tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61976537928312111002024-02-19T22:16:57.415-08:00Islamic RomanceLove the Creator of love as your center of everything and true love will grow in your heart...Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-12606291230933465312013-03-19T07:53:00.000-07:002013-03-19T07:59:55.703-07:00Farewell My Dear Friend<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibRwdYvEKnEs7MzIM7YUxjsIFxW1Vx9Q1756pQMGNUU9oqUxUVA7f_52MJArU2WnSLDAp_sFD8405uSGsoh5h0DeHk7Wsw66_jwfpaqoJ54ohEzOt_Y4tIxX64mLWdLgJ3n2mZ7xypb-cG/s1600/pusara.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibRwdYvEKnEs7MzIM7YUxjsIFxW1Vx9Q1756pQMGNUU9oqUxUVA7f_52MJArU2WnSLDAp_sFD8405uSGsoh5h0DeHk7Wsw66_jwfpaqoJ54ohEzOt_Y4tIxX64mLWdLgJ3n2mZ7xypb-cG/s200/pusara.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">God’s
decree surpasses all human’s planning. Thus, many times your life takes a
sudden turning without forewarning. Death is one of His many decrees that
nobody can predict. </span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">What
do you do when death summons someone you love? Your life suddenly changes. You
turn to your left. You turn to your right. Everyone and everything do not
interest you. Your body feels so light, almost like you are floating. You do
not feel the ground beneath your feet. You feel a little confused. Your mind does
not want to think. It stops at that one thought – has that person really gone
and never coming back? Your brain does not want to process this piece of
information. You get stuck in that hollow space and time stands still. Even
walking in a crowded place, you just do not feel a thing. Total shock engulfs
you. Then, a voice in your heart speaks, “That person did not leave, but only
returned to the Creator.” Your Imaan wakes you up. You remember. Every living
being belongs to Allah…body and soul. Innalillahi wainna ilaihi roji’un…indeed
to Allah we belong and to Him we return. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">La
hawla wala quwwata illa billahi…there is neither power nor ability save by
Allah<span style="color: black;">. </span>You start to feel the surrounding. Your
brain has finally registered the loss. You have finally accepted the death.
Learn to live with it. Redha. A string of events you last shared with that person
floods your mind. Tears have arrived and perhaps they will stay with you for
some time. You cry, cry and cry. You are not alone. Allah is with you. Cry and
let the person go. Let him or her go with absolute sincerity – ikhlas. Allah
will never leave you alone for He loves you more than you know.<span style="color: black;"></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">Tears
become your companion. Islam says three days only to grieve but do tears know
when to stop? No matter how hard you hold them in, they will fill your eyes…
blocking your sight. Relenting, you close your eyes to let all the tears stream
down. They flow from both corners of your eyes warming your cheeks. At no
prescribed time, no prescribed place, the smallest thing can trigger your mind
to that person. Your brain automatically retrieves pieces of your shared
moments with him or her. Again, you cry. Remember! You are not alone. Allah is
with you for always. Turn to Him.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">Being
a Muslim, part of our faith is to believe that a Believer is never let to live
his or her life without tests from Allah. Redha and sabr are the pills to take
at times like this. You need loads of them to persevere. Keep yourself close to
Allah and ask for strength from Him to proceed with your life. No matter how
hard it is for you, your life must go on.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">How
do you cope with living without someone whom Allah has sent into your life to
act as a pillar of hope, giving you moral support in things you do? Someone who
has been there for you all this while? Someone who said to you, “I’m so blessed
to have you as my friend”? To others, the world is short of one person now.
But, that person is more than a part that completes the whole. Allah knows
what’s in your heart. He knows your pain. He knows the loss you feel. Allah
brings two hearts together to show his Greatness. He is the One that makes that
person touch your life. Allah loaned this person to you and He has taken that
person back. He owns you and that person. Thank Allah. Say ‘alhamdulillah’ for
the blessing of knowing that person, even for a short time.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">Be
strong. Do not drown yourself in sadness. Fight to live! Take the Quran. Read,
read and read. Keep it close to you. Remember you still have to complete this
long journey. Please Allah and have faith in Him.
Obey Him. Do not displease Him. Seek His help to live with Imaan and be
steadfast until He calls you to return to Him. Always say this du’a: </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">Allahummakhtim lana bi husnil khotimah! </span><br />
<br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">One
who yearns to meet Allah, Allah yearns to meet him or her. Keep the moments you
have shared with that person, the good and the bad. The moments that made you
laugh with him, angry at him, cry because of him, smile at his silly acts,
worry for his well-being or scared for his life. Remember not to live in those
moments now. They are your past with him. The past that Allah has bestowed upon
you. Those past moments are for kept. May Allah reunite you with your loved
ones in Jannah. Aameen, ya Rabb al ‘alamin.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">To my
dear sahabah (r.a), thank you for that final moment, visiting me with Allah’s
permission. Alhamdulillah! Allah made me understand it later that you actually came. I will
forever remember that precious moment. I will never see you again in this life.
Insha Allah, Allah will allow us to meet again in the next life just like He
did when He placed us in a true friendship for more than a year. Rest in peace my dear sahabah. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">“O’
Allah, forgive my sahabah. Make him among the guided ones, raise his rank among
those who are rightly guided, and be the Caretaker of his grieving loved
ones. O’ Sustainer of the universe, forgive us and him and make his grave
spacious for him and grant him light in it.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="font-size: 16.0pt;">Aameen!</span></div>
Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-57439445453549388282011-06-27T23:58:00.000-07:002012-04-23T05:03:20.515-07:00Journey of a Gift - Chapter 1<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
Chapter One</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The peaceful azure blue sky set a
magnificent backdrop to the vast open sea embracing the scenic Batu Buruk beach.
The beginning of sunset in the west flickering beautiful reddish flames and the
graceful strokes of evening breeze completed the magnificent canvas. Far away,
a lonely ship was sailing. Birds flying home harbored the few people resting on
it. Soothing music of nature, orchestrated by the rhythmic sea waves, was entertaining
the people on the shore. They scattered all around the famous and most visited beach
in Kuala Terengganu. Some were indulging the gentle caress of the sea water
while the majority was occupying themselves with some activities on the white
sandy beach. Voices of people talking, shouting, laughing and even crying
blended well with the waves. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Visitors around the park, located right
across the road facing the beach, seemed in no hurry to leave the recreational
area. Children’s talks and laughs encompassed the playground. Small chats among
adults and adorable fights between pairs of little kids were music to the ears.
Even toddlers in strollers seemed excited by the sounds in the park, thus
stealing looks at their older siblings around the playground. It was another
weekend that captured harmonious vibes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Not far from the cycling path in
the park, among the crowd of visitors, a thirty-year-old man was examining the
back wheel of his bicycle. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Not again!” Sighing, Harith rubbed
his forehead. Pushing the bicycle to the ground, he wondered how to fix it.
Suddenly he remembered Adam, his nephew. Suhana, his younger sister who lived
and worked in Kedah, had left her son at their grandparents’ home to accompany
her husband on a three-day business trip to Bali. He quickly scanned the playground and smiled when
he spotted the boy happily climbing the ladder of a slide. Harith’s attention returned
to the bicycle. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
He had the bicycle modified for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">her</i> so she could cycle in the park. He had
taken off the white rattan basket attached on the front wheel. It had stayed on
his study desk for the past two years. “Why are you being like this, bicycle?
Is it because you’re not really mine?” He was mumbling the words when he felt
someone was staring at him. Turning to his left he met a beautiful little girl.
She looked almost like a doll – a bit messy brunette curly shoulder length
hair, very fair skin with chubby cheeks and round dark brown eyes. Her pink
jumpsuit, yellow t-shirt and white sneakers completed her doll-like appearance.
She could be about Adam’s age he thought. The little girl smiled at him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“You have a flat wheel, uncle?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Yup, sweetie and I can’t fix it.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“I can help you.” She ran to a car,
parked under a shady tree. Harith saw the little girl talking to a man. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Probably her</i> <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">father</i>, he thought. She pointed to Harith. He smiled and waved at
them. Carrying a bicycle pump, the man and the little girl walked towards
Harith.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“As salaam alaikum. I’m Iskandar, this
chubby little girl’s Daddy.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Wa alaikum salaam. I’m Harith Faisal.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“I’m Jasmine, Daddy.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
A little surprised to hear the
name, Harith smiled at Jasmine. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Of course, you are, my Princess
Jasmine!” Iskandar touched her small nose and turned to Harith. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Hi, there, Jasmine. Thank you for
your help, sweetie.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Jasmine said you’ve got problem
with the wheel. Hope this helps.” He handed Harith the pump.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Thanks.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
Jasmine ran to the slide and made small
talk with Adam. Harith began working on the wheel.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Do you come here a lot, Mr. Iskandar?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Quite often. Jasmine loves it
here. Her mother used to like this place too…” He paused remembering something.
“…today is her seventh birthday and she wanted to come here. Please join us
later. Her Grandma packed us with enough food to feed five people…even the
birthday cake!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
“Alhamdulillah! Thanks for the food
and drinks. Adam really enjoyed the cake and the fried noodles with the fish
crackers. Also thanks for the pump.” The men looked at Adam and Jasmine who
were finishing their drinks. “I guess we’d better get going.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Really nice meeting the two of you
here, Mr. Harith.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Same here, Mr. Iskandar.
InshaAllah, we’ll meet again.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“InshaAllah.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Harith and Adam cycled to the car
park. Harith’s cell phone rang. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Yes, Grandma. Yes, we’ll be home
in ten minutes, inshaAllah.” He sensed from his grandmother’s urgent voice that
something was up with his grandfather. </div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<b><span style="font-size: 18pt;">~</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
The double storey house – a fusion
of modern and traditional architectural designs – was quiet when Harith reached
the front door. The living room was empty. His grandparents must be at the nearby
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">masjid</i> for <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Maghrib </i>prayer. Adam ran to his room. A maid in her fifties appeared
from the dining room and confirmed his grandparents’ whereabouts. Harith hurried
to join the early evening congregational prayer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
It was around nine when Harith returned
home. He heard Adam talking with his great grandmother. He walked to the
direction of the voice. His nephew was narrating the meeting at the park. Seeing
Harith, Hajjah Maryam signaled her grandson to go to the study. “I’ll join you
in a minute, dear.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
An old man in his seventies was
sitting at a big study desk, reading a<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">
tafseer</i>. After giving <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">salaam</i>,
Harith took a seat at the sofa opposite the desk. Haji Mustapha came to join his
grandson. Harith thought it was a little strange for his grandfather to sit
across from him at the sofa set. The door opened and his grandmother entered
with ginger tea for the three of them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
Sitting beside her husband, Hajjah
Maryam looked at her grandson. A mix of sad and happy expressions appeared on
her face. Harith felt a little awkward, almost disturbed, as he sensed a little
tension in the air, yet keeping himself composed to what was about to take
place. The three of them rarely gathered in that room. It was usually him
meeting his grandfather to discuss matters about work at the office or their
batik factory.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Right after you left for the beach,
your Pak Tua called …and told us everything. Obviously she calculated the time
before leaving. Today was the day and we were told the truth.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“She? The truth?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Jasmine...” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
Harith’s jaw dropped. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“…and what really happened on that
wedding day.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
Hajjah Maryam nodded reaffirming
her husband’s words.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
Harith recalled the last meeting with
Jasmine in KB almost two years ago. She did not tell him the reason for leaving
before the wedding and he did not force her to. For a moment, Harith was
speechless. Meeting little Jasmine earlier reminded him of <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">his</i> Jasmine as well as his long lost mother. All the way driving
home, he recalled the time spent with Jasmine at the park.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
Looking straight into Harith’s
eyes, his grandfather continued. “I want you to be honest with me, Harith. I
know for many years I wasn’t the kind of grandfather you wanted to have. I had
my reasons and some you’ve already known. Some are wise to be kept secret for
the betterment of our family. But, when Jasmine came into our family, you and I…we
opened a new chapter of our relationship. That, I will forever be grateful to
her.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
Harith took in every word uttered
by Haji Mustapha. Nothing new to his ears. The past two years, his relationship
with his grandfather had indeed improved. What was the truth? The true reason
why she had left? Jasmine’s name suddenly cropped up. No one had mentioned the
name for the past one year and a half. He believed the family wanted to spare
him the agony of what went down almost two years ago. Or perhaps, they had
decided to forget the name. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Before I tell you the truth your
Pak Tua told me…why she left, I want to hear all about you and Jasmine.” The
old man’s voice became less commanding than usual.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
Moments earlier, he had guessed
from his grandmother’s face that his grandfather had another tip regarding him
searching for his mother yet again. For years he had been secretly searching
for her ever since he began working in the family’s batik business. That was about
seven years ago. He always saved one third amount of his monthly salary to use purposely
for that. He was a little distracted during Jasmine’s stay, but never stopped
entirely. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
As for Jasmine, she vanished into
thin air about two years ago. Just like his mother did. He had tried contacting
her at her home, but gave it a rest when his effort was fruitless. Of the two
women, he decided to pursue looking for his mother. He missed Jasmine still but
kept telling himself that his life would only be complete after he had found
his mother. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Dear, what we’ve learned today has
changed what we believed was true…that she never left only to save herself.
Perhaps you have guessed that.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
Hajjah Maryam’s voice brought
Harith back from his musing. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Jasmine left
but clearly she had made a deal with Pak Tua.</i> “So, what did Pak Tua say? No,
no…exactly what did Jasmine say?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Before we go into that, tell us
everything…do not leave a single thing out, dear…about you and Jasmine…from
your first meeting with her and all that happened between the two of you until
the day she left…on that wedding day two years ago.” Hajjah Maryam’s voice was
gentle yet encouraging.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“You two had some kind of a
partnership and both were…I would say still trustful to one another or the
partnership itself. What I don’t understand is how come you don’t even know
where she is now?” his grandfather added.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
<i>First
the meeting with that little Jasmine in the park and now this!</i> The thought
ran through his head. There was still a half month before the two-year time
completed. Only then he had promised himself to seek for Jasmine again. He
still could not figure out why she needed the two years. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
Harith hesitated for a little while
but realized no harms in telling his grandparents everything. They had known
much about him and Jasmine. Losing Jasmine did change the family in some
positive ways – a blessing in disguise. Even his relationship with his
grandfather had become as normal as it should have been since. But, it never
justified losing her in his life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“Harith…” called his grandmother
after his long pause.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0.5in;">
“We met in a flight…”</div>Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-82315556139049846562011-04-04T10:25:00.000-07:002011-04-04T10:27:20.995-07:00Journey of a GiftHere's my second entry for this year. 'Journey of a Gift' is my latest novel manuscript. InshaAllah, I will be posting some chapters here. I'm hoping to get some comments from readers.Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-20949116237731532582011-01-19T04:42:00.000-08:002011-01-19T05:56:22.104-08:00Friendship is a Gift<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">blessings and peace be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.<br /><br /></span><div style="text-align: left;">Looking back to 2010, alhamdulillah, I met some new friends through "The Gift". They read the novel and wrote to me. A few of them have kept in touch on regular basis. Thus, a friendship was born. I thank Allah for this blessing...<br /><br />In 2010, I lost the presence of two dear friends in my life. Norida was my childhood best friend. We were seven when we met for the first time. We were inseparable during our primary school days. We kept in touch during our teenage years. Careers never really separated us. Allah Ta'ala always had His ways to bring us together from time to time. Then that one night last year, I was awakened from sleep - the news that took me hours to digest. She was no more in my life...I met Dalilah when I was eighteen. She was my roommate at the college - a bubbly and cheerful person. I will always remember her as someone who loved to make others smile and laugh. Her struggle with cancer during the last few years of her life was amazing, subhanAllah. May Allah accept them and may they rest among His beloved servants.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT0evkx3mWop6uAEvmgnJ8i3__B27QjKlPjLyiF-fosYp-gfg1FWe20wedF-pJQlHUngIwrWU4Reeq0rQoJ7jIK9zMjdLGSV2ejJpA8csonZ28N2ldLPQd_-4OD-3EQPj23oNbHhZlmcmS/s1600/3friends.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 189px; height: 179px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiT0evkx3mWop6uAEvmgnJ8i3__B27QjKlPjLyiF-fosYp-gfg1FWe20wedF-pJQlHUngIwrWU4Reeq0rQoJ7jIK9zMjdLGSV2ejJpA8csonZ28N2ldLPQd_-4OD-3EQPj23oNbHhZlmcmS/s320/3friends.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563894339501975970" border="0" /></a><br />Losing these two friends made me think of my favorite character in "The Gift" - Ani - Saleha's bestfriend. Allah Ta'ala gives us countless blessings and friendship is indeed one of them. The sahabahs of Rasulullah...they were jewels in his life. They were among the great people for us to ponder and model after. Friends make our journey in life more meaningful. Thank you Allah for all the friends You have granted me with!<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"></span></div></div>Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-53969945880719190372010-12-08T20:35:00.000-08:002010-12-08T23:21:32.621-08:00The Gift Series<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">blessings and peace be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.</span><br /><br /></div>Latest update - Timeless Gift WILL NOT be published by Telaga Biru Sdn Bhd (TBSB).<br /><br />Click on the picture below to read excerpts from <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">The Gift</span> </span>or leave your comments about the novel.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://islamicromancewriter.blogspot.com/"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 144px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPlYj4NKecJ0CU0Xb7kQOw5SCmf3raMoB5r8OPYGGf7mwLDEn2sapq_q2kAHOOOUteQBF8_9bCgREJRnF9H2HUGn_5fLBtqnF0x8s5RxqjHQ0MuUX16YV_u0QZQR5IbPSJ7_2Axs6GHJiA/s320/CoolViewCover.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548538550785566578" border="0" /></a>Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-28026037669975069202010-10-10T00:22:00.000-07:002010-12-08T16:20:36.697-08:00The Book Depository<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">blessings and peace be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"></span></div><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:verdana;" >Gosh! Have I been MIA for such a long while or what? It's been almost a year :) Sometimes life commitments are as unpredictable as our final meeting with Allah s.w.t. We just do our best striving to stay within the boundaries of Islamic teachings so that we would earn His pleasure. </span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:verdana;" >I've been asked again and again how to buy 'The Gift' online since it is NOT available in any bookstores in Malaysia. Well, you can purchase a copy from The Book Depository (FREE DELIVERY WORLDWIDE). Click </span><a style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold; font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/book/9780979357770/">HERE</a><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:verdana;" >.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 204);font-family:verdana;" >I'm still working on the third manuscript. It's a tough one for me to interweave Islamic romance and suspense with dashes of comedy. As a writer, I'm really learning a lot! I hope to post some excerpts from 'Journey of Love' soon, inshaAllah...<br /><br /><br /></span><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyzxfbAk1LvhckvMN1qgvKZgEJJBk0v60I3wMsgH-MiaDHzyyVckP08U05YVIM962XBe7nIVnycyz0zRUEskA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-53149272504742345902009-12-23T01:06:00.000-08:002010-10-10T05:01:01.462-07:00Third Novel<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">blessings and peace be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.</span><br /></div><br />Time really zooms! Another Hijri year has already begun...soon 2009 will make an exit! Scurrying to complete this and that at Fajr Library, how I wish I had a helper :-)<br /><br />My fingers are itchy to dance on the keyboards typing away another chapter of "Journey of Love" (working title) and new installments for the short stories, including the one I've started on this blog. Another week and a half to go before the finale of 'Holiday English' and the training of SYAZ kindy teachers. Then, inshaAllah, I will resume my writing!<br /><br />Back to the third novel, I'm trying something new in "Journey of Love". Islamic romance is no doubt the essence of it, but I have added elements of mystery and comedy into the storytelling. Let's see how it comes off...but as a writer, I'm pretty excited with this 'experiment'!<br /><br />Happy holidays to all!<br />Wherever you are...may Allah Ta'ala keep you all safe!<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA81jT8FFKzpqaTjX3fG7V8JytGOQ1VtFvJBBHP4r7HsB98_dQTznEMdoi84tX0YL2QqZxJgMT-EDtBsmfdeiJZTzo5xQDCPrU3BduzZmgPELgZUduBsoa3PQq1htr8rIy_u9A9aiSQivI/s1600-h/nice5.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 189px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA81jT8FFKzpqaTjX3fG7V8JytGOQ1VtFvJBBHP4r7HsB98_dQTznEMdoi84tX0YL2QqZxJgMT-EDtBsmfdeiJZTzo5xQDCPrU3BduzZmgPELgZUduBsoa3PQq1htr8rIy_u9A9aiSQivI/s320/nice5.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5418363976804226098" border="0" /></a>Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-59056851248355308172009-08-07T07:58:00.000-07:002010-10-10T05:00:09.012-07:00Online Interview<span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">blessings and peace be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.</span><br /></div><br />Read the online interview by Suzan Abrams at <a href="http://suzan-abrams.blogspot.com/">Kafez Blog</a>!Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-60769915754534091232009-06-26T08:18:00.000-07:002010-10-10T04:59:26.551-07:00The Gift - Book News<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">blessings and peace be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.</span><br /></div><br />Susan Abrams at <a href="http://suzan-abrams.blogspot.com/">Kafez blog</a> wrote about 'The Gift' in her book news article.<br />Read it <a href="http://suzan-abrams.blogspot.com/2009/06/gift-by-malaysias-debut-novelist-zaipah.html">here</a>.Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-1741195030187473802009-06-20T08:59:00.000-07:002010-10-10T04:58:52.964-07:00The Gift - A Book Trailer<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">blessings and peace be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"></span></div><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><br /></span><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/A-Srch9CCeQ&hl=en&fs=1&"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/A-Srch9CCeQ&hl=en&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-30119428266005976742009-06-20T04:32:00.000-07:002010-10-10T04:33:06.938-07:00How Can I Not Love You (con't)<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful;</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">blessings and peace be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.</span><br /></div><br />Lost in her thought, Sameera was startled by the phone ring. Bubble looked up and meowed as if telling her to quickly pick up the phone. "Okay...okay, Bubble! I'm going..."<br />"Hello."<br />"Wa alaykum salaam...Mama?!....I'm fine, alhamdulillah...They left an hour ago... How's everyone at home?...Good, alhamdulillah. Dr. Shukry? Who is he? Oh, I see. When? Okay, I'll let them know. Yes, I will, inshaAllah. Love you, Ma. Salam alaykum."<br /><br />Sameera walked back to the kitchen still wondering about the letter. "Oh, I'd better not get carried away with his little game. I'll ask him soon, inshaAllah. Right now, I need to get all my chores done and finish my work upstairs. Then, you...", she picked Bubble up, "...and I have a date with the vet!" She had promised Maryam two days before to take Bubble for his regular check-up. She sat Bubble near the window and started with her chores.<br /><br />It was nearly 11 A.M when Sameera sat on the couch for a break. Guessing from the time that the meeting was over, she decided to call Maryam to inform her cousin about the call from her mother.<br /><br />"My mom called. We're having a visitor this weekend, inshaAllah." Sameera gave all the details and was about to hang up when Maryam asked her about the letter.<br />"I don't know, Kak Yam. Like I told you before, after the Eid gathering, I met him twice at the park when I was cycling with Johan. He was all by himself. Johan must have told him about our regular park visits."Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-89240015373676353792009-05-22T23:12:00.000-07:002010-10-31T00:19:14.462-07:00Get "The Gift" now!<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful;<br />blessings and peace be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.</span><br /></div><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(255, 102, 102); font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqX4yAuhWMUyZ7nMOYph8V_LYU7k5HnvRVL0ZAlEZEhgx4YXaka1sIQfyw_9jlYEAznaNjHPoCk25f3xn5l4ayFn64p-LdLdJEVx0BfA5x0cJrcFqRkD1latvkHpi9e9qIhLXZo5c4K-qK/s1600/TheGift.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqX4yAuhWMUyZ7nMOYph8V_LYU7k5HnvRVL0ZAlEZEhgx4YXaka1sIQfyw_9jlYEAznaNjHPoCk25f3xn5l4ayFn64p-LdLdJEVx0BfA5x0cJrcFqRkD1latvkHpi9e9qIhLXZo5c4K-qK/s320/TheGift.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5526378369247803218" border="0" /></a><br />The Gift</span> is now in Malaysia! </span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">Email <span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">fajrlib@yahoo.com</span> to order a copy at a special price.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">You can also purchase the novel from:<br /></span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gift-Zaipah-Ibrahim/dp/0979357772/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1243053375&sr=1-1"><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" >Amazon.com</span></a><br /><a style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255); font-family: verdana;" href="http://search.barnesandnoble.com/The-Gift/Zaipah-Ibrahim/e/9780979357770/?itm=1">Barnes and Nobles</a><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);"><a style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255); font-family: verdana;" href="http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/book/9780979357770/">The Book Depository (FREE DELIVERY)</a><br /></span> <span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" ><a href="http://www.islamicbookstore.com/b10563.html">Islamic Bookstore</a><br /></span><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Gift-Zaipah-Ibrahim/dp/0979357772/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1243053375&sr=1-1"><span style="color: rgb(102, 51, 255);font-family:verdana;" ></span><br /></a>Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-19513979056055986192009-04-13T21:52:00.000-07:002010-10-10T04:28:24.707-07:00Pre-released Order of 'The Gift'<span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful; blessings and peace be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.</span><br /><br />To make pre-released order of "<span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">The Gift</span>", kindly email <a href="mailto:fajrlib@yahoo.com">fajrlib@yahoo.com</a> for the price of the novel plus shipping and handling.Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-9485565139961847932009-03-28T21:36:00.000-07:002010-10-10T04:27:21.352-07:00The Gift Series<span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful; blessings and peace be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.</span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />The latest news from </span><a href="http://www.muslimwriterspublishing.com/"><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);font-family:trebuchet ms;" >MWP</span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"> - <em><span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">The Gift</span></em> in being printed at the moment. So, the waiting is almost over. This April, insya Allah, we will have the novel in our hands! This will be the first novel in <em><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 255);">The Gift Series, </span></em>named after the title of this first Islamic romance novel. Email <a href="mailto:fajrlib@yahoo.com">fajrlib@yahoo.com</a> to get your copy!</span>Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-46202803584344110232008-08-05T21:28:00.000-07:002010-10-10T04:26:09.195-07:00How Can I Not Love You<span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful; blessings and peace be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.</span><br /><br />"MashaAllah! It's so beautiful out there!" Sameera sighed as she peeped through the curtain covering the window of her bedroom. It snowed a little the night before and the lawn looked all white. She checked the time on her study table. It was nearly 7.15 AM. She could hear her cousin, Maryam, preparing breakfast in the kitchen. Then the voice of her cousin's husband, Halim, calling their son to hurry for school. Sameera put on her hijab and left her bedroom to join the little family in the kitchen.<br /><br />As she closed the door, she saw little Johan leaving his bedroom and running for the stairs. He almost knocked on his chubby cat, Bubble. The poor cat was waiting outside his room probably waiting for its owner to say goodbye before leaving for school. Johan glanced at the cat, "Oops! Sorry, Bubble. See you later, bye!" Upon seeing Sameera, he added before rushing down the stairs, "...morning Auntie Sam!"<br /><br />"Morning Johan...and you too Bubble!" Sameera picked up the cat. "Today, only you and me at home, huh!" Maryam and Halim had a meeting with some sales reps at 9 AM. The couple was leaving to send Johan to school and get to their bookshop early before the meeting. Since the day was her day off, Sameera had promised her cousin to help with the house chores that morning. It was her third month living with the family since coming to the small town to take a short course at a nearby college. As a free lance journalist she had been to many places in Malaysia. She would have gone abroad as well if not for her parents' request to stay close to home. Being the youngest of three siblings and the only daughter, she did not want to go against them. For this short course they had let her go knowing she would be in good company of her cousin's family who had been living in Carbondale for almost ten years now.<br /><br />"Sam, we've to go now. You're okay with this, right?"<br />"Of course! Don't worry Kak Yam. I have Bubble to accompany me." She grinned at her cousin.<br />"Okay, then. I have to hurry now. You know what to do with the house. Just give me a call if there's anything..."<br />"Sure, I will....you go ahead. Abang Halim and Johan are waiting!" They heard a honk.<br />"Thanks, Sam. Bye. Assalamualaikum!"<br />Sameera was about to close the door when Maryam called her. "Sam, you got another one yesterday. It's on the mantle in the living room. He sure is a persistent type! Bye!"<br /><br />Sameera locked the door and headed for the kitchen to feed Bubble. She sipped her coffee and waited for her toast to be ready. "Hmm, another letter with dried rose petals? What am I going to do with you!"Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-64061625343092622562008-06-17T10:09:00.000-07:002010-10-10T04:24:24.024-07:00A Muslim Writer's Gifts<span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful; blessings and peace be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.</span><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJOveSpoZxTDNk4Rk2wAgBe7WIlVpVCbrxZDt5RmLc3yRswElQr-HkHYtvmFnwo8dz5ZscDTlCtaXXDHM4FpiTU475AxI15GrurfdBeiEeI-SvogGw8Qg62JCw3nNlsM8sYJPQ0nSdrQK/s1600-h/E7i5UHHco1.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212898999587340690" style="float: left; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 95px; height: 108px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVJOveSpoZxTDNk4Rk2wAgBe7WIlVpVCbrxZDt5RmLc3yRswElQr-HkHYtvmFnwo8dz5ZscDTlCtaXXDHM4FpiTU475AxI15GrurfdBeiEeI-SvogGw8Qg62JCw3nNlsM8sYJPQ0nSdrQK/s320/E7i5UHHco1.gif" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Life brings us stories of a lifetime. Each story is a gift wrapped in the colors of emotions and actions we display in our lives. Not all gifts delight the heart but each one of them tells about us and/or the people we meet and share experience with in this life.<br /><br />As a Muslim writer , I hope to share with you the gifts that I have received from<br />Him in the colors of emotions and actions of the people I have met in my life. Each gift is precious to me because He gave it to me. A story I write belongs not to me but to Him. Without ideas inspired by Him through all the experiences in my life, there would never be even one story for me to narrate.Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6197653792831211100.post-15665369819628216842008-06-06T17:32:00.000-07:002010-10-10T04:25:25.842-07:00Islamic Romance?<span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204);">In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful; blessings and peace be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w.</span><br /><br />Is there such a genre? Yes! Even if there isn't one, someone has to start it. Why? Simple! Readers for such genre do exist! <div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5212821349245467698" style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH3dYdzn9gsXjmOAM_7gkSG3vsEetDkI7F4xab-orClWrBwjpcb0yNjzelRJWprjSoR_NvfiVchoohYF4UECaWyd8lWYS8-SFlJA5rNO3Ix8Jf0n6yOjsqzcOX10qUC2LXyWUXaoGY3ffM/s320/ring3.PNG" border="0" /><br /><span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 102);">Love and romance</span>. For as long as romance has been in existence in all sorts of medium, certain romantic or love scenes and plots are unavoidable. In fact, sometimes they are a must for they attract and captivate readers of romance literature. Some Muslim readers crave for romance stories as well. However, in keeping with their faith, they want to skip those scenes and plots since they are not permissible in Islam. Henceforth, the birth of Islamic romance writers...</div>Ms Hamkahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15444907198410242958noreply@blogger.com12