When 'nothing' mattters

In the quiet of 1:15 a.m., she stirred from a deep sleep, awakening to the realization that she had missed her salah. There was no flutter of guilt, only a gentle, spreading smile as she acknowledged the lapse. The room was dark, the world outside silent, but inside her, a warm light seemed to flicker to life.

She wrapped her arms around herself, embracing the serenity that filled her. It was unusual, this feeling, as if missing her prayer had opened a small, unexpected window to her soul. She wondered, with a soft chuckle, if this was a nudge from the Divine, a reminder of His presence in even her forgetfulness.

Days rolled by, and the moment stayed with her, like a sweet melody lingering long after the song had ended. She began to see her daily rituals, her prayers, not just as duties but as conversations with a friend who knew her silently, profoundly. This friend didn’t need grand gestures of faith; even in her oversights, there was a communion, an unspoken understanding that filled her with an inexplicable 'hoo'—the essence, the present and pervasive existence of her Creator in the simplest parts of her life.

One morning, the sun streamed brightly into her study, casting playful shadows among the heaps of green plants and the artistically arranged book racks that surrounded her. Dressed in a black salwar kurta, she sat there, a content smile playing on her lips. The books, the plants, the light, all seemed to partake in this silent, sacred dialogue she now recognized she was always a part of. With each missed or made prayer, the dialogue deepened, danced with a rhythm only she could hear, and in that dance, she found a joyous, overwhelming gratitude.