O Allah, grant me the ability to write goodness and what will benefit the community of the noblest of creation. O Allah, hold my hands, my thoughts, my eyes, my fingers, my research, and prevent me from ever writing anything evil that would bring disaster, filth, or moral corruption to the Muslim community. O Allah, grant me the ability to remind, warn, and guide people towards success with reliance, faith, and steadfast worship. O Allah, show me the end of this book in peace, just as You showed me its beginning in peace, together with my parents, children, siblings, neighbors, students, followers, and all Muslims before they read it and those who will read it afterward. O Allah, show us both its beginning and end in peace, bless our lives and the lives of our children, guide our families, grant our sons righteous wives and our daughters righteous husbands, give married couples peace and righteous offspring, and protect our children’s upbringing upon the straight path.
O Allah, conceal our faults in this world and the Hereafter. O Lord of Might, look upon Your servants who are in need of children and marriage with eyes of mercy and grant them blessed ones. O Allah, grant health to the sick, give safe delivery to expectant mothers, relieve those in hardship and debt, expand their provisions, and grant them the ability to repay. O Allah, guide the children of Muslims whose upbringing is corrupted. O Allah, bring us ease in this difficult worldly struggle, resolve the trials disturbing our nation, and grant our pilgrims a blessed Hajj.
By the sanctity of the Prophet and the Qur’an, O Lord of the universe, forgive us, pardon our shortcomings, grant us a beautiful ending, make us utter the testimony of faith at the moment of death, and welcome us with angels of mercy who seize the soul with greetings of peace. O Ever-Living, O Self-Subsisting, by Your mercy we seek help—have mercy on my mother Fatima (Deddena), make her resting place gentle, illuminate her grave, and expand it for her. O Allah, make her dwell in the gardens of Jannatul Firdaus, for indeed what is with You is better than what is here. O Allah, grant us patience and strength over her loss. O Allah, shower her with mercy by the sanctity of the Prophet and the Qur’an. ðŸ™ðŸ»ðŸ˜ðŸ˜ðŸ˜
Personal Words to Friends
Note on the Book and Night Scene
The book SAKAYYAH costs only ₦1,000. This is just a free page. My dear sister, kindly pay and read the rest peacefully. 0661110170 GTBank AISHA ALIYU GARKUWA. Then send me your payment proof on WhatsApp 09097853276. If you don’t have an account, you can pay through POS—give them ₦100 so they send ₦900 for you (some charge ₦50). Or you can buy an MTN recharge card, copy the numbers, and send them to me on WhatsApp. Please no VTU, for Allah’s sake.
She slowly pushed the door of her room, filled with serenity and greetings of peace, knowing she had cut short her sleep to rise in the last third of the night, seeking safety and the pleasure of her Lord who created her and gave her life and health. With no fear, for whenever she woke at midnight, Allah was her comfort. Even though the house was huge and surrounded by greenery, close by ran the tail of River Gembulan in Taraba State, drawing the shape of the letter C around the mansion. They were only two living in that vast house.
Though her room and the section of her grandson Modibbo were far apart, they kept the house alive with the remembrance of Allah always, so He descended tranquility and peace upon them. She exhaled gently, adjusting her wrapper, then tightened her grip on the small clay jug in her hand. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them as she felt a soft, pleasant breeze flowing through her body, filling her with peace and joy.
Turning westward, she saw the moon setting, a sign that night was deep. The moon had been out for eleven nights, pointing to midnight or past one. She turned east, gazing toward Modibbo’s faraway quarters, where flowers decorated the entire compound.
The house was of exquisite design, comparable to those in developed countries. A large mansion with vast grounds: a big gate with space for six cars without touching, a guardhouse with a veranda but empty, tall gwanja trees along the walls, and flowers of blue, red, and yellow below them. Inside, another gate led to a section filled with palm trees, mango, guava, and cabbula trees, plus space for cars. On the right was a flower-lined path leading to Modibbo’s quarters, a slightly elevated structure with a wide veranda, shiny tiles, and seven wide steps. Silver railings protected the veranda, with pots of fragrant flowers on each step.
From the veranda, one could view River Gembulan and its banks. Behind his quarters was a beautiful garden, a swimming pool with seats at the corners, and a bed. Inside, a spacious parlour of elegant furniture, curtains, and lighting—all white with a touch of sky blue—looked heavenly. Dining area, kitchen, corridor, and bedrooms lined the right and left. Even his parlour had large windows through which the river could be seen, surrounded by flowers.
His grandmother’s quarters were simple and traditional: one room with a kitchen, a backyard, and no indoor bathroom, as she insisted. Her bed remained traditional, but she allowed flowers, carpets, and simple comforts. Nearby was a traditional hut with four chairs, a table, and a fire pit for warmth.
Allah blessed Modibbo’s hand; everything he planted thrived.
She sighed after gazing at the vast compound. No bright moonlight nor stars shone, as clouds covered the sky. She walked carefully toward her backyard, mindful of the slippery cement floor. At her bathroom door, she paused to recite the supplication:
“Allahumma inni a’udhubika minal khubuthi wal khabaa’ith.”
Just as Modibbo always reminded her of the importance of prayers. After finishing, she sat on a stone by her veranda, facing east, and began ablution.
Meanwhile, Modibbo lay in his quarters, his tongue moist with Allah’s remembrance, in a state between sleep and wakefulness—neither dream, nor reality, nor unconsciousness—sometimes encountering mysterious visions in that state.
As she adjusted her seat, she suddenly noticed a strange light flash before her, thinking perhaps electricity had returned. But there was no sign of power, only a chilling glow. Her heart trembled, though she had never felt fear in that house before.
She lowered her head, continuing ablution, when she raised her hand filled with water to rinse her mouth. Suddenly, a terrifying light illuminated everything—even the water in her palm. Shocked, she spilled the water and turned around quickly. She looked east, west, south, and north—no person, no sign of where the light came from—yet it only grew brighter.
A soothing breeze passed, making Modibbo shift his body, enjoying a mysterious, sweet sleep, while his tongue continued uttering countless prayers.
Description
Heartfelt Supplication
O Allah, grant me the ability to write goodness and what will benefit the community of the noblest of creation. O Allah, hold my hands, my thoughts, my eyes, my fingers, my research, and prevent me from ever writing anything evil that would bring disaster, filth, or moral corruption to the Muslim community. O Allah, grant me the ability to remind, warn, and guide people towards success with reliance, faith, and steadfast worship. O Allah, show me the end of this book in peace, just as You showed me its beginning in peace, together with my parents, children, siblings, neighbors, students, followers, and all Muslims before they read it and those who will read it afterward. O Allah, show us both its beginning and end in peace, bless our lives and the lives of our children, guide our families, grant our sons righteous wives and our daughters righteous husbands, give married couples peace and righteous offspring, and protect our children’s upbringing upon the straight path.
O Allah, conceal our faults in this world and the Hereafter. O Lord of Might, look upon Your servants who are in need of children and marriage with eyes of mercy and grant them blessed ones. O Allah, grant health to the sick, give safe delivery to expectant mothers, relieve those in hardship and debt, expand their provisions, and grant them the ability to repay. O Allah, guide the children of Muslims whose upbringing is corrupted. O Allah, bring us ease in this difficult worldly struggle, resolve the trials disturbing our nation, and grant our pilgrims a blessed Hajj.
By the sanctity of the Prophet and the Qur’an, O Lord of the universe, forgive us, pardon our shortcomings, grant us a beautiful ending, make us utter the testimony of faith at the moment of death, and welcome us with angels of mercy who seize the soul with greetings of peace. O Ever-Living, O Self-Subsisting, by Your mercy we seek help—have mercy on my mother Fatima (Deddena), make her resting place gentle, illuminate her grave, and expand it for her. O Allah, make her dwell in the gardens of Jannatul Firdaus, for indeed what is with You is better than what is here. O Allah, grant us patience and strength over her loss. O Allah, shower her with mercy by the sanctity of the Prophet and the Qur’an. ðŸ™ðŸ»ðŸ˜ðŸ˜ðŸ˜
Personal Words to Friends
Note on the Book and Night Scene
The book SAKAYYAH costs only ₦1,000. This is just a free page. My dear sister, kindly pay and read the rest peacefully. 0661110170 GTBank AISHA ALIYU GARKUWA. Then send me your payment proof on WhatsApp 09097853276. If you don’t have an account, you can pay through POS—give them ₦100 so they send ₦900 for you (some charge ₦50). Or you can buy an MTN recharge card, copy the numbers, and send them to me on WhatsApp. Please no VTU, for Allah’s sake.
She slowly pushed the door of her room, filled with serenity and greetings of peace, knowing she had cut short her sleep to rise in the last third of the night, seeking safety and the pleasure of her Lord who created her and gave her life and health. With no fear, for whenever she woke at midnight, Allah was her comfort. Even though the house was huge and surrounded by greenery, close by ran the tail of River Gembulan in Taraba State, drawing the shape of the letter C around the mansion. They were only two living in that vast house.
Though her room and the section of her grandson Modibbo were far apart, they kept the house alive with the remembrance of Allah always, so He descended tranquility and peace upon them. She exhaled gently, adjusting her wrapper, then tightened her grip on the small clay jug in her hand. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them as she felt a soft, pleasant breeze flowing through her body, filling her with peace and joy.
Turning westward, she saw the moon setting, a sign that night was deep. The moon had been out for eleven nights, pointing to midnight or past one. She turned east, gazing toward Modibbo’s faraway quarters, where flowers decorated the entire compound.
The house was of exquisite design, comparable to those in developed countries. A large mansion with vast grounds: a big gate with space for six cars without touching, a guardhouse with a veranda but empty, tall gwanja trees along the walls, and flowers of blue, red, and yellow below them. Inside, another gate led to a section filled with palm trees, mango, guava, and cabbula trees, plus space for cars. On the right was a flower-lined path leading to Modibbo’s quarters, a slightly elevated structure with a wide veranda, shiny tiles, and seven wide steps. Silver railings protected the veranda, with pots of fragrant flowers on each step.
From the veranda, one could view River Gembulan and its banks. Behind his quarters was a beautiful garden, a swimming pool with seats at the corners, and a bed. Inside, a spacious parlour of elegant furniture, curtains, and lighting—all white with a touch of sky blue—looked heavenly. Dining area, kitchen, corridor, and bedrooms lined the right and left. Even his parlour had large windows through which the river could be seen, surrounded by flowers.
His grandmother’s quarters were simple and traditional: one room with a kitchen, a backyard, and no indoor bathroom, as she insisted. Her bed remained traditional, but she allowed flowers, carpets, and simple comforts. Nearby was a traditional hut with four chairs, a table, and a fire pit for warmth.
Allah blessed Modibbo’s hand; everything he planted thrived.
She sighed after gazing at the vast compound. No bright moonlight nor stars shone, as clouds covered the sky. She walked carefully toward her backyard, mindful of the slippery cement floor. At her bathroom door, she paused to recite the supplication:
“Allahumma inni a’udhubika minal khubuthi wal khabaa’ith.”
Just as Modibbo always reminded her of the importance of prayers. After finishing, she sat on a stone by her veranda, facing east, and began ablution.
Meanwhile, Modibbo lay in his quarters, his tongue moist with Allah’s remembrance, in a state between sleep and wakefulness—neither dream, nor reality, nor unconsciousness—sometimes encountering mysterious visions in that state.
As she adjusted her seat, she suddenly noticed a strange light flash before her, thinking perhaps electricity had returned. But there was no sign of power, only a chilling glow. Her heart trembled, though she had never felt fear in that house before.
She lowered her head, continuing ablution, when she raised her hand filled with water to rinse her mouth. Suddenly, a terrifying light illuminated everything—even the water in her palm. Shocked, she spilled the water and turned around quickly. She looked east, west, south, and north—no person, no sign of where the light came from—yet it only grew brighter.
A soothing breeze passed, making Modibbo shift his body, enjoying a mysterious, sweet sleep, while his tongue continued uttering countless prayers.