PART II

NINA

Soon after my Shahada, I started maintaining a book of all the Islamic quotes, as I couldn’t put them up on the walls of my religiously Christian home, that touched me the most on a personal level and provided comfort and solace in my trying times. My friend Arman whom I had met through chat-forums and again on Twitter seemed like fate and a ray of hope I was so desperately looking for. He suggested that I pray, read, re-read and meditate on the powerful words of His Holy One on the prayer mat he had mailed to me as a gift to his fellow-Islam sister. I was beginning to like that he called me that. I found it strange that I was comfortable with it at first, but the calm soothing of it was embracing and I was helpless but to be embalmed in it, taking it as a reassuring sign.

The questions were not just mere existential questions or a philosophical bug that kept my thoughts pre-occupied. My grandmother always placed the root-cause and blame on my substance-abuse of a mother who ran away from home in a hysterical fright to never return again (or at least that is what Nana told me; deep down I knew she was dead within a year or two of her running away) at the age of three, and my father, I never knew him or his whereabouts, although there are pictures of me and him till about the age of five, so I knew he stuck longer but other than that, Nana and Papa were all I had and they never gave me closure on the subjects of my parents.

I mostly kept to myself and thanks to the internet, I found more like-minded people on there, than in real life, through social networking sites like Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr that sometimes graduated to hour-long chats on Skype. That is how I had met Arman.

And so on the night of July 30^th, 2014 I had performed Shahada on Twitter in front of my fellow brothers and sisters as I renounced my old faith of Christianity and took on this new cloak of Islamism and for the first time in my life I felt a sense of belonging and fellowship take the place of my deep-seated vulnerability and alienation and I was truly happy.

Naeem, I think was her name, just stared at me with her mouth opened wide, eyes not blinking as she failed to find words to explain my “foolishness”.

“So you’re telling me that you, you voluntarily chose this life, this hell-hole and it was not something that was forced on you with no escape? Looks like you inherited your mother’s disease of hysteria, only you were drunk on Arman’s words and his charms and the lure of false promises, you are a fool, girl!” Nadia, the older looking one chimed in along with Naeem.

Naeem still in her state of disbelief continued, “You know what happens to us girls here don’t you? Do you know what they are going to do to you or are you that naïve?”
“Yes. Of course. I’m going to get married and I’m going to help him and his community serve God through me; my life is HIS. After all, it is HE who has given me my life and meaning, who am I to decide what to do with it when a clear-cut path is in front of me.”

Naeem, who seemed in a greater state of shock than ever before looked like she would pass out any minute. “So who is this prince charming of yours?” Nadia seemed to take over for Naeem.

“I don’t know, but Arman said he’s the chief of a group here and other than the fact that he is stout, balding and with specs, I know nothing more. God has destined this, I’m not questioning it.”

“Oh God huh? God has destined this. Wow this Arman and God sure do go back for God to personally come and lay a path for you, chose a husband for you and write a manual for your life! You must be a special girl, unlike us ordinary beings.” Nadia’s voice was now dripping with sarcasm.

“No. It’s nothing like that….”

“Leave that, I don’t care. I’m already married and my husband is working for your best friend—God, and Naeem here is too young to get married. But answer me this, if all this is a fairy tale, why do you look frightened, huh girl?”

“I…I…I…don’t know..”