`Steadfastness` (Istiqaamat) "The bride has a very high fever, what should be done?" the bride's mother-in-law said in a state of worry. The bride had arrived home just an hour ago. Forgetting everything else, the groom rushed to take the bride to the hospital. "Oh sister! It's your luck; she had barely stepped in, and the bride brought illness along with her," a woman said while chewing betel nut. "Sister! He is your only son, you should have married him off after careful consideration," another woman said, showing sympathy. "To me, it looks like a matter of black magic. She was perfectly fine when she came home, how did she get a fever all of a sudden?" a woman expressed her suspicion. And this sequence of gossip continued until the bride's return. They returned after two hours; the doctor had administered an IV drip and prescribed some medicines. "Oh sister! If your daughter was sick, did you absolutely have to burden me with her? He is my only son, I had married him off with so many aspirations," the groom's mother was blaming the bride's mother. "Sister! To tell you the truth, even we didn't know about her health; she suddenly caught a fever on the wedding night," the bride's mother offered an explanation, her heart becoming a dwelling place for unknown fears. Then this cycle of fever continued; sometimes it would subside, and sometimes it would rise. "Son! I feel that the bride is under a spell of magic, you should go and leave her back at her home," the groom's mother finally spoke her mind. "Mother! I have performed Nikaah (married) with her, and I have accepted her every joy and pain. What is the use of an acceptance that stays only in joy and distances itself in times of pain?" the groom said, proving his honor and righteousness. "Son! Then get the magic investigated so that it can be broken. You give me one of the bride's shirts, I will get it checked," the groom's mother threw another arrow. "Mother! There is no magic or anything like that. Magic has become a joke; whoever you look at is using magic as a shield for their failures, deprivations, and disappointments. If magic happened with such frequency, it would mean that half of our population is getting magic done on the other half. Is this even possible?" the groom presented a strong argument and left the room. The mother-in-law quietly obtained the bride's shirt herself and sent it for the determination of magic. "Respected lady! There is a very severe spell of magic on your daughter-in-law, and the person who got it done is a close relative of yours," the occultist (Aamil Baba) said the exact same words that he used to say to every customer, otherwise who would come to him. "Baba Ji! Who got it done?" the mother-in-law asked anxiously. "Very close to you, she is right around you, the woman who got this magic done; she has been your enemy from the very beginning," the occultist threw another psychological trap. "Hmph! I understand whose doing this is. No wonder she was walking around with a subtle smile on that night of illness," the mother-in-law brought the malice of her heart to her tongue. "This is a delicate process of four months. You will have to bring the daughter-in-law once every month, and you must also make her drink water blessed with jujube (berry) leaves. Next time, bring a hundred jujube leaves too," the occultist was trapping the customer thoroughly in his web. "Son! Didn't I say that there is magic on the daughter-in-law? And the suspicion is also on our close relative," the mother was very happy while telling this to her son. "Mother! This is slandering someone, and it is a very big sin. This kind of slander is a collection of several major sins—malice, jealousy, hatred, suspicion, backbiting..." the son said something entirely different. "Stop it! Don't lecture me. The daughter-in-law has to be taken once every month, and you have to arrange a hundred jujube leaves," the mother said, announcing her decision. "What? This cannot happen. My wife is my honor, she is my respect; she will not go anywhere, nor do we need any remedy to break a spell. First of all, there is no magic. Even if, hypothetically, there is magic, its remedy is the recitation of the Holy Quran. We already do it, and now we will increase its routine even more. I will tell Zahra too," the groom spoke with firmness of faith. The mother realized that her son was not going to fall for her words. "We all read the Holy Quran, then why is it so?" the mother was also not one to give up easily. "I don't know about the rest, but I certainly have an idea about you. You haven't paid Zakat on your jewelry for ten years. The money you received in inheritance has been fixed by you, and you take monthly interest on it. Mother! Interest (Riba) is a war against Allah Almighty. With Haram (forbidden) wealth in possession, how can barakah (blessings) come into your good deeds?" Saying this, the groom left the room.
