Behayaa Bepanaa - Boundless Immodesty

"Rishte tab hi qaaim rehte hain, jab dil mein ho."
(Relationships remain strong when they are in the heart.)

The wind whipped through her curly hair as she sprinted down the passageway, then descended the stairs with such speed that she nearly toppled the exquisite vase that stood proudly on a round table positioned perpendicular to the staircase. Her giggles echoed throughout the entire mansion, a lively and soothing sound. Her delicate bare feet thudded on the wooden floor as she ran.

She was running from her younger sister, frantically searching for a hiding place to seek refuge in.

When she heard Hamna's feet thudding on the wooden stairs, she hurriedly ducked her head beneath the staircase. A few of her brown tendrils framed her face as she sat down and bowed her head.

She hoped Hamna wouldn't see her here. Due to Hamna's long legs and quick strides, she was able to catch up with her faster than she had expected her to, leaving her no choice but to hide in a rather visible spot.

She held her breath as she heard her sister passing, drawing closer to her "hiding" spot.

Her head snapped up when she felt a solid smack delivered to her back.

She turned around with an agitated expression, about to scold Hamna for being so violent. However, her look turned into a sheepish grin when she saw her mother standing beside her hiding spot, looking very unamused.

She hurriedly exited her hiding spot, banging her head in the process.

She winced, rubbing the sore spot. She was sure it would swell soon.

Sakina shook her head at her daughter's clumsiness. Her daughter was sometimes such a child.

She sighed, giving Naailah a disapproving look.

"Naailah, you're not a child anymore; stop behaving like one." Her mother chided her in Pashto, her mother tongue.

Naailah's chocolate-brown eyes sparkled with amusement.

She grinned at her mother.

Her mother worried too much; she needed to relax a bit sometimes.

She leaned towards her mother and pecked her cheek.

"Mother dear, outwardly there's no doubt I'm a grown woman, but I'm still a child at heart."

A scowl spread across Sakina's face.

She knew her daughter was just having innocent fun, but it was about time she began acting her age and started carrying herself with poise and dignity, like all her other nieces did. She was afraid that Naailah's carefree attitude and naivety would lead to her downfall if not addressed soon. She was already twenty-one! Some of her nieces were married and had one child by this age. 

She sighed and placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder. She only wanted the best for her daughter.

"Naailah, one day you'll have to get married. You'll need to learn how to do household chores, and you'll also need to learn how to cook. Life isn't only for amusement."

Naailah huffed, wondering why the "M" word always had to come up in every conversation. She was beginning to despise that word now.

"Ammi Jaan, let me play a little now. When I get married, then I'll be cooking and doing household chores all day and night."

Her mother smacked her forehead.

This girl would never learn!

"Hey, girl! I don't want you to end up like that girl who got married and doesn't even know how to hang wet clothes." She scolded in Pastho. 

At this, Naailah giggled, but before she could reply, Waleed entered through the front door.

He beamed at her and shook his head when he heard his beloved daughter was getting scolded by her mother.

He winked at Naailah, who grinned in response.

She knew her father would save her from her mother's endless lectures.

"Oh, my dear wife, why are you always scolding my ladli (beloved) daughter? Leave her alone."

Sakina huffed, then pivoted on her heel and walked towards the kitchen in angry strides.

She muttered incoherent words under her breath as she warmed up food for her husband.

The father and daughter silently shook with laughter.

Naailah walked toward her father. She pecked his cheek and then grabbed his briefcase from his hand.

Smiling, he lovingly patted her head. His eyes shone with pride and affection as he leaned down to plant a kiss on her forehead.

"How are you, my ladli?"

She beamed.

"Alhamdulillah, I'm perfectly well. How are you, Abbu Jaan?"

"Alhamdulillah, I'm excellent."

Just then, Hamna appeared from behind the staircase. Her eyes shone with mischief as she pouted at her father.

"Abu jee, mujhe bhool gaye kya?" (Beloved father, have you forgotten about me?)

He chuckled, embracing his little daughter, who often got jealous when he showered Naailah with extra affection.

He couldn't help but think that she was already twenty-one; soon she would be married and living her own life. She was merely a guest in this house.

The thought saddened him.

He hugged Hamna and then stepped back.

"And how is my little raani (queen) ?"

She smiled at that.

 She was infact the queen of the house. She got away with things that Naailah got scolded for and was pampered much more than Naailah as a baby. 

Waleed was a safe harbor for his daughters. He anchored them when waves of worry threatened to pull them under, making sure their anxiety never had the chance to drown them.  Where fear rose like a tide, he stood firm — so their anxiety never swallowed them whole.

Waleed drew his strength from the parenting of Yaqub عليه السلام.

When Yusuf عليه السلام whispered his visionary dream, Yaqub didn’t silence him. Yaqub عليه السلام didn't brush it aside. He listened with a full heart, honored his son’s feelings, and wrapped his fears in wisdom instead of dismissal.

After Waleed had excused himself and disappeared up the stairs, Naailah turned to Hamna with her hands clasped on her hips.

"Where were you?"

Hamna's eyes sparkled with mirth.

"Oh, I might have been the one who told Ammi jaan that you used my favorite pyjama top to clean your boots and also told her where you were hiding."

Naailah narrowed her eyes.

"And then you stood in the shadows while I got all the scolding."

Hamna grinned like a Cheshire cat.

"Serves you right for touching something that wasn't yours!"

Naailah rolled her eyes.

"You call that a pyjama top? Did you see its condition? It literally had about five holes on the back. It was completely worn out and utterly useless as a top. How do you even wear something like that?"

Hamna huffed.

"I don't care. It was my most comfortable top, and you ruined it."

Naailah scoffed.

"It was already ruined. I justifiably used it as a cloth to clean my shoes."

Hamna crossed her arms over her chest.

"You did that without the owner's permission!"

Naailah rolled her eyes.

"You are just a typical hoarder who can't even part with worn-out and tattered things!"

"I am not! Watch me; I will take it back, wash it thoroughly, and wear it again. And don't you dare touch it ever again!"

Naailah threw her head back in laughter.

"You really wouldn't do such a thing."

"Try me!"

Hamna narrowed her eyes, then stomped up the stairs, mumbling incoherent words under her breath.

Despite their everyday sibling banter, the two sisters shared a deeply close-knit bond.
It was the kind of bond Yusuf عليه السلام shared with his brother Binyameen— rooted in love, loyalty, and understanding.

In times of hardship, in the middle of family stress, they became each other’s anchor.  
When the world felt heavy, they held each other steady so neither one would drift.

A voice and a chuckle followed by the click of the front door startled her.

"You're always grating on her nerves!"

She quickly draped her dupatta over her head, concealing her hair.

She passed him a small smile, which he returned with a full-blown one.

"Waqaas, what brings you here?" And weren't you taught to knock first? She wanted to add that but decided against it. She didn't need another bout of shouting from her mother.

"I came for you."

He beamed.

"What?"

Naailah and Hamna, who had returned and ascended the last stair when they heard the door open, said in unison, both shocked by his reply.

He chuckled, earning a disapproving look from Naailah.

"I was just joking, girls. Calm down!"

He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender.

"What a terrible way to end a peaceful Monday. If I'd known it was you, I wouldn't have come back downstairs."

Hamna wrinkled her nose at Waqaas, who smirked in response.

"Oh, trust me, I don't look forward to seeing you as soon as I enter this house. But, oh well, what can I do? I'm a magnet for every girl."

Hamna scoffed.

"Psht, puh-lease. I've seen way better!"

He raised an eyebrow, and Naailah giggled.

"Oh! Have you now? Wait till Khala jaan hears that!"

She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Oh, I have a lot of evidence against you. If you tell Ammi jaan what I said."

Waqaas stepped forward. He had a look of amusement in his eyes, while hers held pure irritation and annoyance.

Finally, he stepped back, flashing a bright smile at the sisters.

"I have to establish relationships with my family, and the only way to do that is to visit them often."

Naailah shook her head in disapproval.

"I don't agree with you. You can visit often but still have disagreements and ill feelings toward one another."

He raised his brow.

"Aha, if you say so."

"Relationships are only sustained when there's goodwill in the heart."

He smirked.

"Oh! Since when did you utter such intellectual and deep things?"

She rolled her eyes.

"You'd better go before Ammi scolds us for speaking to each other."

He frowned but nodded nonetheless.

Sakina disliked her daughters speaking to their male cousins unnecessarily, as it was not permitted in Islam and was also considered inappropriate. Many of her female cousins spoke openly to their male cousins because their parents weren't as strict as Sakina was.

Since childhood, Waqaas and Naailah had been inseparable; they did everything together. Wherever one went, the other followed. As Waqaas entered his teenage years, they grew closer. However, once Naailah reached puberty, Sakina forbade them from conversing.

In their family, it was a norm for cousins to marry each other, another reason for Sakina's stern warnings. 

Naailah didn't heed her mother's warnings; she would still converse with him when her mother wasn't watching.

Cousinhood is innocent in childhood. But Islam draws a line at puberty — not to break hearts, but to protect them. Naailah was grown, and she knew better. Yet maybe the seeds were never planted early enough.

Sakina’s message was right. Her timing wasn’t. Hayaa and the limits of non-mahram interaction are not lessons for teen years. They are lessons that ought to be instilled long before puberty.

When parents delay modesty and boundaries until puberty, it feels like a cage, not a crown. When they allow free mixing prior to puberty, the sudden haraam may feel like punishment. 

Waqaas and Naailah had been inseparable since they could walk. Only when Naailah matured did Sakina speak of Allaah’s limits.

Tarbiyah cannot come as a warning after the fact. It must come as love before the test. Because teens don’t run from rules. They run from harshness. They hold onto what is explained to them with wisdom, not what is forced on them with fear.

Perhaps Sakina's method of advice was too harsh. Perhaps it lacked love and wisdom. She didn't realize that teenagers need immense patience and understanding. They obey what they understand.

The more a parent rebukes and belittles them, the further they drift from the very values instilled in them.

The cousins would tease them when the elders weren’t around, calling them “childhood lovers.”  
Naailah would always brush it off with a laugh.  She never saw Waqaas that way. And she was certain she never would.

Waqaas would only chuckle and shake his head. But in the quiet moments, there was a different light in his eyes — one he tried to hide.  

A few of their cousins noticed. They chose to say nothing. “Fate will decide,” they whispered. “Whether they’re bound in nikaah, or destined for separate paths.”

But what they didn’t understand was this: fate doesn’t erase responsibility, and silence doesn’t erase consequences.

Naailah’s mistake wasn’t malice. It was naivety. Her heart was still pure, Alhamdulillah. But purity without boundaries becomes vulnerability.  She believed that because her intentions were clean, the closeness was harmless. She didn’t realize that shaytan rarely comes with a banner that says “fall in love." He comes softly and says, “You’re just friends. What’s the harm in talking?”

And so, without meaning to, she kept the door open — a little. A private joke here. A secret conversation there. A glance that lingered half a second too long.

She didn’t see the risk. But Sakina did. A heart is not something we control once we start feeding it. Today Naailah could say “I don’t feel that way.” Tomorrow, loneliness, teasing, and time could turn that “never” into “maybe.”

If hopes were allowed to grow where there was no clear, halal path, only pain would follow. Either Naailah would be pushed into a marriage that lacked love,  Or Waqaas would be left carrying feelings that had nowhere to go. And when it involved family, the wound wouldn’t just be theirs. It would cut through the whole home.

Islam hadn’t placed these boundaries to punish them. Allaah placed them to protect them.  
'وَلَا تَقْرَبُوا الزِّنَىٰ' 
And do not even go near fornication [17:32]

Because Allaah knows how hearts work. He knows how a seed, watered daily, becomes a tree that’s painful to uproot.

The decree was already written. The pens had been lifted, the ink had dried. If Allah had written him for her, no distance would stop it.  And if He hadn’t, then holding on would only cause pain to him and problems for her.