Chapter 11b-The Silver Ring

The Desire, The Want

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A Search That Began Long Ago

Shehnaz had walked with her friends, through the streets of Makkah and Madinah with a specific mission: she was looking for a silver ring with a black stone. It was something she had always worn, something that carried weight far beyond its simple appearance.

Her father had bought her first silver ring with a black stone many years ago. It was circular and quite substantial, a piece that made a statement on her hand. She had worn it on and off for a very long time, and every time she slipped it onto her finger, she felt her father's presence. It reminded her of him—his strength, his love, his protection. When she wore it, she felt stronger herself, as if some of his resilience had been transferred through the metal.

For some time now, she had been searching for rings like that everywhere she went. People noticed her affinity for them. Even her dear friends had gifted her such rings over the years, each one special in its own way. Her ring box at home was filled with silver rings adorned with black stones, yet she kept hunting for more. It wasn't about collecting—it was about finding that feeling again, that connection, that strength.

Now that she was in the holy cities, she wanted one from here. A ring blessed by the very land where prophets walked, where prayers ascended directly to Allah. It felt right to search for one here.

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The Language Barrier

As they wandered through the city and explored the sprawling malls, Shehnaz scanned every jewelry store display, her eyes drawn to the glint of silver and the depth of black stones. Finally, she spotted one that called to her and stepped inside.

Behind the counter stood a charming young boy who, as it turned out, understood virtually no English. Undeterred, Shehnaz pointed to one of the rings and asked for details.

"Very good, very good!" he responded enthusiastically, nodding.

"Will it get scratched?" she asked, gesturing to the surface.

He looked puzzled. "Scratch?" he repeated, testing the unfamiliar word on his tongue. "Scratch?"

Shehnaz tried to demonstrate, using her fingernail to draw an imaginary line across the ring's surface. Still, understanding eluded him.

Then inspiration struck. The young man pulled out his phone and spoke to it- "SCRATCH," he said aloud as the Arabic meaning appeared on his screen. His face lit up with comprehension.

"No scratch, no scratch!" he assured her, shaking his head vigorously.

"How much?" Shehnaz asked, preparing herself for the answer.

"Around one hundred dollar," he replied.

Shehnaz turned to Nazia and Soni, who had been looking for abayas for their girls.When they heard the price their expressions said it all—that was far too expensive for what the ring was.

"Way too much," Nazia confirmed quietly.

Shehnaz thanked the young man and backed away from the counter, disappointed but resolved. She decided then to stop looking for rings. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be on this trip.

One More Shop

They completed the rest of their shopping and began the walk back to their hotel. That's when they passed another jewelry shop—Mohammed Bin AbdulAziz Jewellery, the sign read. It was still open, its windows gleaming with silver.

Shehnaz hesitated, but something pulled her in. They entered, and this time the owner spoke better English. Shehnaz asked to see silver rings with black stones.

"Right here," he said, gesturing to a display case. "Many varieties, many styles."

Shehnaz's eyes roamed over the collection. She asked which ones wouldn't scratch easily. He responded- "Those would cost anywhere from five thousand to seven thousand riyals."

Shehnaz's heart sank. That was completely out of her budget. She was about to leave when something caught her eye—a simple silver ring with no stone at all. But it had the same circular shape, the same substantial feel as her father's original ring.

"Can I see that one?" she asked.

The owner handed it to her, and she slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. The weight of it felt right, familiar, comforting.

"How much is this one?"

The owner pulled out a calculator and punched in some numbers, applying what appeared to be a discount. "Eighty dollars."

Shehnaz considered it for a moment, then reluctantly removed the ring and placed it back on the counter. "Let me think about it," she said.

They walked back to the hotel, the ring lingering in her mind.

The Final Day

The next day was their last in Madinah. They had a list of final errands—chocolates to buy, prayer mats, a duffle bag, ithar, and various last-minute items for friends and family back home. They headed to a nearby mall and worked through their list methodically, checking off each item.

As they made their way back to the hotel, they passed Mohammed Bin AbdulAziz Jewellery again. The shop was open, and the same gentleman stood at the counter. Their eyes met, and there was a moment of recognition.

They walked in. Shehnaz asked to see the ring again, the simple silver one with no stone.

The owner remembered. He pulled it out and placed it on the counter.

"Can you give us a better price?" Shehnaz reminded , her tone friendly but firm.

He considered for a moment, then nodded. "Seventy five dollars."

Nazia turned to Shehnaz and said. "We're getting this for you."

Nazia had made up her mind. While they were there, Nazia also picked up two delicate chains for hers and Soni's daughters, Imaanu and Aami. Each chain had the Arabic letter Alif (ا) hanging from it—the first letter of both girls' names. The girls loved to match in everything. Even if they weren't sisters, they were much more than that.

Meanwhile, Shehnaz's eyes wandered to two other rings, both simple silver bands with three parallel rows. One had filling in the first row, the other in the second row. In that moment, they became symbolic—one for her elder son, one for her second son. A subtle way to carry both of them with her, to remember them, to bind them together.

"I'll take these too," she told the shopkeeper.

He packaged everything carefully—three rings and two chains—placing them in small boxes before slipping them into a larger bag.

A Brief Connection

Before leaving, Shehnaz's curiosity got the better of her. "What's your name?" she asked the shopkeeper.

He told her his name and also added- "I am twenty-two years old."

"Are you studying?" Shehnaz asked thinking about her own kids.

"No," he said rather easily. "I am not studying."

"You should study," Shehnaz encouraged gently. "Education is important."

He shrugged, a resigned expression crossing his young face. "There is no purpose in studies."

"The more you study, the better opportunities you will have," Shehnaz insisted, her voice soft but earnest.

He smiled politely, the kind of smile that suggested he had heard this advice before and remained unconvinced.

"We're flying out tonight," Shehnaz said, sensing their conversation had reached its natural end. "Thank you for everything."

"Safe travels," he replied.

Carrying Home More Than Jewelry

Shehnaz and Nazia walked back toward the hotel, the small bag of jewelry in Shehnaz's hand felt so good. It was something precious.

No black stone this time, but that didn't matter. This ring had its own story now—a story tied to Madinah, to her last day in the blessed city, to Nazia's insistence on giving her this gift and so much more .

She thought about her father, about the original ring he had given her, about how she had been searching for replicas ever since. Maybe she had been looking for the wrong thing all along. Maybe it wasn't about finding an exact match—it was about finding pieces that carried new meaning, new memories, new connections.

This ring would remind her of this journey. Of walking the streets of Makkah and Madinah with her closest friends. Of the prayers whispered in the Harram. Of the spiritual renewal she had experienced. Of Nazia's generosity and love. Of the young man who helped her find what she needed, even if he didn't fully understand why it mattered.

As they reached the hotel and began their final preparations for departure, Shehnaz looked down at her hand. The ring sat there, simple and strong, just like the faith that had brought her to this place.

She wasn't just bringing home jewelry. She was bringing home a piece of the holy city, a tangible reminder that even in searching for what we have lost, we sometimes find exactly what we need.

From Desire to Reality

The silver ring—once just a longing, a hope to find something that reminded her of her father and made her feel strong—had become real. Not in the way she had originally imagined, but in a way that was perhaps even more meaningful.

It was a reminder that Allah answers our prayers, sometimes in unexpected forms. That what we seek isn't always what we need. And that the journey of searching can be just as important as what we find at the end.

Shehnaz touched the ring on her finger and whispered a quiet thank you—to Allah, to her father's memory, to her friends, to this blessed journey that had given her so much more than she had come looking for.