I prayed that insha'allah she would be ok, there was nothing I could do for her at this moment. As a man I had no idea how hard it was to wear the khimar and to feel so different from those around me, it wasnt something I had to deal with. Allah had bought me into my wifes life for some reason and it was our fate that Zara would see life without total Islam, that was something we had to deal with.
Sometimes I was shocked at how strange it felt walking next to her with her head uncovered. I noticed noone staring extra hard, why would they? They didnt know she used to cover it! It was during these walks that I started to truly reach out and understand my daughter, yes hijab was in the Quran for men and women but it was still something that people chose. Yes we know there are consequences but there is no compulsion in Islam, thats what I was always raised with by my parents.
As Zara walked around the streets on errands that needed to be done, I watched as she composed herself, how she talked to people, helped the old lady with her shopping, I listened as she was praised by numerous people while she stood blushing looking to the floor. After Zara took off her scarf I began to see the person the scarf had made her, maybe this is why I couldnt understand why she had decided to take it off. I asked her once this in the line of a question, her answer? 'the scarf didnt make me this person, it just hid it from everyone else. From a muslim it was expected, so hidden and from a non muslim the scarf wasnt looked past' My child has grown into such a caring woman alhamdulillah
Maybe that was why the colour change was such a shock to me. It wasnt the woman I had come to know over the last few months, that woman didnt need the shock factor. That scared me, I had never pretended to know Zara, now I thought that I was beginning to and for that I was grateful. However, now I was back to not knowing her again.
I lowered my head as I pulled on my coat and reached for the door to escape my thoughts and the tensions in the house. I closed the door to the soft weeping of my wife in the kitchen.
