After completing the last touches, I sat down on a cushioned straight back chair, with coffee in hand, analysing the work I had finally done. The room now dazzled with displays, reds, oranges, purples, yellows and blues. And everywhere the colour brought life and comfort to my classroom. It had been splashed with colour before, but suddenly, with the addition of my personal touch, ‘the’ classroom had become ‘my’ classroom. A place where I could now feel at home, and hence teach with more ease and clarity. I understood where I wanted things to go, and had created an ambiance of colour that suited my needs as a teacher, as well as directly relating to the learning needs of my children. A smile lit up my face despite the feeling of absolute fatigue in my bones. My body was exhausted, but my mind was more alert than ever. I was finally happy, for my efforts had paid off, and though I would only be in this classroom for the rest of the academic year, I could now spend it in a secure and joyful environment with a décor that best represented me.
It was with these thoughts, that my mind suddenly carried to something far more relevant. A time in my life where deciding the décor of my surroundings would have to be far deeper grounded than this. An environment that would require such detailed planning and architectural genius in order to provide the most creative and comfortable of environments.
As I contemplated this room, and its bare walls, I felt the jolt of reality hit me. I sat upright in my chair, splashing the coffee over my work jilbaab and gasped. Subhan’Allah! What a thought! I who found living or working in any environment so difficult, if it wasn’t suited to my needs. I who struggled living within an environment that didn’t represent me, concentrating in a room that distracted me because I felt uncomfortable. How would I feel when I would have to move to this new, unknown place?
As I thought about my own needs, I suddenly realised how it wasn’t just me that felt this way. Most people wanted to create an environment for themselves where they felt comfortable. Why then did we not instantly feel at home in a hotel room? Why did we always feel awkward in someone else’s home? In a friend’s room? The answer, as I pondered, became clear. It was simply because we all wanted to create an atmosphere where we felt at home – a place that we could be ourselves, express ourselves and be happy and content with who we were. So what of the grave?!
This question was soon so deeply engrained in my mind, that I struggled with the wave of guilt that spread throughout me. I had spent days and nights, sleepless hours, thinking, planning, and then finally decorating and creating a perfect ambiance of colour, and contentment in my classroom, but what amount of time and effort had I actually put into decorating my grave? How many hours of toil and trouble, had I actually put myself through in order to get hold of bits of furnishings, display papers, and laminating sheets to leave my classroom looking as splendid as it was? How long had I then spent on worshipping Allah swt? In all my toil for my classroom, how many hours had I actually spent concentrating on my ibaadah and remembering Allah swt with sincere devotion, instead of thinking about my décor ideas?
For indeed, I suddenly realised, indeed, the only resources I could ever get hold of to décor the plain walls of my grave, were the actual essence of the ibaadah, the sincerest worship of my Lord swt. The realisation that I had in actual fact spent so much time, effort and money, on a temporary environment, now seemed completely wasted. How could I live with the guilt of knowing that I had intentionally given so much time to my temporary classroom, and yet neglected so many of the duties that would have in fact beautified the interiors of my grave. Was the compromise really worth it? I didn’t even understand the sense in asking myself that question, for indeed no amount of justification would take away the deep feeling of guilt that penetrated and permeated my heart and perhaps more importantly my soul.
It was a time of clear and sincere reflection for me. I had to take hold of my life at present if I wanted to achieve success in the hereafter. I had to work hard now, in order to collect possessions and treasures for my barzakh, beautiful lights to enlighten my grave, and trinkets to put on the walls. I had to worship my Rabb swt and glorify Him if I wanted to be blessed with fresh breezes from Jannah. For indeed, it would only be through perfect dedication and sincere worship of my Rabb swt that I would be able to achieve the final touch in my transitory resting place, and wherefrom, my future for eternity would stem.
It is said in a hadith, that the Messenger of Allaah (sallallaahu 'alaihi wa sallam) said, "Verily the grave is the first stopping place for the Hereafter; so if he is saved therein, then what comes after is easier than it. And if he is not saved therefrom, then that which comes after is harder." (HASAN: At-Tirmidhee, Ibn Maajah, al-Haakim: from 'Uthmaan).
No doubt we must spend time and effort on our life in this world, but let us take a moment to reflect on our lives in the hereafter and see how much time we give for it’s preparation. Let us give both our lives, the amount of importance they deserve, so that we will not have to regret our time spent in frivolous activities, and instead benefit from the fruits of our toil, when no other entertainment will be had but that which we have prepared for.
