Funny thing, love.
Ever since I met Misbahji, whenever I leave for work or travel, she never fails to come down with me to see me off. And once we get into the lift, she hugs me.
I used to be very awkward with this PDA. Don’t get me wrong. I’m no prude. It’s just that this happens every single time. And I’d always wonder what the security guard on CCTV must think. Probably that this uncle-aunty are a bit… intense.
So, I’ve always been slightly confused. Until today.
This morning, after the usual hug, I saw her blow gently in my direction as we parted. And that’s when it hit me. She was praying. For me. For my safety. Quietly. On the sly. Because she knows how I mock faith.
And now I don’t know what to say.
What did I ever do to deserve this love?
As an atheist, I’m thoroughly gobsmacked.
If I were a believer, I’d say this is god sneaking a blessing past my defences. But I’m not. So I’ll just say this: whatever this is, it’s better than any god I’ve ever been offered.
And I suppose that’s what makes us all human. We leave home every day, in flights, in cabs, with laptops and deadlines, and someone stays back hoping we return in one piece. Whether it’s said aloud, whispered in prayer, or tucked inside a gesture, that love travels with us. Even if we don’t always notice.
Especially now, when the world feels more brittle than ever, when headlines bleed, and life keeps reminding us how short and unpredictable it really is. Maybe this quiet, stubborn kind of love is all that stands between us and the void.
Photo unrelated from yesterday evening, which we (Misbahji, Maryam, her 13-year-old, Kymaia, my 10-year-old, and I) spent laughing like lunatics because I was being an idiot (I was demonstrating to them the Ministry of Silly Walks), the weather was showing off, and everyone (except me) was doing art. I was drinking. Maybe I should drink more often.
