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We All Smelled Like Cigarettes Anyway
Growing Up Around Smokers in Indonesia There are certain smells that instantly transport you back to childhood. Fresh rain. Old books. Fried noodles from a roadside stall. Cajuput oil. And then there is cigarette smoke. Not because I wanted to remember it. It was simply… everywhere. Growing up in Indonesia in the 1980s and 1990s, I don’t remember anyone asking whether smoking was allowed. There was always somebody smoking—a father, an uncle, the neighbour, the man waiting for the bus, a wedding guest, someone at the family gathering, or a stranger in a restaurant. Sometimes I think even the ashtrays had ashtrays. My own father smoked. Some of my friends…
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Laughter, Lunch, and the Last Hour of Jumu’ah
Yesterday was one of those days that left me physically tired but emotionally full. The gathering began at 3 p.m. on a Friday. To be honest, I wasn’t in the best place emotionally before everyone arrived. There were things weighing on my heart, and for a moment I wondered whether I would have the energy to host at all. To make matters worse, my Temu order hadn’t arrived in time. The decorations I had planned weren’t there, and some of the games I’d prepared had to be skipped altogether. A few years ago, I probably would have felt disappointed. Yesterday, I learned that none of it really mattered. Because the…
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After Allah Answers the Du’a
There was a time when every du’a felt urgent. I prayed for healthy children. I prayed for enough money to pay the bills on time. I prayed for difficult conversations to soften, and for illnesses to pass. I prayed for Allah to simply make life a little lighter, as though my heart was constantly leaning against a heavy door, trying to hold it shut. My prayers in those seasons were raw, frequent, and fueled by a deep, instinctive awareness that I had absolutely nowhere else to turn. Looking back now, I can see that Allah answered so many of those prayers. Not all at once, and perhaps not always in…
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Faith Is Also Built on Ordinary Tuesdays
I think when I was younger, I imagined faith would feel more cinematic than it actually does. I imagined spiritually strong people as calm and refreshed all the time. People who prayed every salah with perfect focus. People who read Quran peacefully for long stretches without interruption. People who woke up for tahajjud with glowing skin and emotional stability. I thought closeness to Allah would feel quiet and uninterrupted. But adulthood, especially motherhood, feels very different from that. On a Tuesday morning in Sharjah, faith sometimes looks like searching frantically for one specific white school sock while the clock is ticking and we should have left the house five minutes…
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Rewatching Titanic as a Grown Muslim Woman
Around 10:00 PM, the house is finally quiet. My kids sleep early (Alhamdulillah), so by then, the noise of the day—voices, footsteps, little arguments—has softened into stillness. I sit with my laptop, the glow of the screen lighting up the room, and decide to watch Titanic again. I remember watching it twice in the cinema back in the 90s. Back then, it was everything. And yes… I had a huge crush on Leonardo DiCaprio. Watching it now? He’s… very meh And that alone tells me how much has changed. I’m not watching it as a girl dreaming of escape anymore. I’m watching it as a wife of twenty years. A…
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The Lockdown Chronicles (Part 3): The Lonely Hallway and the Chorus of Cries
The adrenaline of a home birth makes you feel invincible—until it wears off. Then, reality hits. Heavy. Sudden. Cold. After that surreal car ride—with my newborn in towels and my eldest son holding the placenta in a bucket—we reached the Emergency Room. I was wheeled through sliding doors into a world that felt alien. Everything was masked and sterile. The silence wasn’t peaceful; it was tense. The Separation Almost immediately, the doctors found my baby’s blood sugar was low. Before I could even process that he was finally here, he was gone. Straight to the NICU. My own body began to buckle under the trauma. My blood pressure spiked, and…
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The Lockdown Chronicles (Part 2): Six Computers and a Car Ride
If you ask me what it was like to be pregnant during the peak of 2020… I have to be honest. I don’t really remember it. Not clearly, anyway. The months blur together into one long, exhausting hum. When you are managing an indoor plastic playground, rationing eggs, worrying about family across the ocean, and trying to keep eight children sane during a lockdown—your brain simply switches into survival mode. There was no sitting quietly, holding my belly, or journaling about the pregnancy. My body was just… doing its job. It was quietly growing a life, while everything else around me felt loud, frantic, and overwhelming. The Madrasati Chaos By…
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The Lockdown Chronicles (Part 1): “Shollu Fi Rihalikum” and the Great Egg Hunt
In late 2019, as whispers of a strange new virus started making the news, I was busy doing something I had waited years to do: I was relearning how to drive in Saudi Arabia. By December, I had passed my test. By early January 2020, I was holding my official driver’s license. I felt a surge of freedom. The open roads of Riyadh were finally mine. And then, just a few weeks later, the entire world stopped. Lockdown. My brand new driver’s license stayed tucked in my wallet, useless. Malls closed. Parks closed. The roads I was so excited to drive on were suddenly empty, heavily guarded by police checkpoints.…
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From Surabaya to Riyadh: The Barakah of the Empty Hours
Foreshadowing of a Future Sixteen years before I ever called the UAE my home, I sat in the Dubai airport for a transit flight. I didn’t know it then, but sitting in that terminal was a quiet foreshadowing of my future. I was just a young girl leaving the lush familiarity of Surabaya, Indonesia, bound for Saudi Arabia. I was making Hijrah.Following a man. And honestly… I was terrified. The Sea of Black and the Souq I arrived in Riyadh in March. The weather was mild, almost gentle—completely hiding the fierce desert summer waiting ahead. But while the weather was soft, the culture shock was not. I remember walking into…
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My LinkedIn Profile and the “Chief Justice of Book Disputes”
Today, I opened LinkedIn. Just a casual scroll. Big mistake. One by one, the profiles of old friends started appearing. And Allahumma barik, they are doing well. Very well. “Senior Strategy Manager.” “Head of Global Operations.” “Director of Innovation.” I saw promotions, high-level achievements, and photos of keynote speeches at conferences. There were big corporate words I don’t even fully understand anymore. And then, there was me. The Identity Gap My profile hasn’t had a title update in years. There is no career ladder here—just a mountain of laundry and a messy kitchen. For a moment, I felt it: that sharp, cold sting of comparison. What if I had chosen…
