The Sahaba Eating Beetroot

Hadhrat Sahl bin Sa’d Saa’idi radhiyAllahu anhu narrates:

There was a woman amongst us who had a farm and she used to grow beetroot on her farm. On Fridays she used to pullout the beetroot from its roots and put the roots in a utensil. Then she would put a handful of barley over it and cook it. The roots if the beetroot were a substitute for meat. After finishing the Jumu’ah salaah, we used to greet her and she would give us the food, which we would eat with our hands and because of that meal we used to look forward to Friday.”

[Bukhari -Hadith 928]

  • Desiring sustenance or food that is blessed is better even if it be less.
  • We are able to gauge the level of contentment of the Sahaba that they were satisfied with very little.


A Vivid Memory

It was a normal Saturday night. The boys weren’t going out..unfortunately.
Anyhow, I preferred my own company.

I chilled..plugged my earphones in and blocked the world out.

That was my way of comfort.

I had been through a whole lot in my life. Being a 16 year old meant that I never took my life seriously.

I’m still 16 right?

I was quite exhausted that evening. But I chilled nonetheless.

I was chatting to some girls when I remember exactly how the whole scene unfolded.

It was exactly 2:09am on Sunday morning when my cell rang.
No one ever calls on my cell except out of emergency.
So you can imagine what thoughts went through my already occupied mind at that time of the morning.

It was Ozayr. My very close buddy. We had a very close relationship, despite the differences. Ozayr was the guy who always encouraged to good. He was my man. I loved him. He was an amazing person and I never realised that.

“Moe, it’s Ebrahim; Ozayr’s brother…uhh Ozayr had a ..uhh…little accident..”

“Is he okay?” I asked before he could continue.

“No. Infact he never made it. ”

And he cut the call. Or I cut the call. I can’t remember.

What had just happened?!

I had lost my friend. My brother.

I was emotionless for about a minute until everything registered in my mind. I jumped out of bed and called Ebrahim directly.

He just answered telling me to come to the scene.

I never had my license but I risked my life. I drove like a maniac. Fortunately, I arrived in one piece.

I rushed to the scene.

the memory is so vivid, I swear.

Ozayr’s sister, Layyana was crying hysterically. She was knelt next to his body wiping her tears furiously.

I ran to Ozayr and screamed mentally when I seen my friend…my brother…dead. lifeless.
He was gone.

For good.

I never knew what to do.

Ebrahim looked like a wreck.

Ozayr was drowning a blood. There was blood almost everywhere.

I couldn’t handle it any longer.

I needed something to punch. To break.

I needed to take out my anger on something. On someone.

I guess I needed time. But in that moment of despair, I forgot.

I had just lost someone?!

How would I survive?

Ozayr was my best buddy. Ozayr and I had met many years back in pre school. He was my friend despite me being so messed up and upto nonsence. He always said that I can become better.

Ozayr believed in me when no one did.

Ozayr comforted me when no one did.

Ozayr and I had conversations that up until today I have never had with anyone else.

Ozayr was my inspiration.

And I miss him.

So very much.

They had to take his body for further examination. Ebrahim and I went to his house.

There was going to be a funeral.

Since the day my grandfather’s brother had passed on, I had hated funerals. All I wanted to was cry. But I never cried. Coz I was Muhammed Ismaeel. And Muhammed Ismaeel never cried in public.

Oh what is even wrong with me?

I was hurt beyond comprehension.

I think of all the memories when I’m alone..and I can’t stop the tears from flowing.

I miss him so much.

the day Ozayr left us was the day I changed. I left my past and began a new life.

Sometimes I’d randomly punch the wall..thinking of the moments spent with him.

But at the end of the day I learnt that don’t wait for a calamity to befall you-  to change…

Change for the better the day after yesterday and the day before tomorrow.

Random musings

It was 2:30am. I was in the basement trying to make sense of my messed up life. Things just weren’t getting better at all. I tried accepting everything but that just made things harder. I tried to live a happy, positive life but I was too caught up in sorrow to actually find happiness.

I was a mixture of dysfunctional, messed up and useless. Or was it hopeless?

I stared at the ivory wall which was almost fully clothed in dust.
The basement was the place he frequently came to. He would jot down his thoughts on the black notepad that I was ever familiar with.
When he left the world, I never understood why he held such a strong connection to this place…and today I am here at 2:30am asking myself the exact same question!

He had golden brown hair which was mostly messy..he’d run his fingers at the ends when he was nervous or anxious. His eyes were the most beautiful eyes I had ever seen. They were green. A pale green.. he had perfectly straight teeth that were exposed almost all the time due to his ever smiling nature. He was fair in complexion and would ‘blush’ when teased. He always chose the best style in his clothes. He loved white. He always wore white sneakers. He was tall, but not too tall. He was the perfect but not perfect, extraordinary but out of the ordianry person. He was my type of person.

And now he is just a mere name..not known to anyone..but sealed in many hearts.

I felt a bucket load of tears push themselves out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I seen the first drop on my notepad. It messed up the ink.
How can you live without someone?

It is so hard. I miss him so much…

I wiped my tears haphazardly as I pushed my notepad away and left my head to rest on the solid iron table.

He was my everything. .

These are just random musings…completely fictional.

Request for du’aas.

The never ending present

He slammed his fist against the coffee table.
He heard glass shattering.
It was as if he could feel his heart shattering too.
His past had driven him to the person he was.
He present was transforming him into a devil.
Into a cold heartless devil.
He hated life.
He hated people.
He hated happy people.
He loathed life…he despised life.
He wanted death.

He wished for death.

It was too long to hold on for.

He couldn’t live anymore.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned around.

There she stood…

She looked at him with eyes of desperation.

She was pleading with him..

She wanted him to stop.

She wanted him to be positive.

She believed in him when no one did.

“Ozayr…say with me…”

He looked at her slightly annoyed.

He was calm under her touch.

“What?” He breathed.

” ﺍﻟﻠﻬُﻢَّ ﺃَﺣْﻴِﻨِﻲ ﻣَﺎ ﻛَﺎﻧَﺖِ ﺍﻟْﺤَﻴَﺎﺓُ ﺧَﻴْﺮًﺍ
ﻟِﻲ، ﻭَﺗَﻮَﻓَّﻨِﻲ ﺇِﺫَﺍ ﻛَﺎﻧَﺖِ ﺍﻟْﻮَﻓَﺎﺓُ ﺧَﻴْﺮًﺍ ﻟِﻲ”

“Why are you telling me all these du’aas?”

“Ozayr. Nabi (salAllahu alayhi wa salam) said that none of you should desire for death due to a calamity which befell him. If he can’t (not desire) then he should say that O Allah give me life as long as life is better for me and give me death as long as death is better for me..”

He felt so relieved.

He felt so …amazing.

How could his religion be so perfect that it even taught you prayers for when life becomes tough?

He smiled at her…and gave her a hug.

She was his little sister who had looked up to him since the day his parents left this world.

And since that moment he realised that life was tough but it doesn’t have to affect everything in his life.

The irony

The front door banged shut.


I stared at my reflection in the mirror.

I quickly grabbed my mascara, eyeliner, and all the other ascessories.

I made a dash for the bathroom before anyone noticed me.

I applied my make up as fast as I could.

When I was done, I came out.

Looking as elegant as always.
Putting that pretty ‘fake’ smile on.
Wearing clothes that didn’t reflect my soul.

I just shrugged as a whole lot of other thoughts came flooding in.

When it came to things like going out for family functions, chilling with friends, or just having fun – I’d always not be myself.

The thing is I never have time to be myself.

I’m too busy showing the world another personality.

The world has stolen my glow.

Today was dinner at some fancy restaurant.

My parent’s who were too caught up in their lives never really payed attention to me.
I mean sure they cared, but I was just… you know?

So as I walked to my aunt, flashing my million dollar smile, putting all my sorrows away…I realised something.

I am such a hypocrite.

I greeted all the family members like how I was taught. Be formal, mom always said.

Everyone was caught up in lives full of riches, luxury and wealth.
The whole discussion amongst everyone consisted of gossip, some more gossip, a little more gossip, some fancy shoe, dress, perfume, some celebrity, and the rich life.

I was a spoilt brat.

So that night as I layed my head on my pillow, I thought as much as I could.

And I realised that I am actually a slave to this temporary world.

I am so involved in luxury that I’ve forgotten so many other things.

I am putting on a façade.

My whole face what I show to the world is nothing but deception.

No one knows the real me.

That’s because I have no time to show anyone my real self.

I am taught to be formal in all my ways of life..but ultimately this isn’t going to lead me to success.

So after that heart warming mind and soul discussion, I decided that from today I am going to show the world my real self. I am going to prove that my eternal life is better than this life of sorrow.

Coz I’ve realised that in wealth sorrow is found..
And contentment is found in the depths of simplicity.

“And what is the life of the world compared to the hereafter.”
“And the hereafter is better and everlasting.”