By Mohammed Baquir Hemraj

I was fortunate in that my parents believed that girls should be highly educated as they rightly believed that in educating a woman you educate the whole family. I lived in Birmingham but was offered to pursue an undergraduate degree course in London. I decided to live in a private flat rather than at the campus in order to be independent avoiding the distraction of parties.

I noticed that opposite my flat lived a man who used to dress shabbily and had a long untrimmed beard. He would leave his flat in the morning and he would come back in the evening. Of course I was curious as to who he was and what he did for a living but as from his appearance and his demure he appeared to be unfriendly.  I did not have guts to ask him. What I did was to ask a woman living above my flat and I was pleasantly surprised and that he was a painter and that every day he would go out with his sketch pad for inspiration and ideas from mother nature, he would then paint at night and sell his paintings. He was an upcoming artist and not being popular his paintings did not fetch a lot of money which was good for me as I could afford to buy one. But I was not interested in paintings depicting natural scenery, what I wanted was a portrait painting of me in hijab. So I asked the woman if the man living opposite me did portrait paintings and she replied that she did not know and that I could find out by asking him.

What surprised me was that in spite of being an outgoing and outspoken girl, I did not find the courage to approach the painter for a portrait for which I was prepared to pay a reasonable price. Many days passed and I realised that if I do not approach and ask him now I will never know whether he would paint my portrait. This was the first hurdle I had to cross. One day it was raining and I offered the painter my umbrella, he was grateful and when he came to my door to return it I offered him to come inside for a cup of tea and to my surprise he agreed. When I inquired about his work I was further surprised that he offered me to visit his flat and view his paintings. We agreed that I could go to his flat on Sunday and have a look at his paintings. I realised that after all he was not unfriendly; it was I who had wrongly prejudged him.

I was impressed by his paintings but my heart and soul was on portrait painting and so I asked if he did portrait painting. He replied that he used to and that this was his field of expertise in the past.  "Why did you stop portrait painting", I asked in curiosity. I was taken back by his reply "Because I am unlucky." "What do you mean by it?" I asked. "Well, the people whose portrait I had finished died soon after," was the reply.  "How?" I asked. "Well for various reasons, a child died in a car accident, a woman died of tuberculosis and a man died whilst swimming.

Now I am not a suppositious person although I do believe in destiny and the will of Allah (SWT). As my heart and soul was in being able to have my portrait done, I persisted and at last I managed to convince the painter to agree to do my portrait. Personally for me this was important as it will prove if I am still alive after the painting, that the events were mere coincidences and had nothing to do with the painter being unlucky.  Doubts slowly started creeping into my mind. What if the painter was really unlucky? I was the only child of my parents and I had so many ambitions to fulfil; getting my qualification, I hoped to married and have children. I started giving sadaka to various charities to ward off evil and for the protection of my life.

On the first day I posed for my portrait I knew that it would take several poses and months for the painter to get the job done. I had to abide by the painter's protocol and had to promise him that I would not look at the unfinished work as he preferred to show a finished product. He also made a suggestion that he would keep a mirror beside me and paint both my original face and as it would be reflected in the mirror and I was delighted by his suggestion.  I became anxious as the time for completion of the portrait approached.

On the day my portrait was to be unveiled, I offered duas and prayers. I stopped posing as the painter had to give some finishing touches to my potrait. My heart started pounding when it was the time to look at the portrait. No sooner I looked at the finished portrait the painter collapsed and died of heart attack. I realised that I was cheated from my death as the painter had not made my portrait but his own self-portrait and he was able to do this by looking at his reflection in the mirror. Was the painter really unlucky or was it a coincidence, him dying of heart attack? I shall keep on asking this question until my dying day.