Replay.

"Kalau enti graduate nanti, kelulusan enti lebih tinggi daripada ustaz."
"Apa maksud ustaz?"
"Ana cuma belajar sampai diploma je. Enti kalau habis belajar, enti dapat degree."
"Ana tak rasa gitu, ustaz."
"Enti fikirkanlah."

-----

"Ana tak kisah pun kalau tak habis belajar dalam 4 tahun. Tahu tak kenapa semua bersungguh-sungguh nak habiskan dalam 4 tahun?"

"Kenapa?"

"Sebab sekeliling semua macam tu. Dah jadi kebiasaan. Orang suka ikut kebiasaan.

.... In the end, fikir balik, ada apa dengan kita nak ikut kebiasaan. Apa sebenarnya yang kita dah dapat dalam 4 tahun tu? 4 tahun tak cukup sebenarnya."

-----

Replay.

Between fantasy and certainty.

A dream is something that feels up the emptiness inside. The one thing that you know if it came true, all the hurt would go away.

What's your dream?

At the photocopy shop.

Among my favourite photocopy shops is Salsabiil. A small, humble shop in the middle of the 7th district; a place so familiar. I love it because the quality of the printing is always rather pleasing as compared to other places. And the service has never been bad, alhamdulillah.

So today I had to make 6 copies of a stack of notes. This time, I knew my visit to the photocopy shop wasn't going to be a short one. The middle-aged man named Alaa' working at the Salsabil is someone whom I'm used to seeing, and kinda friendly. So when he sees me he'll always talk about everything under the sun. I had a lot of stuff to be photocopied, so the conversation was rather long today (obviously). 

I was busy replying text messages, but Alaa' seemed happy with my presence, and simply starting talking.

"Yasmeen, you know how much I like Asians and Russians who come or pass by here everyday?"

"No, not really. And my name is Fairuz."

"Oh dear I'm so sorry. Fairuz. Yes. I remember you."
"Who's Yasmeen?"

He became silent for a long time, and I felt bad. Because I knew I must've reminded him of a painful memory. But then the guilt turned into restlessness, because I did have to have 6 stacks of notes in my hands and have them binded, and he was just standing there, staring into the ceiling as if trying to stop himself from crying, with only one stack of notes in his hands. I had to say something.

"I'm really sorry... was Yasmeen someone you loved before?"

He blinked, and smiled. Not that kind of a smile that you make when you're recalling a beautiful memory. It was the smile you make when recalling something so bitter.

"I used to love a woman. For years. But I wasn't ready. I had to support my father, who's chronically ill, and I vowed to myself that I would see my younger sister marry first, and help her to that. I took years to have the courage. When I finally thought I was ready... she had already married. She had a daughter. Her daughter's name is Yasmeen. And now I just watch her from afar."

"I'm sure there's one lady out there you would like. Egyptian women are all beautiful."

"No, it's not the same. It will never be the same."

I didn't know what to say, except for my apologies. I believed the best way was to change the topic. (Either that, or I could just painfully stare at how slow the progress of the photocopying was going?) So we had lengthy conversations about politics, about the house he bought for his sister and other light things like how I was doing in uni and where I lived, also random stuff like how both of us agreed that living expenses in Egypt was getting a bit expensive.

The atmosphere was calm, and turned silent as Alaa' was picking up his pace at photocopying. And suddenly he started talking again. It reflected how the woman he loved was still in his mind. So fresh.

"For your young age, Fairuz, do you know what love is?" 

I kept silent. From the look at him, I knew it wasn't a question I was supposed to answer.

"Love is when you look at the person and that person knows what you want. Knows your needs. And feels what you feel, even when you haven't felt it." 

And as he handed me the six stacks of notes, I left the shop questioning how I myself love.

Of polygamy, monogamy, and jealousy.

"Did Sarah imagine that monogamy somehow secured her worth as a woman, a human? 

I don't measure my worth by the actions of a man," Nusaybah had said.

So what was Sarah so afraid of?

What would - or could - a co-wife really take from her that had ever been hers in the first place? Wasn't a human's worth determined by the person's belief in Allah and righteous actions? Or did she believe that her belief in Allah and submission to Him would somehow be disrupted if she accepted her husband's marriage choice? 

- Footsteps, by Umm Zakiyyah

I've only read excerpts of the book online, and this particular one really made me think. A lot. They say women are jealous by nature, and men are polygamous by nature. But to what extend is this statement true? Sometimes we know the theoretical aspect of life, but I believe it is through true experiences and social observation that we develop our senses and understand life. 

I know for a fact that women by nature are created with jealousy as a characteristic, but I am not quite sure about men being polygamous. Some call me naive, others say I am being unrealistically optimistic, but I think that even if it is true, then it is for sure it is something Allah created so that men - if they choose to kindle it - would keep it in line. Men (not men as in rijaal, but men as in naas) too was created with lust, and it is something that is expected for everyone to contain.

I think I know how I feel about polygamy, but I don't feel comfortable expressing it because it is a judgement I have made without being in the circumstances.

This is life. And we have to choose how to live it.