reader Rums, sent me this adorable list! lovely trip down memory lane!
Most romantic moment=the proposal(nikah papers)
Most emotional happy moment=imraan sending tracker2find fatti
Most memorable moment=picnic on t roof
Most cherishable moment=anniversary gift
Most funny=mil scene at t award
Most funny2=imraan rushing fatti 2mamajee in fatti pj top
Most shocking=wen summaya heard hubby wanted a 2nd wife-shukr nevi happen
Most adorable=the make up after misunderstanding fight
share your favourite moments in the comments if you wish:)
xree
Thursday 19 March 2015
Saturday 14 March 2015
Thank You!!!!
thank you to every single person who ever read this blog...the stats always made me smile!
thank you to every person who commented, emailed and shared their thoughts... I appreciate your words so much.
thank you to all those who know me and get so excited to figure out I was writing this story! Too cute!
This story is over, I tried to make it complete...to keep it real. The storyline wrote itself...i never set out to write a sad blog...it just happened. I tried to change it, but my mind didn't allow it. I hope you enjoyed it even though it wasn't the perfect happy ending...
so before I say goodbye, I just wanted to include some trivia:
this blog was written, posted, maintained and edited entirely from a mobile phone. Every episode is saved as a note on my phone.
I wrote most of the post while on maternity leave when my son was sleeping, and I should have been sleeping too!
in the original first post, Fatima and Imraan didn't have names, I was just writing.
in the first few post I didn't know what work Fatima did, only after I wrote the post on how they met it fell into place, and I went back and added it to earlier post.
I choose Port Shepstone as her home town because I lived there briefly in 2013 (best memories ever), so I was familiar with the landmarks.
Ahmed was invented just to protray all the pre-marriage drama. Dilnaas's name was originally Mariam,but when I was reading my sisters blog, I saw that a couple in her story had the same names...changing her name had changed her personality though lol...a Dilnaas couldn't be anything less than fabulous;)
Kats and luths are actually the real names of my own good friends, while the characters weren't based on them, it just some how happened and I figured every girl needs amazing friends like mine...even frictional ones.
my husband only managed to read 3 post of this blog before he decided it was too long and boring. :)
I didn't want Imraan to die...i tried to rewrite the post 6times.
lol, hope you found the story, behind the story, just as fun.
much love, till my next venture...
Ree
thank you to every person who commented, emailed and shared their thoughts... I appreciate your words so much.
thank you to all those who know me and get so excited to figure out I was writing this story! Too cute!
This story is over, I tried to make it complete...to keep it real. The storyline wrote itself...i never set out to write a sad blog...it just happened. I tried to change it, but my mind didn't allow it. I hope you enjoyed it even though it wasn't the perfect happy ending...
so before I say goodbye, I just wanted to include some trivia:
this blog was written, posted, maintained and edited entirely from a mobile phone. Every episode is saved as a note on my phone.
I wrote most of the post while on maternity leave when my son was sleeping, and I should have been sleeping too!
in the original first post, Fatima and Imraan didn't have names, I was just writing.
in the first few post I didn't know what work Fatima did, only after I wrote the post on how they met it fell into place, and I went back and added it to earlier post.
I choose Port Shepstone as her home town because I lived there briefly in 2013 (best memories ever), so I was familiar with the landmarks.
Ahmed was invented just to protray all the pre-marriage drama. Dilnaas's name was originally Mariam,but when I was reading my sisters blog, I saw that a couple in her story had the same names...changing her name had changed her personality though lol...a Dilnaas couldn't be anything less than fabulous;)
Kats and luths are actually the real names of my own good friends, while the characters weren't based on them, it just some how happened and I figured every girl needs amazing friends like mine...even frictional ones.
my husband only managed to read 3 post of this blog before he decided it was too long and boring. :)
I didn't want Imraan to die...i tried to rewrite the post 6times.
lol, hope you found the story, behind the story, just as fun.
much love, till my next venture...
Ree
Epilogue: Surprise!!!!;
Today is my birthday, I turn 16th. Its not that special, since i share my birthday with another human that lives in my house! but, Today, my mother gave me the best gift I could have ever asked for...a glimpse into my past...her past...the past.
For 16 years I have asked my mother to tell me about my father, his family, her family.
I wanted to know who I was and where I belong, I wanted some history.
My mother always avoided the topic. The only family I really remember growing up was my granny, I called her Nani, she was my mothers mother.
For most of my childhood Nani use to visit every month for one weekend, she was amazing. She brought us gifts and told me stories' about my Nana and about my mother when she was young.
I looked forward to Nanis visits more than anything else.
My mother calls me Imirani. My brother and I live a quiet life in a small town. We are twins, but we look nothing alike! We different on the inside too. He is very outgoing, crazy and ready to take on the world. I am more book-smart and domestic, if you can call it that.
this town is 10 years behind time, even for me! I rather be overseas to visit my Kala in London- we only went once. My mothers brother and his wife live in Australia, they Skype often, but I don't know them at all.
we lived this isolated life all these years,my mother teachers at the local primary school and she works so hard. She has been the deputy principal for 10 years.
Now, i feel like everything is going to change ... We are going to a town 3hours away-Pietermaritizburg.
I think that is why my mother gave me access to her diary, this place has something to do with the past.
....
I stayed up all night reading my mothers old online diary, I cried...i laughed, I am amazed and in awe...
my mother has been incredibly strong, the last post in her diary, has me reeling.
------------------------
"I finally took over the care of my precious children and in this kidmaat I find solace. If only Imraan's mother could find her peace.
my iddaat is coming to an end, I want to go home and stand on my own two feet. Imraan's mother is threatening to lock down our house, she claims it is part of his estate. She still blames me for his death...she wants me to feel what she feels, as if i dont already...
She wants me to give her Zeyaan. I can't bear the thought of giving up my child...these children are all I have.
I wish I could take my babies and just disappear, some how just slip under the Rader.
I dreamt of Imraan again...he was in a beautiful garden and I was trying to run towards him...but I couldn't reach him...he was saying something to me...i stopped running and tried to listen...i woke up in a cold sweat.
"go...go...don't look back!" "
----------------------------------------
I went to the privacy settings on the blog and changed it to public. It was time for the world to know my mothers story.
at the first signs of day break, I crept into my mothers room. I found her still on her musallah. I hugged her as we cried together. Our tears washing away years of fear and pain.
"She is gone?", I asked my mother.
"No, she is very ill...she phoned to apologies after all these years...she wants to give me the house. I think she wants to see you both too" My mother said.
My mother was talking about my fathers mother, the person who would have been my Dadi...the person who spewed lies and accusations against my mother, tricked her into signing away her rights and shares from her marriage to my father. A women who ignored my mothers pain 16years ago and a women who tried to split our family further.
yet, my mother spoke with complete peace. She showed no anger or bitterness.
everything made sense now, why we lived such a quiet life, so isolated. Why we hardly knew any family.
"let's go tell Zeyaan...", I said.
my mother started laughing. "Oh, imirani...you remind me so much of your father!" she said with eyes filled with memories. " I don't think your brother will be happy to be awoken at this hour! Lets wait till breakfast atleast", she said.
" no this is important!!!!", I insisted as I hopped off to his room.
my name is Zehrah Imirani...and today, my family is going home!
For 16 years I have asked my mother to tell me about my father, his family, her family.
I wanted to know who I was and where I belong, I wanted some history.
My mother always avoided the topic. The only family I really remember growing up was my granny, I called her Nani, she was my mothers mother.
For most of my childhood Nani use to visit every month for one weekend, she was amazing. She brought us gifts and told me stories' about my Nana and about my mother when she was young.
I looked forward to Nanis visits more than anything else.
My mother calls me Imirani. My brother and I live a quiet life in a small town. We are twins, but we look nothing alike! We different on the inside too. He is very outgoing, crazy and ready to take on the world. I am more book-smart and domestic, if you can call it that.
this town is 10 years behind time, even for me! I rather be overseas to visit my Kala in London- we only went once. My mothers brother and his wife live in Australia, they Skype often, but I don't know them at all.
we lived this isolated life all these years,my mother teachers at the local primary school and she works so hard. She has been the deputy principal for 10 years.
Now, i feel like everything is going to change ... We are going to a town 3hours away-Pietermaritizburg.
I think that is why my mother gave me access to her diary, this place has something to do with the past.
....
I stayed up all night reading my mothers old online diary, I cried...i laughed, I am amazed and in awe...
my mother has been incredibly strong, the last post in her diary, has me reeling.
------------------------
"I finally took over the care of my precious children and in this kidmaat I find solace. If only Imraan's mother could find her peace.
my iddaat is coming to an end, I want to go home and stand on my own two feet. Imraan's mother is threatening to lock down our house, she claims it is part of his estate. She still blames me for his death...she wants me to feel what she feels, as if i dont already...
She wants me to give her Zeyaan. I can't bear the thought of giving up my child...these children are all I have.
I wish I could take my babies and just disappear, some how just slip under the Rader.
I dreamt of Imraan again...he was in a beautiful garden and I was trying to run towards him...but I couldn't reach him...he was saying something to me...i stopped running and tried to listen...i woke up in a cold sweat.
"go...go...don't look back!" "
----------------------------------------
I went to the privacy settings on the blog and changed it to public. It was time for the world to know my mothers story.
at the first signs of day break, I crept into my mothers room. I found her still on her musallah. I hugged her as we cried together. Our tears washing away years of fear and pain.
"She is gone?", I asked my mother.
"No, she is very ill...she phoned to apologies after all these years...she wants to give me the house. I think she wants to see you both too" My mother said.
My mother was talking about my fathers mother, the person who would have been my Dadi...the person who spewed lies and accusations against my mother, tricked her into signing away her rights and shares from her marriage to my father. A women who ignored my mothers pain 16years ago and a women who tried to split our family further.
yet, my mother spoke with complete peace. She showed no anger or bitterness.
everything made sense now, why we lived such a quiet life, so isolated. Why we hardly knew any family.
"let's go tell Zeyaan...", I said.
my mother started laughing. "Oh, imirani...you remind me so much of your father!" she said with eyes filled with memories. " I don't think your brother will be happy to be awoken at this hour! Lets wait till breakfast atleast", she said.
" no this is important!!!!", I insisted as I hopped off to his room.
my name is Zehrah Imirani...and today, my family is going home!
Saturday 28 February 2015
an update from the MiA author:)
As salaam mu alikum
I'm pleased to announce that I'm logging in after nearly a month!
I wish I could say "I'm back", but I can't. My plate is really full right now and the blog has taken a back seat.
shukraan, many of you have stayed this journey with me from the start, the ups and downs. You have tolerated my erratic posting schedules and long breaks. I must thank you.
so, I can't leave this story and the characters that became so dear to me, just hanging in mid air...i have to end it.
insha'Allah, there will be, one final installment of this story soon, for those that still check this blog, for the people that email to ask if its ending, for my friends that check if I still have a pulse :)
soon, I promise!
much love,
ree
I'm pleased to announce that I'm logging in after nearly a month!
I wish I could say "I'm back", but I can't. My plate is really full right now and the blog has taken a back seat.
shukraan, many of you have stayed this journey with me from the start, the ups and downs. You have tolerated my erratic posting schedules and long breaks. I must thank you.
so, I can't leave this story and the characters that became so dear to me, just hanging in mid air...i have to end it.
insha'Allah, there will be, one final installment of this story soon, for those that still check this blog, for the people that email to ask if its ending, for my friends that check if I still have a pulse :)
soon, I promise!
much love,
ree
Tuesday 20 January 2015
Part 66: Emerging...
I felt like I was struggling beneath the surface, drowning...but not wanting to emerge.
Slowly the weeks were ticking by and life was going on for everybody else...
For everybody else except me!
I submerged myself in tilawaat and zikr...it was the only solace for my broken heart.
It was all I could now do for Imraan.
I felt nothing about life or the world, I barely knew what day it was and I certainly wasn't aware of the passing of time.
But, alas...time waits for no man.
Shireen came to visit, amongst the sea of other visitors, her visit stuck out.
Most people who came, asked how I am awkwardly..they mumbled kind words and duas and then they felt lost looking at me, I didn't blame them...even I was lost. Most people usually turned to mummy or dilnaas or sabera, whoever else was there...they usually spoke about me in stage whispers, as if I wasn't there.
"Kaam che? Shame man...she's eating ne hando?bechari...whoo kaari?"
I usually just shut it out and continue my ibbadaat, my essale sawaab.
The more I turned to Allah, the better I felt. I was doing something worthwhile for Imraan...i was doing all I could do!
Shireens visit was different, after the awkwardness, she burst forth with news, to exciting to contain...she was pregnant again!
Her happiness and excitement was evident as she gushed about this and that. She didn't seem to mind my lack of response nor did she notice my growing anger.
After she left I was reeling. How dare she! She was cruel and heartless!!! Here I was, a widow before 30...with two fatherless children and all she cared about was herself! I didn't need a reminder how perfect everybody else life was! I was so angry, I cried hot angry tears into my pillow.
Emotions gushed out of me from deep within my soul. I begged Allah to fill my heart with sukoon. I couldn't take this pain anymore.
Once I had calmed down I could think straight and I realized how wrong I was. Shireen had every right to be happy...every right to enjoy her good fortune...every right to bask in the glow of her pregnancy. What right did I have to wish her less joy?
Death had left my children fatherless but my well of self pity was leaving them motherless!
Nobody knows better than me, how short life is...perfect can be snatched away in a minute. Happiness can turn to sadness, in only a second...
I lost my husband but I shouldn't be robbing my babies of a mother too.
I woke up and washed my face...i creped into Ahmeds old room just as my mother was preparing a bottle to feed Zeyaan.
I took the bottle from her and lifted the baby, wordlessly. My mother looked surprised but she didn't say anything. I sat with Zeyaan as he nestled against me his crying immediately stopped as I placed the bottle at his little rosebud lips.
His eyes were the exact same colour that Imraan's had been, I realized as Zeyaan looked up at me. His eyes never left my face as he drank his feed in my arms.
Before I could even burp him, he softly tucked into the nook of my arm and fell asleep.
I looked up to were mummy had been standing, watching us...only to realize she had slowly left without me noticing.
I carried my baby son to the bed and laid down next to him. I glanced at Zehrah sleeping in the cot next to the bed and I fell asleep.
I woke up from the first restfull sleep since the accident. I gazed at my two perfect little babies and realized that, that moment...that single moment, was the most peaceful one, I had had, in weeks.
It was almost perfect....almost, but not quite.
this sadness will always hang at the edge some where...but it doesn't have to consume me. It tinges my life and thoughts, but it cannot cripple me.
I am no longer Imraan's wife...but I am Zehrah and Zeyaans mother.
Imraan is no longer here...but I am!
I am all that they have...and I owe it to them to be strong. I owe it to Imraan, to be the best that I can be.
Who else would be able to tell them what an amazing man their father was?
Was...were...had been.
All we have left, are memories.
Slowly the weeks were ticking by and life was going on for everybody else...
For everybody else except me!
I submerged myself in tilawaat and zikr...it was the only solace for my broken heart.
It was all I could now do for Imraan.
I felt nothing about life or the world, I barely knew what day it was and I certainly wasn't aware of the passing of time.
But, alas...time waits for no man.
Shireen came to visit, amongst the sea of other visitors, her visit stuck out.
Most people who came, asked how I am awkwardly..they mumbled kind words and duas and then they felt lost looking at me, I didn't blame them...even I was lost. Most people usually turned to mummy or dilnaas or sabera, whoever else was there...they usually spoke about me in stage whispers, as if I wasn't there.
"Kaam che? Shame man...she's eating ne hando?bechari...whoo kaari?"
I usually just shut it out and continue my ibbadaat, my essale sawaab.
The more I turned to Allah, the better I felt. I was doing something worthwhile for Imraan...i was doing all I could do!
Shireens visit was different, after the awkwardness, she burst forth with news, to exciting to contain...she was pregnant again!
Her happiness and excitement was evident as she gushed about this and that. She didn't seem to mind my lack of response nor did she notice my growing anger.
After she left I was reeling. How dare she! She was cruel and heartless!!! Here I was, a widow before 30...with two fatherless children and all she cared about was herself! I didn't need a reminder how perfect everybody else life was! I was so angry, I cried hot angry tears into my pillow.
Emotions gushed out of me from deep within my soul. I begged Allah to fill my heart with sukoon. I couldn't take this pain anymore.
Once I had calmed down I could think straight and I realized how wrong I was. Shireen had every right to be happy...every right to enjoy her good fortune...every right to bask in the glow of her pregnancy. What right did I have to wish her less joy?
Death had left my children fatherless but my well of self pity was leaving them motherless!
Nobody knows better than me, how short life is...perfect can be snatched away in a minute. Happiness can turn to sadness, in only a second...
I lost my husband but I shouldn't be robbing my babies of a mother too.
I woke up and washed my face...i creped into Ahmeds old room just as my mother was preparing a bottle to feed Zeyaan.
I took the bottle from her and lifted the baby, wordlessly. My mother looked surprised but she didn't say anything. I sat with Zeyaan as he nestled against me his crying immediately stopped as I placed the bottle at his little rosebud lips.
His eyes were the exact same colour that Imraan's had been, I realized as Zeyaan looked up at me. His eyes never left my face as he drank his feed in my arms.
Before I could even burp him, he softly tucked into the nook of my arm and fell asleep.
I looked up to were mummy had been standing, watching us...only to realize she had slowly left without me noticing.
I carried my baby son to the bed and laid down next to him. I glanced at Zehrah sleeping in the cot next to the bed and I fell asleep.
I woke up from the first restfull sleep since the accident. I gazed at my two perfect little babies and realized that, that moment...that single moment, was the most peaceful one, I had had, in weeks.
It was almost perfect....almost, but not quite.
this sadness will always hang at the edge some where...but it doesn't have to consume me. It tinges my life and thoughts, but it cannot cripple me.
I am no longer Imraan's wife...but I am Zehrah and Zeyaans mother.
Imraan is no longer here...but I am!
I am all that they have...and I owe it to them to be strong. I owe it to Imraan, to be the best that I can be.
Who else would be able to tell them what an amazing man their father was?
Was...were...had been.
All we have left, are memories.
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