Assalam-o-Alaikum 
I stumbled upon this piece of article printed in this week’s edition of The News. Very thoughtfully written and the portrait that is depicted here by the author has strictly been of own and personal experience. The article is as follows:
**
my faith**
Sanctity on display?
By Aroona Moshabbbir
It was when I came across some ayahs regarding ‘purdah’, I wanted to wear hijab. It was hard! I had been one of the ‘burger bachis’ of a ‘liberal and open minded’ family. I used to wear jeans, quarters and sleeveless shirts publicly and was considered as a style diva among my peers. Gradually, I started bringing changes in my outlook - from jeans to shalwar kameez, elongating the sleeves etc. Everyone noticed the change but they thought that it had something to do with my style statement. It took me two years to gather up courage and to finally wear hijab. Literally, the world went against me, but I didn’t care. I was determined not to remove it. After sometime, many people understood while the rest compromised.
The real trouble started when I joined the university after college. Old friends weren’t there. I knew I had to make new ones. Still I wasn’t really worried. Socializing with people and making new friends had never been a problem for me. On the first day in the university, I found two other girls wearing hijab. After the orientation session, three of us naturally found each other standing together. They seemed to be nice and decent.
As days passed by, I realized they had nothing much to talk about, except boys! It seemed as if they knew everything about every boy in the university: their habits, academics, friends, everything. Each had a boyfriend with whom she dated quite frequently. And this wasn’t all; they used to detest other girls for the reason that they’d befriended boys or for not covering their heads etc.
Their hypocrisy made me sick. I left them and joined another group. A group of girls from ultra modern families; the kind of family I too belonged to. I thought I’d now be comfortable, but in vain. They used to look down upon those girls wearing hijab, calling them ‘frustrated naik parveens’. Repeatedly, they use to tell me that they feel embarrassed of the fact that I wore hijab. They asked me many times to remove it because it didn’t look good on me. One of them even commented that I was trying to attract boys by putting my, ‘sanctity on display’.
Broken, I had to leave them too.
It makes me wonder where exactly are we heading? Purdah is obligatory in Islam, but doesn’t Islam teach us not to take pride in anything we do? Hasn’t Islam declared backbiting and gossip mongering a sin? Why doesn’t hijab stop us from exposing us to our boyfriends? Islam has clearly defined the limits between mehrams and na- mehrams. And if choosing not to wear hijab is a matter of personal liberty, then why not choosing to wear it is? Is life all about looking good or being good in others’ eyes? Shouldn’t only self-satisfaction and trying to be good in the eyes of Allah be what matters the most to us? Can anyone answer my questions?
An extremely touching, emotional, distressing and poignant read.
Going back to the list of questions posed inside the contents of the last paragraph and several parts of concern mentioned throughout, shall we begin by asking what is your take on the author’s stance? Have you observed any such instance in your locality/neighborhood? Why, those women who “choose to” wear Hijab, are looked down upon (by her other female counter-parts and by the society)? Why the roots of our culture are being torn with every passing day?
