I sat in the car that night, after the blessed day of Eid, and watched you while my heart tore to shreds. You were so pretty, so confident, so relaxed as you strolled across the street while your "boyfriend" casually rested his arm on your shoulder. How I longed to get out of the car, take anything I could get my hands on, and cover you with it, that I might conceal some of what you deemed prudent to reveal and save you from being the object of lustful gazes.
Sure, your jeans fitted well, like a second skin, and your bare shoulders glistened beneath the street lights. No doubt, the effect you had aimed to achieve had been realized, but was Allah pleased with the effect you produced?
That "look" that you spend such a lot of time cultivating — tell me, what will be its end? All of us at last will enter a dark and lonely earth-filled grave, where your body that you spent so much time trying to perfect for the eyes of others will be food for the worms and ants.
The music that blared from the speakers of the car that you had emerged from shook the very earth beneath me, but undoubtedly an earthquake from Allah would have shook the ground even more. Where would that have left us, my dearest sister? Are you ready to meet your Lord?
And then the Adhan rang out. Not one of your friends switched offtheir thumping music. The call, sent to us by Allah since the time of His blessed Prophet, fell on deaf ears that were accustomed to the voice of Shaytan alone.
And I cried as I thought of our Prophet (peace and blessings of Allah upon him) wandering the streets of Ta'if, calling towards the Oneness of God, towards a path that you have been blessed with, without any effort on your part. I cried as I pictured the stones from street urchins hitting his blessed body. Could you imagine yourself to be one of those who cast stones at the beloved of Allah and said to him, "Your way is not for me. Go, for I am at peace with what I have found. My desires reign supreme." Could it be that you are thinking like them — those who drew blood from his blessed body and caused his shoes to stick to his feet because of the excessive blood flowing into them?
I had to stifle the urge to get out of the car, stand in the middle of the street, and shout at all of you to stop! For Allah's sake — stop! My dearest sister, I love you. More than anything, I desire success for you. And what is success? Is it attracting the glance of men who desire you for nothing more than your body? Is it going out and having a "good time"? I would never want to see you suffer. But time has taught me that the path you are on is a slippery one that leads to nothing more than misery.
Once upon a time, I too believed that there was nothing more to life than having "fun." I too reveled in female attention that gave me a sense of self-worth — until I found purpose.
"What is purpose?" you ask. One word — Allah and following His way. That means leading a life filled with service to mankind and spreading goodness. No amount of male attention is going to fill that emptiness, the void left by not having Allah in your life.
I will pray for you and keep hoping that we will someday be friends inParadise. Ameen. Until then, I'm ready to help you in any way. I am your brother in Islam.
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