Life, Soul & Love

Life, Soul & Love

by Maha
Life, Soul & Love

Life, Soul & Love

by Maha

eBook

$4.99 

Available on Compatible NOOK Devices and the free NOOK Apps.
WANT A NOOK?  Explore Now

Related collections and offers


Overview

The key connectors in all relationships are life, soul, and love. If the soul detaches from life, life ends. And when love departs from the soul, the soul is empty. The soul keeps pain like a prick from a thorn, aching for that love that has departed. Why does the soul feel the pain? Well, because the soul never dies. Once the body dies, then the only thing that remains is the soul. That is the reason why we as human beings have the responsibility of not hurting anyones soul. That is why when we are really in love, we are to connect soul to soul. Love means to give and trust another soul with your heart and to connect and care unconditionally. Some relationships seem very strong because they have these principlestruth, love, and honesty. These principles in a relationship are attractive. And sometimes, when a relationship comes to an end, it catches numerous people by surprise. It is not because they break up for the same principles, but at times, these principles are what are left in the relationships when the feelings fade away. When theres no truth, love, and honesty in the relationship, it weakens. As the wind blows, it blows away everything with it. And once the wind stops blowing, you realize that theres nothing behind.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781482878028
Publisher: Partridge Publishing Africa
Publication date: 06/14/2017
Sold by: Barnes & Noble
Format: eBook
Pages: 214
File size: 216 KB

Read an Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

Sometimes we get disappointed by the events of life, and sometimes our ways of life change, and we wait for someone to meet us on the way. That person never reaches us in time, and we end up changing our direction. That is how we miss each other; but as a person, whether man or woman, it doesn't matter who stood there. When they leave, they leave their scent behind, but their footsteps disappear immediately after they leave so that nobody can follow them. But perceiving their scent and not being able to find them kills our heart. This is no fiction; it is a true story that is hard to face no matter who you are. The spirit inside of our bodies is very peaceful; the desperation and needs of life are within our bodies and not our spirits. Our eyes can see everything, and we expect to have all these material things that are not for us. But we need them because other people have them. Our desires make us desperate, and we do not mind hurting each other just to fulfil our own desires, so we come to a point where we start hurting and hating each other and making another person's life miserable.

I am a woman, and I am never ashamed to say that women are each other's greatest enemy; it is sad to say this because I am a woman. We are not all the same; we all have our different personalities. So, people, don't be upset with me. As I am a writer, I'm thinking that some of my readers might misunderstand what

I am trying to say. Women have a lot of patience and strength; women have a lot of relationships. First, she is a woman, so she has a relationship with herself; she is a wife to her husband, a mother to her children, a daughter to her parents, a sister to her siblings, and a friend to those whom she cares about. Her relationships have different faces in the form of friendship; in between all these relationships, she is an example of a beautiful spring or the scent of a flower that is beautiful and wants to stay fresh from that weather and that scent. She does not know that for her to keep that weather and that scent, she also needs love, care, respect, and friendship. The weather and the scent that she carries in her hand are like a bowl filled with responsibilities, and she is the bridge between all these relationships, and no one can break that bridge. But some women are not aware that they have the ability to make or break all these relationships. The weight of that bowl that is filled with responsibilities is too much for her to carry on her own; she wishes that one day someone will walk into her life and help her carry that bowl. No one shares her pain. This woman is like a light bulb; she is a shining light upon everyone else, yet she is sitting in the dark all by herself. She keeps all the relationships joined together as broken as she is. She keeps asking herself when her days will change, and that day never comes. Just like that, one day she leaves this earth with all her wishes and dreams and all her questions. She says goodbye to this world.

It is not an easy job being a strong and honest woman, but it can be easy if we work jointly with our souls. We will have to make some commitments with our souls — if need be, kill the desires of our hearts, life, and minds around the luxuries of life. Then you will realise that your life will become easy and clear. Most of the time, people ask me how I survive without most of life's necessities. My response to them is that what is important to me is what I have in life. The day that I got out of my marriage, I was filled with pain; my soul was scattered all over, trying to find a way to heal. In that moment, I felt like I wouldn't survive because I had lost everything. I was at my lowest of points, forced to restart my life; then I asked myself, 'What do I do?' Then I remembered my father's words to me: 'You must pray to God and ask him to kill your desires of luxuries. Then this life will become easy for you.' I sat down and asked myself, 'What is important for me?' Then I got an answer from my inner spirit; the answer was that I needed to work to earn an income to provide food, shelter, and education for my son and to also lead a respectful life. What I need is what I have by the grace of God.

What makes us stand abuse from rich husbands? It is because they are able to fulfil our desires of fancy cars, big houses, expensive clothes and jewellery, make-up — all the finer things in life. You know what I did? I looked at myself in the mirror and told myself that I did not need all of that. I will live my life without all those things. I am beautiful. I have legs to walk with, a brain to think with, and hands to work with. I cut everything out and started walking barefoot and finally found myself. From the outside, I'm very poor; but in reality, I'm very rich. Why am I saying that? I gained a lot of love from people who care about me. I'm happy to find myself without luxuries, living a straight life. People respect me, love me, and care for me because they see the real me.

This is not only just my story — a lot of people can relate to it. I have learnt a lot from watching how other people live their lives. I have travelled a lot in my life — city to city, country to country — for my son's freedom and mine. As I watched other people's pain and suffering, it gave me relief when I compared my pain and suffering to theirs. I used to stay in Lahore, Pakistan, where I had my own fashion boutique. A lot of different types of women used to come and go from of my boutique. They all used to have a lot of love for me; back in those days, it was a rare thing for a woman to work or have her own business in a country like Pakistan. I was 19 years of age, a very soft and fragile girl. Everybody was amazed at the fact that I ran a boutique all by myself. I used to design and make the clothes myself. My family helped and supported me in running the business.

CHAPTER 2

There was this woman who used to come to my boutique, Sabiya; she was about 62 years of age. She was very beautiful; she had two sons and a daughter. All her children were married; she lived with her family in the same house. On the outside, she used to look happy and would also engage in interesting conversations. She used to encourage me a lot; she used to tell me that I carry on with the work I'm doing throughout my life so that I can carry my own burden and not have to rely on a man. It is not nice to depend on a man; you end up living an enslaved life. In terms of the culture in Pakistan, what she was telling me was right. Then she stopped coming to my boutique; every day I used to wait for her, and just like that, six months passed without her coming to my boutique. Then one day she came back; she looked very weak and didn't have that freshness in her voice and in her beauty anymore. I was very happy to see her. I asked her where she had gone and why she didn't come visit in the last six months; she started crying, and after a while, she told me that her husband had divorced her and kicked her out of the house. Even her own sons did not help her because they feared their wives and they all lived together in one house; she moved away to her sister in a different city, and her brother-in-law refused to let her stay with them, and then she was homeless.

After hearing her stories, I started crying, and she said to me that we as women do not have our own homes. When we are born, we are visitors in our parents' home, and they wait for us to turn 18. Then we get married and are sent off to our husband's house, and even that is not ours. If our husbands kick us out or die, then we end up at our son's house, and even that is not ours. Eventually, one day we die, and even the grave is not ours because somebody had already been buried there before us. Then she said to me, 'My daughter, you are from a good home and from a well-off family. Can you give me shelter? I'm already very sick.' I immediately fell into deep thought about how I should help her. I told her that I would help her; there was student accommodation above my boutique, so I spoke to the owner and rented a room out, paying the rent for three months plus deposit. That lady started staying there, and then I bought her some minor house appliances and furniture because she had nothing; my parents did not know that I was helping this woman. For three months, I took care of her and made sure that she was all right because she had lost everything that she ever had. She had lost all her strength.

Within those three months, every day at around 11 a.m., she used to bring me a cup of tea and a sandwich. One day she didn't come, and I was very busy, but I made time and went up to her room to see her. I used to have a spare key for her room, and that day, I found her dead in her room. For a while, I kept calling her name, and there was no response; when I tried to move her, I then realised that she was no more. I was frantic and went downstairs to get some help; the people that came to help confirmed that she had passed on. The most hurtful thing to me was that I did not know any of her family members. I did not even know her surname. I found myself in a predicament. I got very stressed because she had become my responsibility, and my parents did not even know that I was helping her. Without my dad's help, I could not do anything, so I called him and told him everything; he got angry at me, but he came to help me shortly after I called him. After hearing the whole story, my father called the area's counsellor so that no police case would be opened, and then we announced her death in the area's mosque so that one of her family members could come and claim her dead body. After a while, her ex-husband came and took her dead body. After looking at that heartless man, I was filled with anger, but my father would not let me say a word.

Just a day before Sabiya passed on, she told me, 'God has created you to help people like us. It is in your heart to feel for those who need. Don't let that ever change.' And that time, I did not even know what it meant to help. Whatever she used to tell me, I did not understand at that time; all her words sounded heavy to me. I only felt her pain at that moment.

CHAPTER 3

My name is Maha; my mother used to tell me about the day I was born. My birth was a bit different from those of other children. It was a Thursday; my mom said that the contractions started the night before; and at around 4 a.m., she then called my grandmother and asked for my brother, her elder son, to call her midwife. Before the midwife could even arrive there, I was born. The difference between me and other children at birth is that I was told I did not cry. Instead, I immediately sucked my thumb. My grandma's prediction was that I would live life on my own terms. Looking back now, my grandmother's prediction was spot on. My life has been different from those of the women I grew up with.

I have seven siblings (seven sisters and one brother). My brother is the last born; his name is Hassan. The first daughter's name is Kahnam; she has five sons and has grandchildren; the second daughter's name is Yasmeen, and she has four children(three girls and one boy), who are all successful. The third daughter's name is Jasmeen, and she has three children (two girls and one boy) and also grandchildren. The fourth daughter's name is Saheen; she is not married yet. She is a nasty character amongst all of us. She took care of the whole family after our parents' death ... the fifth daughter's name is Faryal; she has only one child, a girl. I'm the sixth daughter. The seventh daughter's name is Sonia; she has one child, a boy. He is cute; he's 5 years old. We are all we have; we are so afraid to lose one another, and we love one another. We have issues like all other functional families; where there are no complaints or arguments, then that is not real love. We are a very strong-bonded family; we don't allow anyone to come between us or disturb our peace or our bond. We stand one another's ground no matter what or how far we are from one another or how angry we may be at one another, but no one can dare strike us as we use our wings to protect our unity. I love all my siblings deeply as their baby sister, and I know they love me too.

Naturally, I am an extremely independent woman. I am not the kind of person to wait for a solution. I prefer doing things myself. We lived in a very big house; we had a nanny by the name of Hajara. She did everything but cooking. My father would not allow any other person to cook but my mother. He treated her like a queen, with one exception — she did the cooking. I must say, this was a blessing for us because from watching her cook, we learned every cooking skill.

She helped polish our cooking skills and, of course, the rest of the house chores; her reasons were that we had to be able to do things ourselves when we become wives. Most of the time, she would ask me to finish the house chores for her. This made me complain because I felt I did more than my other sisters. It was as if she knew that my independence would be survived by my hand skills.

I was a quiet, shy child growing up, and I never used to interact with my peers. My hobby growing up was interior designing and gardening. I would take my mother's scarves and build a house from them. I would make tea and invite her over; she would bring her own tea, and that made me cry because I wanted her to have my tea and not hers. I played a lot of the house games; they would seldom irritate my mother. I never knew that in my whole life, I would have no home at all.

I write this story to help other people out there and encourage them that life only ends when God wants it to end and that there is always a light at the end of the tunnel. I do not want pity from anyone as this is my past, and it moulded me to be the woman I am today. My story is to bring light to the darkest of times, for people to read my journey and know that every fall deserves picking up and moving on again. Growing up, I experienced a lot of love from my family and friends — such overwhelming love I could not contain. The love I hardly experienced was the love from my husband. Same with money, I just never had that luck of being spoiled and having men splash money on me before.

I was engaged once before I met my husband; in a short period of just three months of being his fiancée, we broke the engagement off because the truth came out that he was involved with another woman whilst engaged to me. As God would have it, the truth came out, and we had to postpone the wedding date twice. The first time was because his father was ill at the hospital; the second time was because the Muslim month of sorrow was about to start, and as Muslims, we can't get married during that period. We had to wait for all these delays to be over; and finally, when the two families met again to set the date, the truth came out. The girl was brave enough to come herself in the presence of the elders and announce her relationship with my fiancé. After that confrontation, my father wanted nothing to do with that family; no matter how much they begged for another chance, my father stood his ground and said no.

Raze, my husband, saw me for the first time at his sister's wedding; and according to him, he fell in love with me at that particular moment. Talk about love at first sight! I now look back and roll my eyes with sarcasm. He made arrangements with my sister, asking her if she would announce to my parents that he would like to propose to me. At that time in my life, my business was doing very well. I was happy and content with my life. Marriage was the last thing on my mind. My every day just felt complete with happiness and love. Before he went back to United States of America, he paid me a visit at the boutique. I knew him as my sister's friend, so when I saw him, I immediately told him that my sister was not around. He responded by saying that he was in actual fact there to see me and not my sister as I thought. I could see that he had something on his mind that he badly wanted to tell me. He then told me how much he loved me and how he wanted me to be a part of his life. Shocked at the way he approached me concerning the matters of the heart, I immediately reminded him that according to our culture, he could not approach a woman on his own. He should let his parents know, and they would know exactly the right way of doing things. I guess somehow, Mr USA had forgotten his culture. I told him my decision of choosing a husband lay with my parents.

(Continues…)



Excerpted from "Life, Soul & Love"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Maha.
Excerpted by permission of Partridge Africa.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

From the B&N Reads Blog

Customer Reviews