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lilacmuse · 3 months ago

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The Tiny 'Arif and her Unseen Friend

When i was in Arizona in June, i was playing alone with my niece in the living room one day, when she suddenly stood up, walked toward the wall, and said 'salaam alaikum' with a huge smile on her face. She walked back to me, looked deeply into my eyes and said, "the uncle is here," in a soft, reverent tone, as if she were telling me a secret. She then scampered off, giggling and playing with the invisible person for a while. As i watched my niece laugh and play, i wondered who this unseen 'uncle' could be- i knew it wasn't her imagination because i felt the presence too, and something about it felt familiar, safe, and deeply reassuring. I smiled and figured it might be the soul of my brother coming to visit his niece, but i wasn't sure.

Later that evening, my niece and i were in the middle of playing again, and she suddenly stopped and informed me that the uncle was coming. My sister-in-law was in the kitchen, so i looked up and mentioned that my niece had done the same thing earlier in the day, but i didn't know who she was talking about. My sister-in-law mentioned that she's at an age where she might be starting to imagine things and play pretend, so she laughed it off as a cute toddler habit.

A few moments later, my niece repeated that the uncle was coming, so i turned to her and asked her what the uncle's name was, but i couldn't discern her reply. I asked her again and she repeated herself, but i still couldn't understand what she was saying. With tears in her eyes, my sister-in-law looked over and told me that my niece was saying "Imam Mahdi". We exchanged stunned glances for a moment, but i didn't want to startle my niece, so i didn't react. A little while later, she repeated again that the uncle was coming, so i asked her, "when is he coming?" She looked at me intently, smiled with a gleam in her eyes, and said, "inshAllah."

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The next day, we were invited to a little boy's birthday party at a trampoline park. Even though i'd slept well the night before and had been excited to go, i woke up that morning with the worst nausea of my life. I had never felt so nauseous out of the blue before and nothing seemed to help, so i told my brother i'd have to stay home and skip the party. After trying and failing to eat, i felt too weak to stand, so i laid down on my bed and waited for the feeling to pass. As soon as i laid down, a wave of intense drowsiness suddenly overcame me, and i fell asleep. The only other time i'd ever experienced such sudden, intense drowsiness was last October, when i dreamt about the scholar who had passed away.

This time, i had another strange dream: i saw myself walking into the Sunni youth center i attend sometimes, but it was different; it looked like a fusion of the Sunni center and one of the nearby Shi'a centers, as if the two buildings had physically merged. As i walked into the main hall, i looked to the right and noticed several chairs in a special section away from the main stage. On these chairs, there were around a dozen scholars seated, both Shi'a and Sunni. As i scanned their faces, i saw one of my favorite scholars, and my heart immediately felt at ease. I also saw another face that looked vaguely familiar, but couldn't remember who he was or where i'd seen him (i recently realized, after 3 different people mentioned him on the same day, that he was the scholar i'd seen at the wedding in New York last year- it turns out he does a lot of Shi'a-Sunni unity work, so his presence in my dream made perfect sense).

My favorite Sunni scholar was giving a speech, so i sat down and began to listen. The lecture was extremely disjointed and he didn't seem like himself- there was a strange, detached coldness in his energy, as if he were adrift from his own soul. I realized he was reflecting the changes i'd noticed in him earlier in the year. When i had begun attending about two years ago, i had almost felt like i'd found the spiritual home i'd been longing for since the end of my beloved akhlaq class. His lectures were extremely heartfelt, deeply spiritual ruminations about God and the Holy Prophet (pbuh), and he regularly cried out of sincere love for them, which made me respect him immeasurably. I gradually noticed that every time he looked at me, it felt as if our souls knew each other; from the look on his face, i could tell he sensed it too. I'd only experienced that once before in college (that entry is on here somewhere), so i was perplexed. After a while, i came to the conclusion that it was likely because we were on a very similar spiritual wavelength- in a world addicted to rationality and material distractions, we were two souls deeply in search of Divine love; perhaps our hearts could sense that we were seeking the same thing. It's rare for me to experience that kind of spiritual resonance with anyone, so it felt like finding an oasis in the middle of a spiritually barren desert.

Around the beginning of the year, i noticed his energy and rhetoric began changing; his lectures felt increasingly sectarian, and he began staring at me pointedly every time he talked about certain sahaba, who he now mentioned more than the Prophet (pbuh). I shrugged it off; every word of praise i've ever heard about any other companion has only made me fall more deeply in love with Ali ibn Abi Talib (as); my conviction in his wilayah is as unwavering as my belief in the prophethood of Rasulallah (pbuh) and the oneness of God. But he also began telling stories that seemed to cast the Ahlulbayt (as) in a denigrating light- each time, he'd look at me pointedly, as if seeking a reaction. I tried not to take it personally given our differences in aqidah, but i felt sad at the change in his rhetoric and demeanor, and i noticed that he had stopped crying the way he used to- it was as if God had temporarily taken that taufeeq away because he was speaking from a place of ego and hostility, not sincerity. I had faith that he'd find his way back to higher ground- i still believe deeply in his goodness- but i stopped attending for a while because my soul no longer felt at peace there.

In my dream, his rhetoric took a similar turn, so i got up and walked out mid-speech. In an outer lobby area, i saw a group of little girls playing together, so i walked up to them and said salaam with a smile. A group of older women then approached and greeted me- likely the mothers and grandmothers of the girls- and the eldest of them stood out. She had beautifully deep, dark eyes and an ethereal aura, and she began asking me questions about myself. As we spoke, i asked her if, from all her years of living, she could give me some sage advice for my life. She quietly took my hand and led me to a room that looked identical to the prayer room at the Shi'a masjid. She leaned down to a shelf in the middle of the room, picked up a long, beautiful tasbih, and placed it in my hands. The tasbih was unlike any i'd ever seen before; the beads were made of luminous midnight blue glass, and were dappled with tiny golden specks of various sizes all over, as if depicting the night sky. Given my love of astronomy, it felt like it was made for me. I realized the tasbih seemed to have 1000 beads instead of 100, as if it were made for adhkar. She then leaned down again and picked up an unusual copy of the Quran that featured sections on Qur'anic meditations. The Qur'an had an exquisite midnight blue cover dappled with golden constellations, matching the tasbih perfectly. The woman handed it to me, i embraced and thanked her profusely, and we parted ways.

After that, i felt an urge to return to the main hall, so i went back inside and found that while most people had left, all the scholars who had been sitting to the side had now gathered together at the front of the room. At the center of their huddle, an elderly man was singing a beautiful qasida about yearning for Medina and the Prophet (pbuh), and all the other men were weeping profusely. Electrified by the beauty of what i was witnessing, i started weeping, too, overcome by my own longing to see the city of the Prophet. From a distance, i noticed the Sunni scholar sitting off to the side; he was crying, too, and looked as if the ice inside his chest was breaking.

I woke up shortly after, floored by the intensity of the dream. I then realized that my nausea was completely gone, as if i'd never felt sick at all. I checked the time on my phone and laptop; it was 5:31. I was surprised because my brother, sister-in-law, and the kids were supposed to leave for the party at 5:30, but i couldn't hear any signs of them leaving or getting ready to go. I walked by their room on my way downstairs and realized my nieces seemed to still be asleep from their afternoon naps- strange; it was unheard of for them to sleep so long. I went to the kitchen to get some water, then glanced at the time on the appliances: it was 5:30-something, but still no sign of anyone waking. I laid down on the couch for a bit, then went back upstairs.

After a while, i suddenly heard my brother's voice in the hallway and realized everyone was finally awake. I glanced at the time to gauge how late they'd be (unlike me, my brother & SIL are very punctual people mA), but was startled to find that it was now 4:31. I frantically checked my phone and laptop, then rushed down to check the time in the kitchen: 4:31. Noticing i was better, my brother asked me if i wanted to come with them. I realized i now felt fine and had an hour to get dressed, so i said yes. As i rummaged through my clothes, i was still baffled: after the strange dream i'd had, i had somehow gained an hour of time. I'd been reading glitch in the matrix stories featuring time loss for the past decade, but i had never experienced it firsthand... Until now. I told my brother about it and he tried to come up with a logical explanation, but couldn't- it was beyond reason.

Once at the party, we ended up having an absolute blast- if you're wondering whether i put on a pair of ugly orange grippy socks and jumped right alongside my niece: of course i did :) She was absolutely terrified of the trampolines, but they also had a delightful play area with tunnels, slides, and various levels designed for smaller humans. My niece is at an age where her primary love language is slides, so she spent most of her time climbing up and sliding down with me and her baba.

For lunch, they had some nostagic Chuck e Cheese-style pizza that took us back to childhood, along with some halal fried chicken that was greasy and overcooked to the point of being nearly inedible. The thought of throwing away food while children in Gaza and Sudan are actively starving made my heart ache, so i covered the piece of chicken and decided to take it home with me. The entire car ride back, i secretly went through an internal moral panic about the chicken: there was no way anyone would be willing to eat it, so would i have to throw it away? Would God forgive me? How could i even consider that, knowing about the famines and all the children starving to death?

As we pulled up to my brother's house, i heard a loud meowing sound and watched a small shadow dart toward the car. As i opened the door, i realized it was a tiny, incredibly gaunt black-and-white cat, likely less than a year old. He meowed frantically and came rushing toward me, as if he'd been waiting for me. As i assessed the flatness of his belly and the desperation of his voice, i realized he was hungry, possibly starving. Just as i was about to go inside to get some cat food, i remembered the piece of chicken i was holding. After peeling off the overcooked skin, i tore off a few pieces of the meat and tossed them to the cat. He immediately chowed down, demolishing it in seconds. Smiling, i continued to tear off more pieces, throwing them to him bit by bit. As i did this, i thought about all the suffering children again and asked God to accept this act as a sadqah for their safety and liberation. I then asked Him to accept it as a sadqah for the safety and happiness of the 12th Imam, and asked God to hasten the Faraj so he could help the oppressed people of the world and finally give Palestine its freedom.

As my new friend hungrily finished the entire piece of chicken, he strolled up to me as if we'd been best friends for years, and i petted him tenderly as he rubbed his face against my body- never in my life had i met such a friendly cat in the wild. My niece excitedly looked on, occasionally chasing him off with her excitement, but he always returned- it was a magical experience. I then realized, with amusement and relief, that the moral chicken dilemma had been miraculously resolved, and i marveled at the way this tiny cat's rizq had been so clearly written at our doorstep that night- he had come rushing up to me as if he'd been sent by someone.

Before i went to bed that night, my heart was extremely heavy- even though the day had been such a joyful one for us, i read the news about the children and families being burned alive in their tents in Rafah, and the weight of their losses crushed me. I asked God to grant them relief, and prayed for the Faraj again with a greater desperation than ever before. I then spoke to the Imam (atf) directly and apologized for being such a sinful, unworthy follower, and admitted that i felt ashamed to call on him despite my sins, but i was calling anyway because the world needs him. With tears in my eyes, i pleaded with him to come soon to bring peace to humanity, and confessed to him about how hard it's been to see such horrific things happening while being so powerless to stop them.

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The next day, i was in the living room with my SIL and nieces, and we were all playing and talking together. My niece suddenly froze while playing, and excitedly told me that the uncle had come again. She darted off, said salaam, and began playing with him excitedly as my SIL and i looked on in wonder. After a while, my niece returned and tapped me on the shoulder with a merry grin on her face. She looked deep into my eyes and happily told me something, but i couldn't understand. My SIL asked if i wanted her to translate, and i nodded. This was the message my niece had for me: "the uncle said he wants you to give him a huggy and go with him." Smiling softly, i asked, "when?" My niece gazed at me with a soft, knowing smile and simply said "inshAllah".

Upon later reflection, i smiled at how it seemed as if the Imam had responded to me through my niece; as if he were giving me reassurance in response to the heavy things i'd said the night before. I had assumed 'give him a huggy' was my niece's interpretation of whatever affection or kindness he'd expressed, but i remembered something later: earlier in the year, i had taken a beautiful class on Imam Mahdi, and one thing had stood out to me and affected me more deeply than anything else: one of the titles of the Imam is Mudhtar, the one who grieves. As the Wali of our time, the Imam feels the entirety of the world's grief and knows each person's pain intimately. My heart broke when i thought about the weight of that, and i cried when i went home that day- this aspect of the Imam made me feel understood in a way i'd never felt before, but i also felt deeply pained for him. All my life, i'd often struggled with the weight of being able to feel the pain of the world a bit more deeply than most; sometimes, i could look into a person's eyes and accidentally discern their deepest, most buried grief. But i could turn this instinct off sometimes, enjoy my life, and disconnect from the heaviness when it felt like too much. For my Imam, the pain would always be there- he is perpetually conscious of all of it.

Every time i thought about or talked about him in the days following that class, i had just one simple, childish thought, which i occasionally expressed out loud: 'i wish i could just hug him.' I thought about how even the greatest of God's creations have always had a fellow mortal being to comfort and support them; Rasulallah (pbuh) had Lady Khadija (as), Imam Ali (as) had Lady Fatima (as), and they each had a handful of incomparably loyal companions who brought them comfort in this world. Who does the Imam of our time have? I know that there are many people in this world who occasionally meet him, speak with him, etc. But it brings me the deepest pleasure to think that the Imam might also find comfort in visiting innocent, sinless children like my niece; it makes perfect sense. The pure laughter of a loving child can cut through every pain of a world submerged in darkness. ♥

x r

#rz #spilled ink #writing #imam mahdi

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