The clock struck six. As scheduled, the guests came promptly that evening. However, due to a traffic jam, my parents arrived home half an hour later. That evening marked the first time our parents met. All was well or so I thought at first, based on the conversation that went over dinner. Then, the unexpected happened.

At around 7.45pm, an expression of displeasure marked her father’s face. By 8.00pm, he dropped a bomb on us and asked solemnly, “Are you all not praying Maghrib?” An eerie silence of death filled the air at that moment. My dad stutteringly asked the golden question, “Oh urr, you all want to pray eh? Urr… ok you all can pray in Din’s room. Urr… Siti please get them the prayer mat. Urr… you all pray first ok?” And swift as the wind, my dad excused himself and disappeared into his room.

Meanwhile, my mum was frenziedly ‘searching’ for the prayer mat, casting nervous looks behind her every now and then. Speechless and stunned, I stood rooted to the spot, not knowing what to do. My three guests were eyeing me from head to toe. My nightmare was just about to begin!

Realization dawned upon me at that very moment. I had a deflated feeling that the marriage between Shida and me might not see the light of day. Her dad, Mr Ahmad, ‘instructed’ me, “Din, you are praying with me.” I gingerly led him to my room, without Shida and her mom who were having their “off-days”. He hastened me to call the azan as soon as we were in the room. I momentarily froze.

Mustering every ounce of courage, I blurted, “Allahu akbar…. Allahu akbar…” and paused. My legs were literally shaking like a leaf. Still, I continued, “Allahu akbar… la ila ha illallahu wallahu akbar… Allahu akbar walillahil hamd..."

Mr Ahmad grudgingly corrected me. Overcome by the traumatic experience, I failed to continue. He then probed, “Are you seriously considering to be a husband to my daughter when you are not even serious about being a servant of Allah? Why did you still call the azan even though you do not know how to?”

“I’m sorry. I was trying to impress you but I was just overwhelmed with panic…” I explained meekly, like a little boy.

Then, Mr Ahmad said to me, word by word, softly yet super sternly. “I am not God. Do not impress me. Impress God!” Embarrassed but somewhat relieved, I hung my head low and dared not lift my head from that moment onwards. “It is late. We shall pray now and continue,” he called out to me. Little did I know that there was more in store for me.

As soon as we said our last supplication, he turned to me and the real “interview” began. “Recite Al-Fatihah!” he commanded. I stared in timid bewilderment at the figure in front of me and began reciting to the best of my ability.

“Aham dulila hirabil alamin. Araman nirahim. Maliki ya midin. Iya kana budu wa iya kana tain. Idina siratal mustakim. Siratal lazina am amta alahim. Roiri makedubi alahim wa ladallin. Amin.”

“Tell me truthfully, when did you last pray?” he asked in a calm and cool manner.

“Never did… as you witnessed; my whole family are not practising Muslims,” I answered sadly. Guilt edged my countenance.

“Thank you,” he said, and continued nonchalantly, “Your parents were boasting about you being ‘stable’ in terms of your academic qualification, the car you have, and how much you love my daughter. I’m here to tell you, man to man, you are not qualified.”

“Stable is when both your worldly affairs and the hereafter are balanced. Get a car which will drive both my daughter and yourself to heaven. If you love my daughter, stay away from her, and let me - the man who really love her all her life, find her another qualified man.”

Feeling defeated, tears of humility rolled down my cheeks. With a huge lump in my throat and with the last remaining ounce of courage I had, I muttered the words, “Is there any other way for me?”

His face was contorted with annoyance and sympathy. “I might give you the benefit of the doubt if you are ignorant, but not if you are arrogant.” he replied. “Go to REVAMP and learn the Basics of Solat and also how to recite the Quran and come back to me in 2 months’ time and we shall see.”

“There!” he pointed out to me the revamp.sg/return webpage on his smartphone. “Do it fast, because the next intake registration is closing soon!”

Check it out here.