The equation between a mother and her daughter is often beyond description, with only the two of them able to decipher the body language of the other
Newton said the Earth is like a great magnet. All the heavenly bodies have the qualities of a magnet — they attract opposites and repel the likes. It is true for worldly life, too. We when we go after the world, it repels us, when we go away from it, it follows us.
“Kya boriat hai,” was the recurring slogan on the tip of my 17-year-old daughter’s tongue. “What do I do, Ammi,” my daughter would ask hundreds of times a day during her vacations.
“Why don’t you complete your homework,” was the only answer I could come up with.
“I don’t feel like doing it now, maybe later,” would come the reply.
I could never urge her to do her work or complete her assignments. I knew she was capable of completing her work even at the eleventh hour. I could not understand the philosophy or psychology behind “I’m don’t feel like it” because I did not want to engage myself in a never-ending debate with my daughter.
She was my daughter and I was really impressed by her. The pride of motherhood would never let me tell her how desperately I adored her confidence and qualities — how envious I feel when she admitted her follies in front of everyone, while I tried to hide or justify mine.
But I could not understand her feeling so bored most of the time. Why was she sick of everything? She was only 13 and already she had experienced and rejected almost every activity which her teenage friends still indulged in. Neither did she waste her time on the telephone nor spent her nights chatting on the Internet. She had lots of friends and was very popular. She never compromised on what was essential to her in life, but she was pretty lenient about certain things that were essential for the rest of the world.
There was something special about her, not because she was my daughter, but because she often made me feel that she was alien to our ways. She was successful because she had the courage to accept her defeat. She had the courage to admire the qualities of others and to criticize herself in public. She looked down upon our caring attitude of worldly merits and standards. The more she rejected the world, the more she got success. She was extremely religious and I, being her mother, only know this now when she has gone away. I found a copy of the Holy Quran with notes written on it and some other papers in her locker.
Her standards and merits were totally different from ours. I still remember when my husband died and everyone was passing through intense grief. She was offering water to everyone with literally dry eyes. There was not a single tear in her eyes. She was serious, but not gloomy. People, including me, were worried that she might be in some kind of shock due to the sudden death of her father. But later, she told me, “Ammi, why should I shed tears for Baba when I know that I am going to meet him soon. He is just not here with us, but he is somewhere else, isn’t he? Instead of shedding tears, why shouldn’t I continue serving him as I used to when he was with us. I have promised Almighty Allah that I will never cry for my father. I know He wants some other kind of service from me.”
I could never understand her fully. Sometimes she frightened me with her unusual behaviour. I must say that despite being so young, she had understood the purpose of life to some extend and that was the cause of her success. Most of the time, she knew the consequences of her actions and she always followed her intuitions instead of my dictations. She never disobeyed me, neither did she follow my ways. She was a prodigy and a source of inspiration for me, her mother. Now that she is not with me, I can say without any hesitation that I never feel worried about her. I know that wherever she is, she is safe.
I know that all the religious notions and beliefs that are only on the tip of our tongues have been wrought on her heart and she practised them in life. She has integrated these things in herself. She really meant what she said and she really practised her beliefs. I can say proudly that my teenage daughter played the role of a guide to me. I could never forget the ecstasy of that moment when I heard her saying: “The secret of my success is the religious training of my Ammi and Baba.” I could not listen to the answer of the next question that the newspaper correspondent asked her, that how could she relate her worldly success to her religious training as both of these things seemed opposite to each other. I knew whatever position and status she had was earned by her own, but she related it to us.
She is not my only daughter, I have other children, too. But after having sent her away from me, I realize why Prophet Jacob cried his eyes white for Joseph, when he still had eleven other sons to him.
The equation between a mother and her daughter is often beyond description, with only the two of them able to decipher the body language of the other 
