STORY/FICTION/POEM

The Shepperd

By – Br. Amin

At the end of two years when the number of sheep had grown to one thousand, he returned to his master and fell on his feet. "Now you have learnt what cannot be taught," said the master.

NB. It is interesting to note that the Nabis of Allah Taala (Alayhimus salaam) at some time in their lives, generally before Nubuwwat, tended to sheep, and other such animals.

I’ve kept this story on number one because it’s my daughter’s favorite. You all may already know how Ibrahim (ملَسلا )هيلع was thrown into the fire and he came out of it unharmed as the fire cooled down for him. It’s said in a hadith:

When (Prophet) Ibrahim was thrown into the fire, he said: “Allah (Alone) is sufficient for us, and He is the Best Disposer of affairs.” So did Messenger of Allah Muhammad ( )ﷺwhen he was told: “A great army of the pagans had gathered against him, so fear them” . But this (warning) only increased him, and the Muslims in Faith and they said: “Allah (Alone) is sufficient for us, and He is the Best Disposer of affairs (for us)”. [Bukhari]

Now whenever my daughter is afraid, I remind her to say HasbunAllah like Ibrahim (ملَسلا )هيلع did. It’s a small phrase to teach kids when you tell them the story of Ibrahim (ملَسلا .)هيلع It will help them take control of their fear.

STORY/FICTION/POEM

The Genius Within

By – Anam Hashmi

It was a beautiful day at Heatherville Academy. Kids played around, adults smiled and talked, and it seemed like everyone was content and happy with their own lives. Well, everyone was joyful except me. I had just flunked a math test, again, and was staring at the result unhappily. I glared at Miss Charm, my math teacher, and her icy stare bore right through my eyes. “Sophia, I would like to see you.”. Miss Charm’s icy glare, and then this? This was not a good sign. Some kids snickered; others made sympathetic sounds. I gulped.

This would not be good. I walked over to Miss Charm’s desk and tried to keep my head high in the air. Miss Charm sighed. “Sophia, would you like to take a re-test?” She asked. I tried to smile, but the truth was, learning math was as hard as learning Chinese. And none of it stuck in my head. It was like number soup. As hard as it was, maybe I’d get a higher grade than what I got on my test. I picked up the paper and headed back to my desk. As I had thought, my brain was completely empty about math. I had Picasso’s nothing about math.

I stared at the paper. 25 times 3 equals what? I was so confused. I thought we were doing decimals. Was the question 2.5 times 0.3 or was it 3.0 ? I didn’t know how to multiply decimals. I racked my brain. The first answer I got was 313. I supposed my brain wasn’t really that bad, and handed the test in. Miss Charm looked at it disapprovingly, and I had a feeling it was worse than my first test. Heatherville Academy only had four subjects. History, Science, ELA, and Math. And if you flunked one of them, you flunked ¼ of the academy. I had a feeling I was failing ½ of the academy already. We had no extracurriculars except STEM, and that was just a hobby. I felt like I was letting down my generation, my ancestors.

My younger sister Amelia was a genius completely. My older brother Jacob was a sportster. I was neither of the above. I was the odd one out, the loner, the outsider. I walked outside, feeling as gray as the clouds storming above. Though the sun shined through, I had no reason to be happy. The sun peered at me, weaving through the heavy clouds. “It’s going to rain. I

STORY/FICTION/POEM

The Genius Within

By – Anam Hashmi

better hurry” I thought. I got into my dad’s blue Toyota and put my hands through my messy brown ponytail. Oh, couldn’t the weekend just hurry up?

“How was school, peanut?” I sighed. Did he have to bring that subject up? “Like always, dad. Awful!” I exclaimed bitterly. My dad put a hand on my shoulder. “Math?”. He asked. I swallowed. “Bad. Don’t want to talk about it.”. Home was just more stressful. My mom and dad had a heated up argument about what I least wanted to hear about: me. Me failing math. At the end, I had dinner and went to sleep, thinking of today’s events.

The next morning, everyone was in a rush. Amelia had to go early, Jacob had to go late, and I had to go at well… the normal time. Today was quite an exciting day. In the morning, the loudspeaker announced that there was a new extracurricular activity: Arts. I was excited, but not because I liked art. It was because I got to skip math for today. I dashed to Room 217, and was dazzled by what I saw. Just scribbles, yet they had so much of a meaning. Just paint on a canvas, but with true dedication, curiosity, and creativity as your goal. With all these thoughts, I felt lifted high. Not because I was good at art. I doubted it, since I was practically good at nothing. But when the blank canvas was set in front of me, I felt as if… I could paint out my worries.

My art teacher, Ms. Tripod, was wearing a red satin dress with a chain belt. Her earrings were long, wiry, and twisted, and they seemed to portray art. Everything about her seemed artsy. Her boots were long and curved. Her dress was unnaturally shaped. Everything about her sparked curiosity in the minds of her students, especially me. I was amazed by her grace, her steadiness, her humor. But before I had a chance to compliment all I liked about her, she declared the important announcement. “Whoever has the best painting in this class shall go to that painting nationals!”