Samra Apa was busy re-arranging her bedroom furniture. There were tall stacks of books scattered around. All the closet doors were wide open. She was frantically sorting through her stuff when mom entered her room.
“Honey, is it spring cleaning time already?”
“No… my friends are coming over this weekend. Remember I told you?” Samra Apa answered, rummaging through her multiple scarves.
Mom’s forehead creased into a thoughtful frown: “Hmmm. So what does that have to do with all this re-arrangement?”
“Oh, Mom! Erum, the new girl in college, is coming over, too. I have invited her for the first time. Apparently, she is a multi-millionaire. I want everything to look just perfect for her…” Samra Apa continued to rush, stashing all her old stuff under her bed.
Mom silently left the bedroom with a troubled face.
Some time later, Dadi Jan entered Samra Apa’s room, carrying a bowl of scrumptious carrot Halwa. “My, my, after all this hard work, you can do with an energy boost,” said Dadi Jan. The heavenly aroma of the Halwa filled Samra Apa’s pink and white bedroom.
“Oh, Dadi Jan, Jazak Allah Khair! I love your Halwa and I am famished. By the way, can you cook some for my friends this weekend? I want to make the best impression. And your Halwa will rock! … Oh, but what if Erum doesn’t like Halwa? Wait let me first ask her. You know how it is with rich people. They are so fussy about everything.” Samra Apa took a bite of the Halwa, savouring its taste.
Dadi Jan chuckled. “Sure darling. Let me know. By the way, do you know how Aisha’s (rta) room looked like when she was the young bride of our beloved Messenger (sa)?”
“Not really… I don’t think it was too grand though,” Samra Apa answered.
“Aisha (rtaf) belonged to a wealthy family. After her marriage, she lived in a room adjoined to the Masjid-e-Nabvi. Its door opened into the Masjid. The room was barely 7-8 feet long. The walls were made of mud, and the roof was made of palm leaves and branches. A blanket was draped over the roof to protect it from rainwater. The ceiling was so low that a man could touch it only if he extended his arm. The total belongings of the room were a charpoy (bed), a mat, a pillow, two pots to keep flour and dates, a container for holding water, and a bowl.”
Mom joined them and sat on the unkempt bed next to Dadi Jan.
Samra Apa reflected thoughtfully now, slowly finishing off the last of her Halwa.
Dadi Jan continued: “Aisha (rtaf) is known to be the beloved daughter of the first man to embrace Islam and the first caliph of the Ummah: Abu Bakr as-Siddiq (rtam). She was the dearest wife of Prophet Muhammad (sa). She was the only wife in whose presence revelations came to the Messenger (sa) through Angel Jibreel (as). In spite of such a high status, neither she nor others visiting her to benefit from her unique knowledge of Islam ever complained about her humble dwelling.”
Samra Apa protested: “But those were different times, Dadi Jan. People are more materialistic today. They don’t care what your character is like. They only want to befriend those who are cool and loaded with bucks.”
“Oh, this reminds me of what Ali (rtam) mentioned about testing someone for friendship,” added Mom. “He said that a true friend offers you his companionship in misery, protects your honour in your absence, and prays for you after your death.”
Samra Apa stared silently. Dadi Jan and Mom started heading toward the door. “Well, sweetheart, if you need any help, let us know.”
“That won’t be necessary. I liked my previous setting so I’ll put the stuff back,” Samra Apa said as she sprang to her feet. “Oh and Dadi Jan… Halwa is a must on the menu, so please don’t forget it.”
“Sure, darling!” said Dadi Jan, “Delicious Halwa it is for my princess!”
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