Wednesday, September 27, 2006


Tarbiyyah of the heart.

Assalamualaikum wrh. wbt.

We had a fantastic day at the Tulip Festival, alhamdulillah. Us fresh(wo)men were in the Tarrago, snug and comfy, while our seniors roughened it out in the Charades, but altogether, we had real fun. We stood in awe of Allah's wonderful creations - at the multitude of colours, and the clear-blue sky, and the easy breeze, at the luscious greenery as we travelled the winding roads, and the adorable children that ran about the blooming flowers.

"I don't want to be a grown-up like the grown-ups I have seen,
'Cause the grown-ups I have seen don't seem to have much fun."
-The Blue Sky is Blue by Dawud Wharnsby-

We prayed in the grass amidst the lovely smells and brilliant colours of Spring, and we had a delicious iftar.

So maybe I want to grow up.

Still. Something about this day, I have to share. It's a sort of story, with a sort of moral, insyaAllah. We'll see how I progress in prose; the interview with Terri Irwin on Channel Nine still has me in a sort of emotional griphold i.e. makes me miss my parents, especially my father, so badly.

There were tulips in the thousands, I don't doubt, at the Festival. It was gorgeous, and after taking pictures for several hours in the warm sun, most of us decided to buy some flowers for home. I got a few bouquets of tulips from the picking farm, and got a pot of lovely pink hyacinths, already in radiant bloom, and smelling so much like my favourite scents.

But just before we made our way back home, a strong gust of wind ruffled a few hijabs, and fell my pot of hyacinths onto the ground.

I was disappointed.

I have had many great outings in the past few months, only to be marred by little incidents that sort of dull the memories a bit. I had counted on taking good care of the hyacinths, making sure they grew well and healthy. The promised three blooms were already out, but the fall broke a steady bloom of tiny pink flowers, and made a pretty little mess of wet sand.

I was sad.

My mind immediately thought of the very recent and still painful loss of my mobile phone. I used to pride myself on not being all that reliant on modern technology, but Allah has proven me wrong in that respect. I actually miss my old mobile and the noise it makes, and the pictures it stored, and texts from my family that I saved up for later pangs of homesickness. I was thinking of having it replaced by a new Sony Ericsson soon, and I always thought to myself about how lacking it was in features compared to other phones.

I guess I needed a lesson.

But after my hyacinths got damaged, I suddenly remembered my phone, and I guess I wasn't really thinking straight. I felt an immediate frown on my face, and my mind went on a tangent:

Why me?

And then I repeated the istighfar to myself, many times over.
It is not in the character of a true believer to question what has been fated by Allah.

'The pen has been lifted; the pages have dried.'

And then I started to reason out the reasons why God has tried my in such a trivial, yet emotional way. With all the due limitations of my reasoning, of course. And I thought I sort of got it. I was still sad, but I could accept it, somewhat.

But then when we got back from the mosque, and I started unpacking all the tulip blooms, I set up the hyacinths in the most convenient place I could. And after I patted the sand and gave it a good watering, I was taken aback.

In the middle of the pot, still green but perched and ready to emerge, was another immature bloom of flowers.

Praise be to Allah, Lord of the Worlds; the Gracious, the Most Kind. (1:2-3)

Like I once said to my friend, "The way Allah proves us wrong can be so cute sometimes."

Those are words I won't ever take back.

Here's to tarbiyyah of the heart.

Wassalamualaikum.

this has been a rant by Syazwina Saw at 9:18 pm

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