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Tired Wonder: Beginnings and Endings

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Eric Overby

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“A special Poem Sofia Aur Faraz’ is a very special Poem that I wrote for my brother’s wedding, dedicated to a beautiful couple Sofia and Faraz سم الله الرحمن الرحيم एक नज़र मिली थी कभी, एक नज़र से, वो नज़र अनजान नहीं, कुछ अपनी सी नज़र आई। ख़ुदा का इशारा था, थाम लो हाथ एक दूजे का, आसमां पर बनी यह जोड़ी, दिल से एक आवाज़ आई। सुन्नते रसूल से इस रिश्ते का आगाज़ हुआ है, कितनी मुबारक घड़ी है, दूल्हे का सहरा सजा हुआ है। गवाह बने हैं फ़रिश्ते भी इस दिलकश नज़ारे के, ख़ुदा के फ़ज़ल से यह निकाह मुक़म्मल हुआ है। इन्किसारी हमेशा रहे बन के इस रिश्ते का ताज, उम्र भर साथ निभाने का किया वादा आज। दुआओं की छाव मे हर ख़्वाब करे परवाज़ सोफिया और फ़राज़ अब सदा के लिए हमसफ़र हमराज़। दुल्हन की हया इस रिश्ते का गहना आला हो, दूल्हे की वफ़ाओं ने जिसे अदब से सँभाला हो। गुलों से गुलज़ार रहें रास्ते ज़िंदगी के, हर सुबह, हर शाम राहों में चमकता उजाला हो। नींव रखी है दिलों ने वफ़ा और अहतराम की रंग लाएगी गहरा तासीर इनके नाम की सोफिया की हिक्मत, फ़राज़ की बुलंदी, यह ख़ासियत खूबसूरत घर सजाएगी । इंशाल्लाह ख़ानदान ऐ अंसार में इनकी दास्तां , अपना एक अलग ही मुक़ाम बनाएगीं । नज़र-ए-बद रखे फ़ासले, इस घर की दहलीज़ से, महके कोना-कोना, बरकतों के फूल से। ख़ुदा की रहमत बरसती रहे हर लम्हा, खुशियों से शाद रहे उम्र का हर एक लम्हा। ख़िराजे अक़ीदत पेश करते है तहे दिल से रब का शुक्र अदा करते हैं, इल्तिजा, दुआ, और मन्नतें उसकी बारगाह में यही है सदा खुश रहे, आबाद रहे दूल्हा-दुल्हन, बस एक यही दुआ हम बार-बार करते हैं। रब की रज़ा हुआ इस रिश्ते का आगाज़ सोफिया और फ़राज़ अब सदा के लिए हमसफ़र हमराज़। सोफिया और फ़राज़ अब सदा के लिए हमसफ़र हमराज़।”

“She didn’t have a very clear vision of her future as a married woman. She assumed she would get married one day—she did want kids, after all. She thought. Th ey did look so adorable from far away, if a bit messy. And to a practicing Muslim woman, marriage was sort of a prerequisite to acquiring those. But what that would be like, look like, feel like, she couldn’t really say.”

“She tried not to be judgmental of others. With her family, she couldn’t afford to be. They were a good example of a spectrum of religiosity, with Leedya representing the more liberal end and Maryam holding on firmly to a more conservative outlook. The rest of them fell more or less in the middle. Elizza would give her opinion on matters of religion if asked, but never felt comfortable correcting or imposing it on others.”

“It was often difficult for guests to sort out seating at a mixed wedding. Did the men go find seating with other men? Was each family supposed to find enough places for all their members at a table? Seating was rarely ever assigned at Arab mixed weddings, because you could never expect everyone who showed up to actually RSVP—or for those who RSVP’d to actually show up. Most times, you had to play it by ear.”

“Jana was loved by all the Libyan moms, especially the ones with eligible sons. Elizza was not such a big hit. She got along great with everyone, but the moms looked at her with a sort of disapproval. They couldn’t quite put their finger on what exactly they disapproved of. They just had an instinct that this girl would give their son trouble if he was to marry her, and so they warned each other with subtle looks and some outright rude comments about her, to steer their sons away. They wanted someone haadiya for their sons. Elizza was still trying to tap down the exact Arabic to English translation of that word, but the general idea of it was quiet, shy, obedient. All she knew was, she was not it.”

“Jana needed this in her life. To move on. To have someone value her for who she was. To love and appreciate her, make her the center of his world in the way she was never able to be as the oldest of five sisters. She really hoped that BenAli turned out to be that man, for her sister’s sake. But Elizza wasn’t sure where that would leave her. She longed, too. Longed for someone to truly see her—not her beauty or education or outspokenness or anything else, but to see her. She would do what Allah (SWT) commanded, be her best Muslim self, but she silently prayed for a partner to help her along the journey. Maybe she needed to do something tangible to get there? She woke up to pray tahajjud.”

“Tell me,” she interrupted. “What do you want in a husband exactly?” Elizza gave the question careful consideration for a few moments before replying. “ A good Muslim man who encourages me to do good—” “Kamal is a hafidh,” her mother cut in. Repeating the phrase for the umpteenth time. “—and allows me to grow at my own pace!” Elizza finished. “Someone who supports my goals as if they were his own. Someone considerate of the needs of others. Educated. Good looking. A six pack would be nice,” she ended with a laugh. Her mother swatted her arm.”

“Elizza continued to scroll. It only got worse from there. Bandwagons of other girls, Libyan and non-Libyan, joined the thread with their own comments, so that within twenty or so tweets about the subject, what started out as blatant appreciation of male physical perfection soon downward spiraled into down-right stalking. She had to stop herself after a few minutes of reading—she didn’t think she could handle much more of it. She only knew of one word to describe the sad little thread, if only she could think of it. What is that word the young kids used these days? Oh yeah. Thirsty.”