I AM “THEIR” JOY!

Three decades ago, on the 21^st morning of a hot and humid August, I was born. Despite being in active labor, my mum was rushed to the operating theatre and was put under the knife to bring me into this world. Why? Because my heartbeat slumped. Back then, it was all done under general anesthesia. My mum narrates that when she regained consciousness, she saw female figures all clad in white, making her believe that she had made her transition to the other world. She mistook the nurses for angels or “Hoors” for she staunchly believes that if a mother dies during childbirth, she gets the status of a martyr. Anyhow, It was expected on her part as I was the first baby born via C-section on both my paternal and maternal sides of the family—so the hunch was real.

The Story Behind…

My Nani entered the recovery room, and my mum became teary thinking that I (her child) didn’t make it. Believe me, she’s not a theatrical person, but she was definitely delirious. On hearing the words “Mubarak Ho!” (Congratulations!), my then petrified mum—who first mistook herself to be in heaven and later the victim of a great tragedy—swallowed that lump in her throat, drew her breath in, and thanked Allah for saving her and my life. My Nani used to tell me that when the doctor brought showed me to my father while I was in the medical tray, he held and hugged me tight the very instant. My Nani kept telling him that let the nurse clean me first but he said, “Ye mera khoon hay!” (She is my Blood!). He was just so happy.

Back to the hospital, the nurse brought me into the room and my father followed. She put in the crib and my father held me up again—this time all clean and nicely clad—and said “Ye meri ankhon ki thandak hay, ye meri QuratulAin hay!” (She is the joy of my eye, she is my Beloved!). My mum had her hands delved into Urdu Literature and might have short-listed some names as every mother does, but fell in love with the way my father called me with this name, certainly his love for me conquered all. So, that’s how I became QuratulAin Hamza, “Hamza ki ankhon ki thandak” (Hamza’s Beloved/Joy).

The Conflict…

Growing up with a name that was a bit long was not one of my favorite things. This name also became so common back then that I always had a girl or two in my class who shared the name with me. When I was in my surly teens, I developed this feeling that my name isn’t unique the way I wanted it to be (I wasn’t sure myself as to how unique exactly I wanted it to be on the scale, blame my hormones). I was most of the time in conflict with my name because people with different dialects used to pronounce it to their liking and that bothered me. I also questioned my mum as to why she didn’t give me a unique and a little lesser long name. (Just so you know she named her secondborn, Rabael)

With time, as I moved past my teen years, I began to make peace with my name. I started loving it. After all, it was my identity. This satisfaction came from somewhere deep within me. I began to appreciate how lovingly my name had been given to me. I stood out as QuratulAin and made sure to remain the joy of my parents’ eyes in every way possible. As maturity paved in, I became more content with the fact that my father had showered his love on me when I was barely a few breaths old. I truly treasure that moment.

Finding Peace…

After my marriage, when I moved to the Middle East, I was surprised by the overwhelming response from Arabic speakers to my name. Whether in Saudi Arabia, the Emirates, or Qatar, there were always people who found my name unique and one that stood out.  Once, while boarding a Saudi airline, the check-in officer, seeing my passport, asked me in wonder if I knew the meaning of my name. I confirmed, and she continued, ‘You have a unique and beautiful name.’ My ophthalmologist ensures I pronounce my name correctly, with the ‘r’ sound as an alveolar trill, produced by the tip of my tongue against the frontal palate.

In short, if the person I was dealing with knew Arabic, they made sure I knew what a beautiful meaning my name carries. Well, my name has certainly given me some kind of uniqueness in this part of the world. That’s how the dice rolls (pun intended).

I sometimes wonder how Allah crafts His plans. He first allows His creation to make peace with the things around them on their own, and when one accepts the situation, He seals it. He then pours in wisdom that illuminates the heart further and lets nature conspire to make you fall in love with the very idea of loving ‘that very thing’ in the first place. How Divine!

So, here I stand as, QuratulAin Hamza (The Joy of Hamza’s Eye), who loves every bit of her being and her name, Alhamdolillah!

QuratulAin is a name of Arabic origin and is mentioned in The Holy Quran 3 times; 25:74, 28:9 and 32:17

Denotative meaning
Qurat =  joy, happiness, delight, comfort, coolness 
Ain   =  eye, fountain, spring

Connotative meaning
Joy to the eye
A beloved child 
Delight of the eyes
A child who brings joy/comfort to his/her parents
A child who prevents his/her parents from sorrow/unhappiness

P.S: Next time if you wanna tell someone that ‘you’re the apple of my eye’, try saying ‘you’re my QuratulAin’.

Have a lovely day!

~ QuratulAin Hamza