“Today Miss Elizabeth came wearing a scarf to school. She informed us that she converted to Islam!” Ali broke out the news flash of the day at the family dining table.
“Really? And what was she wearing?” Samra Apa inquired curiously.
“Uhhh… I think some black gown,” Ali focused on his freshly sliced pizza oozing with cheese.
“Courageous woman! It is a huge change from skirts to gowns,” Samra Apa commented, raising her eyebrows and recalling the time when she had begun donning the Hijab.
“Did she share why she changed her faith?” Dad asked Ali, who was trying to dodge mom’s watchful eyes and pick out the mushrooms that he disliked.
“Yeah! She said that she was very surprised by the kind and just treatment of the school’s Muslim principal. Also, she was impressed to see how Muslims responded to the five daily prayers, despite being busy like the rest of the world.” Ali served himself a second slice, absolutely enjoying his dinner.
Mom commented: “It generally takes one person to change the way you look at things. As Muslims, we either bring the disbelievers closer to Allah (swt) or make them run away from Islam.”
“But how is that?” Samra Apa objected. “I mean if someone drives the Mercedes car and rams it into another car, you will blame the driver, not the Mercedes company. Likewise, if Muslims misbehave in any way, Islam should not be blamed for it.”
“It is the case, my dear,” Dad replied, “that reminds me of an interesting story I read about the Indian sub-continent, before Pakistan was made. It was about Major Massey, who was posted to Attock Fort in undivided India.”
“Tell us, please!” Samra Apa loved stories. Ali was busy with his third slice and tried to sound enthusiastic in between his bites. “Yes… Dad… go ahead.”
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