It was a warm summer night. Sweat trickled down our backs as we climbed the stairs to the roof of the two story bungalow. It seemed barren. The boundaries were antique with intricate carving; they were old but sturdy, a witness to all the conversations ever to have occurred in their vicinity. How many boys and girls must have played there, how many arguments must have surfaced, how many deaths grieved. Who knew the secrets this ancient place withheld?

My decision to wear hijab was a quick one. A sudden one. One that could only have been decided for me.

Forgive my trespasses and replace them with good deeds.

Sitting on the prayer mat after Fajr salah, my chirping friends notify me of the arrival of the sun. Just their innocent babble is enriching; uplifting. They peck at the tiny red flowers my mother lovingly planted outside my room.

— Want to know more about this beautiful du’aa? It’s narrated in Bukhari and Muslim, and you can learn more about it here: Ramadan Duaa Series: The Greatest Delight.