Guardian inside my head -Jarif Hasin

Nobody knew when the insect first began living inside Shafaqat’s head. It did not crawl like an ant or buzz like a fly. It had no sharp legs and no loud wings. It was tiny, almost invisible, and it lived somewhere between his thoughts and his heart.

Shafaqat first noticed it on a warm afternoon when he was standing under a mango tree that did not belong to him. The mangoes were yellow and heavy, hanging low as if they were calling him. The gate was open. No one was around. The air felt quiet and secret.

He lifted his hand toward the nearest mango.

Tap.

He froze.

The sound was not outside. It was inside his head. Soft but clear.

Tap. Tap.

He blinked and pulled his hand back. The tapping stopped. In its place came a strange warmth in his chest, like sunlight spreading through him.

He walked away without the mango.

That night he lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Are you real, he wondered silently.

In his imagination he saw a tiny shining insect with silver wings sitting calmly inside his mind. It did not speak, but it seemed to watch him kindly. He decided to call it Conscience, though it never told him its name.

After that day, the insect became his quiet companion.

During a math test at school, he once forgot the answer to a difficult question. The boy next to him had written it clearly. The teacher was busy helping someone at the front. Just one look, Shafaqat thought. No one will know.

Tap.

The insect again.

He tried to ignore it and leaned slightly to the side.

Tap. Tap.

Stronger now.

His heart began to race. He remembered his mother saying that Allah sees everything, even the secrets hidden inside hearts. If he copied, maybe the teacher would not know, but Allah would.
He straightened his back and left the answer blank.

When the results came, he did not get full marks. For a moment he felt disappointed. But as he walked home, he felt peaceful. The insect was quiet, and that warm sunlight feeling returned.

Not every test was about school.

One evening he was playing football with a cousin whose name sounded like a shadow. During the game, Shafaqat pushed him too hard. The cousin fell and scraped his knee. He looked up with hurt eyes.

It was an accident, Shafaqat thought. I did not mean it. I can just stay silent.

Tap.

The insect reminded him.

He hesitated. No adult had seen clearly. He could pretend nothing happened.

Tap. Tap.

He felt a tightness in his chest. He remembered that the Prophet, peace be upon him, taught honesty and kindness. Saying sorry would not make him smaller. It would make him better.

He stepped forward and said softly, I am sorry. I pushed you.

The cousin nodded and smiled. It is okay. Let us be more careful.

The tightness disappeared. The insect settled back into its quiet place.

As he grew older, the choices became harder.

In middle school, a group of boys began teasing a quiet student with worn-out shoes. They laughed at his slow reading and strange accent. One day they pulled Shafaqat into their circle.

Say something funny, they urged. Join us.

He looked at the quiet boy and saw fear in his eyes. If he stayed silent, he might become the next target. If he joined them, they would accept him.

He opened his mouth.

Tap.

Soft but clear.

He paused.

Tap. Tap.

This time the sound felt heavier. He imagined the tiny insect standing like a guard at the door of his thoughts.

He closed his mouth and shook his head. Let us not tease him. It is not right.

Some boys laughed at him instead. Someone called him too serious. But the quiet student looked at him with grateful eyes. Later they studied together, and Shafaqat discovered he was actually very smart.

That night during Ramadan, after Taraweeh prayers, Shafaqat sat by the window. The sky was dark and filled with stars. He thought about the insect.

Why do you always stop me, he wondered.

The answer came as a feeling. Allah created every human with a heart that recognizes good and evil. The insect was not separate from him. It was a sign of mercy, a small light placed inside so he would not lose his way.

He remembered something his father once said. If you ignore your conscience too often, it becomes quiet. And when it becomes quiet, the heart becomes hard.

The idea of losing the tapping frightened him.

There were days when he did ignore it. Once he lied to avoid trouble. Another time he wasted time in things he knew were wrong. On those days the insect did not tap loudly. It simply became silent.
That silence felt cold.

But whenever he prayed sincerely and asked Allah for forgiveness, promising to do better, the tapping returned. Gentle. Alive. Hopeful.

Years later, a younger boy from the neighborhood came to him with worried eyes. I did something bad, he whispered. I feel strange inside my head.

Shafaqat smiled softly. Maybe there is a tiny insect living there.

The boy looked shocked. An insect?

Yes. It does not bite. It only taps when you are about to do something wrong.

The boy touched his forehead thoughtfully. Should I listen to it?

Shafaqat nodded. Always. It is one of the best friends Allah has given you.

And inside his head, the small shining insect fluttered its silver wings and gave the softest tap, as if it was happy that its secret was finally shared.