Pause and reflect upon the lives of the Companions, the scholars, and the noble legacy.
A new challenge: who am I?
I am the daughter of the Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings of Allah be upon him.
My mother is Khadija, may Allah be pleased with her.
I was born when my father, peace be upon him, was thirty-three years old.
I embraced Islam alongside my mother when I was seven years old.
I was known for my great beauty and was called the woman of the two migrations.
For I migrated to Abyssinia and then to Medina.
My father, peace be upon him, married me off before his mission began.
To his cousin, Abu 'Utba ibn Abi Lahab.
But when Allah the Exalted revealed His words:
"May the hands of Abu Lahab be ruined, and ruined is he,"
Abu Lahab said to his son, "My head is forbidden to your head,"
"Unless you divorce the daughter of Muhammad."
So he separated from me before the marriage was ever consummated.
It was an honor from Allah the Exalted to His Messenger that a polytheist should not be intimate with his daughter.
Then 'Uthman ibn 'Affan, may Allah be pleased with him, proposed to me.
My father married me to him by the command of Allah the Exalted.
I migrated with him to Abyssinia on a difficult journey.
There, I suffered a miscarriage while married to 'Uthman.
Later, I bore him a son whom we named 'Abdullah.
When he reached the age of six, a rooster pecked him in the eye.
His face swelled, he fell ill, and then he passed away.
In the second year of the Hijra, I was struck by a severe fever.
This was at the time when Allah the Almighty decreed the Battle of Badr.
The Prophet, peace be upon him, and the Muslims set out.
The Prophet, peace be upon him, commanded my husband 'Uthman,
To remain by my side to nurse me and care for me.
He granted him a share of the spoils of war.
His reward with Allah is like that of one who attended the battle.
No sooner had the bearer of glad tidings reached Medina with the news of the Muslim victory at Badr,
Than he saw the people of Medina leveling the earth over my grave.
For my time had come, and I was twenty-two years old.
When my father, peace be upon him, returned from the battle,
And learned of my death, he went out to the Baqi' al-Gharqad.
He stood by my grave, praying for mercy and forgiveness for me.
So, who am I?
They were here, watering the clouds of our lives.
Even after they passed, their memory remains exalted among us.
They departed, leaving a question in the conscience:
Is there any star like them that has risen and shone?
They filled life with pride through their deeds.
And the world of the people flourished because of them.