved of all creation.

................... 

Well there. I am leaving this love letter here for the cyber angels to pluck and bring to the Divine Presence and Muhammad's (s.a.w.s.) attention. In the meantime, and for all eternity, you may read its contents just like the rest of my rambling writings in this almanac. And if you meet the Prophet in your journey, you will recall me and the hearts to him, yes?

Thank you, sunshine. I know I can count on you.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

And of course: The Hearts are the work of Cristina Colombo, Milan. You may visit her Facebook page by Clicking Here. 

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

YA LATIF! THE GENTLE, THE SUBTLE, THE ALL-KIND! - illnesses, life and lessons to learn

Ya Latif

You are my Lord, ya Latif,

The Most Subtle, the Most Gentle,

Like the Rose in the Garden,

Most beautiful are Your petals,

You are my Lord, ya Latif,

The All-Kind, the Most Considerate,

And my desire to know You

Is a desire that cannot wait!

You are my Lord, ya Latif,

And unerring is Your attention,

Gentle and subtle in all Your ways,

How blessed are Your servants!

How nuanced are Your lessons!

How blessed am I

Since the day I was given

Knowledge of You

Till the day that I die!

And more thereafter!

And more thereafter!

.....................

Don't trouble Yourself, with me, God! If you have been reading my postings recently, you would have known that I have contracted some strange skin allergy. I was sad and rather depressed at the unsightly disfigurement of my hands. But I recall that I joked to myself saying, "Oh Lord! Oh such time and trouble You have taken to raise all these ugly looking poxes and scabs on my hands! Really, You ought not to have troubled Yourself with me!"

My poxy scabby hands! But fret not,
they are in fact getting better.

But that is not the nature of God. He does trouble Himself with you. Of course, it is no trouble to Him, really, but when you consider all of creation with its animate and inanimate creatures and things, there would be trillions upon trillions of divine management issues God has to deal with. But despite the things in His care and hands, He still concerns Himself intimately with us. Us poor neglectful humans...

Cleaning up the Temple. And in the difficulties that He sometimes lay upon our path, there is always (ALWAYS) a reason behind it. A clue and a hint for us to understand. And for me, this little allergic reaction was a visual signal to myself to stop neglecting my health. And because of my aversion to my illness, I have actually started to take better care of myself, cutting down my sugar and carb intake, and generally looking after the temple that is my body, as the Christians like to put it. 

Taufiq doesn't get the hint! It is not as if I didn't know about my diabetic condition. I have been suffering from it for more than a decade. But after a decade of continues misuse and neglect, I guess God figured He better send me a more graphic sign as to the illness ailing and hidden inside my body. And even then, He does so with a nuanced and subtle approach - Because only my hands and feet are affected. But I am a writer and a lawyer, I work with my hands, typing and sketching every day. So I cannot but notice His divine hints. This time.

So thank you God, ya Latif... for your continuing attention to me, in Your most gentle and personal way. I would want no other Lord over me than You. So thank God, that there is no god but God after all... ya Latif, ya Allah... by any name that You are happy to be known as... You are awesome to me.

Have a thoughtful day and take care, sunshine. Take care of your temple. 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

There is no Prefixes to the word 'Muslim' - a journey in the meaning of words...

Are You a Muslim?

Who are you to say I am a Muslim?

Who am I to say I am a Muslim?

I want such declaration to come from

No one but Hu, no one but Hu, no one but Hu...

If you meet my soul, perhaps you may believe him,

But I want to hear it from Hu Himself, from Hu Himself, from Hu Himself...

I find it most amusing to hear people speak,

"Oh... I am Muslim!" and "Oh... he is not a Muslim!"

When the light of their knowledge is barely a flicker

In the cosmic chasm of their manners,

Go on... name your country Islamic!

Name your company Islamic!

Name your trade and your title Islamic!

Name your book Islamic...

For Allah Almighty loves a challenge!

Oh Lord! I am cowering in my sickness,

I am hiding in a mousehole in the plain of my soul,

For I am not worthy to be there, to be here, to be anywhere

Where the where is without You!

Oh Allah the Just! Oh Allah the Wise!

You have given humanity Islam,

And now they think they deserve Islam!?

I am prepared to laugh now,

But all I do every day is cry

And I don't even know why...

Oh God

I don't even know why...

..............................

Well, I know that I am a sinner.
Let us start from there.

There is no prefixes to 'Muslim'. In the dictionary of life that I often leaf through there is no word or phrase such as an Islamist. Or modern Muslim. Or progressive / liberal Muslim. Or a fundamentalist Muslim. Or a political Muslim. Or a traditional Muslim. And certainly no reformist Muslim, no neo-Muslim, no revolutionary Muslim, no conservative Muslim, no lipstick Muslim, no secular Muslim and no hardcore Muslim. To the word 'Muslim' there is no prefixes to redefine the meaning of a Muslim. A Muslim is simply a Muslim.

Right. Moving on...

Am I a Muslim? Muslim is a noun, as in a Muslim. But it is also an adjective in the sense that it describes the 'Muslim' as a human being professing to practice the religion of Islam. And that is where most people stop. And in the name of Allah, the Most Nuanced One, the Most Subtle in His ways, I rather think it is a woefully inadequate meaning to give to the word Muslim.

For to say, "I am a Muslim" is to actually mean, "I am undertaking a journey which began even before I was born and one that shall continue after I have passed on. And it is a journey of self-discovery, through which I hope to find the meaning of God as how God intended me to understand Him. And I cannot say with any certainty at which point of the journey towards Muslimhood I am at, only that with each step I find myself sadly inept and negligent and am barely able to carry the little knowledge that I have of myself, and therefore, of God Himself. It is a journey whose caravan head is none other than the Master himself, Saydeena Muhammad (s.a.w.s.), in train with his Companions and the Saints. The light shines somewhere in the far distant, and I can hear the music in their voices, laughter and weary tears. I can smell the perfume of their presence though they have longed died (as far as we understand what life and death mean). My ragged soul, much tested and found to be wanting by this world's trials and tribulations, is glowing not with my own piety, not my own poor facsimile of faith, but with the reflected glorious spirit of my ancestors who came before me, and my descendants who shall soon come after me. I am unfit to be called a Muslim. I am a soul set adrift in the Sea of Temptation and am still searching for my true harbour. Once I am there, only then I will know that I am a Muslim, if it pleases my God to welcome me home."

It is Friday, sunshine. With the rising Sun comes a rising contemplation of who I am ...of who we all are.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

I am not Lost. I am in Love.

1.      I am not lost

God bless you and your family,

For God loves he who keeps faith

With those who appear lost.

But I am not lost, you see.

I am in love.

................................

The scenario of falling in love is sometimes closely connected with some lost or other. Lost of your reason... that's a pretty frequent story. Lost of your property... that is also a common malady of love. Lost of your senses... oh boy, can I write a novel about that. Lost of your kingdom... Lost of your freedom... Lost of your free time.. lost of perhaps many things which you once cherished and held dear.

A friend of mine who was recently married is a good example of this pandemic of lost. For I am seeing him becoming somehow different, coping with married life and the accessories of changes that comes with the 'I do'. We sometimes meet, and he regal me with his domestic arrangement and the fixings and repairs required in moving into a new house. But most of all, he talks a lot about his wife, fascinated by the behaviour and personality of his own Frau of the Haus. Like a jigsaw he has long puzzled over, everything in his life is finally fitting in now, just nicely. 

So I guess it is good to lose something sometimes. Because my friend, in his 42nd year, has gone and lost his heart to a girl, and with it his solitude and loneliness. 

Alhamdulillah.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way