On a winter’s day, Mubina gazed out the window, lost in thought. She dreamt beautiful dreams, pondering how to achieve her aspirations. A sudden creak broke her reverie. The door opened, and her mother entered. Her mother switched off the lights, preparing for rest, and settled into bed. In the darkness, Mubina still tried to visualize the Kaaba.
It was the night between Thursday and Friday. Listlessly, she went to her place, picked up a picture of the Kaaba, and wept as she gazed at it. She yearned with all her heart to visit Allah’s house on Earth. Careful not to let her mother hear her sobs, Mubina wiped away her tears and quietly slipped into bed, closing her eyes. Sleep evaded her at first. After a while, her eyelids began to droop.
Suddenly, a light fell upon Mubina’s face. She opened her eyes to find herself in a vast expanse. The surroundings were breathtakingly beautiful. The natural phenomena were captivating. Mubina’s wonder grew, for on one side, a radiant light dazzled the eye, while on the other, rain gently fell. Curious to know where she was, she noticed something in the distance.
Mubina slowly walked towards the object visible amidst the dark clouds. As she looked, she could hardly believe her eyes. There, before her, stood the Kaaba. The immense, jet-black Kaaba, adorned with gold embroidery, was the object of her deepest desires. She circumambulated the Kaaba, and as she prayed, she suddenly awoke.
She found herself in her own bed, in her own home. Mubina realized she had been dreaming. Overcome with joy, she wept. Even in a dream, her cherished wish had come true.
Murodullayeva Makharram Rustam qizi was born on March 31,2003, in the Narpay district of the Samarkand region.
Nizomova Ismigul Zarif qizi, Shakhrisabz State Pedagogical Institute Master’s student
Meeting
Eyes meet. The boy smiles at the girl. The girl noticed it. His heart began to beat as if it had burst out of its sheath. He slowly looked at the ground and asked permission from his companion.
Wow, man was created and he is destined to descend into a place of testing called the world. Man’s life, love, career and even death is a test. Only the Almighty knows the greatness and smallness of the trial and the level of his servant in the presence of God. But love was not a simple test either. It was a great test. It was a hard test. It was a test that every lover could not bear and could not receive his love. It was a test of pure love, similar to the test of Yusuf and Zulaikha. This is what the girl thought (she realized it when she grew up). Thinking about it, the girl was at a loss for words. He looked only into the eyes of the man in front of him. He looked into the eyes of his beloved Suigani, the one he couldn’t forget even after years, the one he hoped to be together in heaven after the separation of the world. The eyes in front of him smiled. The girl couldn’t laugh. The feelings are confused.
How must she feel, poor girl? He didn’t notice as he walked out of his office. What if we worked on the same team, if our gazes met every day. He didn’t even know how he stopped the car with such thoughts in his head. He cried on the way. From the window of the car, she admired the beauty of the countryside in her youth, where she dreamed of going as a bride when she grew up. But no such luck. I wish it were as beautiful as this scene! Sometimes ordinary eyes are not enough to notice beauty. To realize the truth of beauty, besides two eyes, one also needs sight, that is, the eye of the heart.
Among the people of our time, those eyes are a blessing given only to the beloved of Allah. “We didn’t get it,” the girl read. ‘Well, I was young, but he is a man. Are you happy now? Is the world beautiful without me for the man who once said the world is beautiful with me?
A few years ago, the girl noticed that the hardships, aches and pains in her heart began to affect not only her soul, but her body as well. He realized this again when he looked in the mirror in his room. Complaining of fever, headache, insomnia, he began to cry again in his dark room. Complaining to anyone. There is a reward for the pains that were not told to the mother. This girl has pains and sorrows that she has not even told her mother about. How can she tell her mother that the one love of her life, the God-given love of her life, has re-entered her life and begun to affect her feelings?
No! No! I can’t tell her. She records the sounds of her heart in her journal. She seals it to make it easier for her. Why is he smiling at me? Or laughing at me? Why was I surrounded by incomprehensible feelings: sadness, humiliation, crying, deceit?
I was someone who loved, fought and lost. That’s all. I confessed. My goal is near the valley of loneliness. He loves me as his slave.
Years later, she realized That the only one she should trust, love, rely on and tell of her suffering was Allah. Now, as always, she remembered a verse of her favorite song, “They don’t call him a rich man, he has no country, for he’s a piece of heart.” “Yes, I have no country to my liking. I must keep this wealth and riches pure and prepare to meet God who created me, loved me, made me love, tested me, blessed me and made me dearer than all.”
“In sha Allah, the trials of life will one day end. The answers to the exam will be tested. And we will be victorious. Our meeting will be beautiful. Because you saved your money, I kept my love in my heart pure, and because I was able to laugh in this life even if it was hard. My liquid! Go and enjoy the ocean of knowledge, your students. I said: “Allah. I have a sea of patience. With wishes for a beautiful meeting,” said the girl, entrusting her beloved to God, and went to sleep.
Parents are the people who worked hard for us to grow up, always thought of us, and fed us without eating. We must learn to appreciate our family members. Because if we don’t appreciate them now, we won’t regret their absence tomorrow.
Nowadays, some children live separately from their parents or take their parents to nursing homes. These people are those who have lost their innocence and childhood. Such vices are not suitable for human beings. ! It means someone.
We know that there are families that are similar to these families. Of course not!
Some children become rich and lose their poverty and become arrogant. First of all, they don’t see how hard their parents have worked. Parents run for their children, but instead of being thanked when they grow up, they cannot live comfortably.
I came to the conclusion from this essay that no matter how much you achieve and become arrogant, if you don’t respect your parents, none of it is useful. The more good you do to your parents, the more rewards you will get in the next world.
Umarova Nazokat was born on December 21,2005 Yunusabad district, Tashkent city of the Republic of Uzbekistan. She currently studies at Tashkent state university of Law. She achieved a lot of awards and achievements. She is a reader, a young poet, a researcher, the author of numerous articles, thesis and poems. She is learning five languages, besides, she is a participant in international forums, conferences, and webinars, graduated from several personal development courses, is a volunteer in her community and has achieved many other successes.
If they are near you, when you are paying attention,
You will be lucky because of her prayers
Praying and asking for happiness.
As an angel mother on earth!
If you are sick, you have a headache
Thinking of you, my heart breaks every moment.
Paradise is the only example
As an angel mother on earth!
Nurullayeva Ra’no was born on September 13,2007 in Denov district of Surkhandarya region and is now busy with creativity. The first author’s book of our creator was published under the name ” Denov’s young creative daughter. ” It also has about 20 international certificates. Also, the author’s creative works have been published in many anthologies, such as ” Kalb gavhari ” ” Collection of creators” and “High flights ”
Flower
The beautiful white of musked roses
Smelled heavenly as I longed to see
A bright torpedo colour of blue skim
The butterfly vision over me
As I stranded over the cliffs of greenery
I swam a great high
Poetry is like flower
Bright beautiful pansies in a summer day
The long twisted hauled letters smiled at me
The mailed by the night circus of grappling intensity
As I turned around and saw the zeal of monsoon rain
Little sprinkled water of bucketed truth
As the flowers fell over my tip toed joy.
