Celebration of an inadequate woman
Note: This lousy and mundane prose is inspired by and is a reaction to a beautiful and eloquent prose “The Hoor’s Last Sigh” by Ali Eteraz. I’m posting it because my husband loves it. It has little to do with religion but everything to do with womanhood.
I have taken upon myself the obligation of protecting The Hoor; the beautiful bizarre creature whom no man or Jinn has neither touched nor seen. I will launch a thousand ships to guard her, fighting shield to shield forgetting my own life, and grappling with the enemy like the ancient Spartan. And if all fails, I will do what I am best at doing - I will beseech the assailant to spare The Hoor’s life. I will beg on my knees, crawl like a wimp, even lay down my own life for her. I will use all methods to save her for I am The Hoor! Every new outfit that I wore as a little girl made me feel like The Hoor. Every time I combed my sandy locks and brushed them away from my face my mother would call out in admiration, “MashAllah, my beauty, my Hoor!� You see, I am The Hoor and I have grown up to believe that.
Hoor is what I will become. The varicose-ridden legs from bearing an earthly child will once again transform into satin spar limbs that will reflect the marrow of my bones. My hair that has lost its luster over three decades will renovate into wavy ringlets, hanging down to my unblemished legs. I will regain my striking gazelle-like eternal eyes. I will become the sweet water, the blazing fire, the everlasting youthful beauty which the earthly eyes pollute each time they glance at me. My time on this earth is limited and ultimately I must return to Heaven to be converted into what I was created to be. I have grown up to believe that I am The Hoor.
The restless soul that God put in me edged me to climb down the seven rungged ladder to explore the world, to search for Adam to whom I had heard the angels had bowed. Here, I was spat in the face, pulled, grabbed, pinched, catcalled, singed, battered, raped, sold into prostitution, tortured and killed in the name of honour. I became a ‘woman’ - a dirty, filthy, earthly woman. I, The Hoor, could not bear witness alone; I was confined to life inside the house like a priceless pearl; veil my earthly face so I always wore double masks – the mortal mask over my eternal visage and a veil over my earthly face. I had to share my Adam with three mortal women, each receiving only a part of him. I served him day and night, bore his children, suffered the pain of childbirth, and then suffered the pain when they grew up and left me for better future; once again severing the cord which had connected us. On earth, I was equal to Adam; only he was more equal than me. The myopic earthly eyes did not see my true beauty. They will never be able to see my true beauty. But, I know that I am The Hoor.
I must save The Hoor. And when I return to Heaven, I will revert to who I was; who I should have been all my mortal life but could not. I will remove the veil from my eternal face, so the mortals can see my true countenance. The confiners, catcallers, pinchers, grabbers, assaulters shall witness The Hoor and know their folly. They shall know the heart they hurt, the soul they stained. They shall beg me for my company which they had refused on earth to wench before my very eyes; for a whiff of my hair which they had pulled ruthlessly in the name of marital right; for a glimpse of my fair face that they had seared with acid to preserve their so-called honour. Do they not see the hidden beauty of a mortal woman? Do they not know what they hurt? Is it not ironic then that they transgress the Muslimah while aspiring for The Hoor, not knowing that the Muslimah and The Hoor are but the same? Before resting my bones in dust, I must serve my time on earth and as I close my eyes at the end of each earthly day I hear my mother say, “my beauty, my Hoor.� I must save The Hoor to protect the beautiful nymph in me. I am The Hoor and I will always believe that.
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