[Setting: A breezy evening in Riyadh. Faisal and Omar are sitting on a carpet in the courtyard, sipping Arabic coffee and munching dates.]
Faisal: (holding up a small cloth pouch around his neck)
You know, Omar, ever since I started wearing this taʿwīdh, I haven’t had a single headache. Not even during the last sandstorm! I’m telling you—these Quranic verses really protect.
Omar: (chuckles, sipping coffee)
Or maybe it was because you finally started drinking water like a human and not a camel.
Faisal: (grinning)
Wallah, I used to get headaches all the time. Then my uncle gave me this. He swears it saved his goats from the evil eye. They were losing weight mysteriously, and after he tied taʿwīdh on their pens—boom! Plump and happy goats.
Omar: (laughs)
Maybe your uncle’s goats just stopped eating plastic bags. You know animals eat whatever they find.
Faisal: (serious now)
You always joke, but the evil eye is real, Omar. My cousin’s wife posted a photo of her baby on Instagram, and the next day, the baby got a fever and wouldn’t stop crying. My aunt said someone must’ve had envy in their heart.
Omar:
Okay, I won’t deny that envy exists. But fevers? That could be a virus, not vibes. You ever hear of germs?
Faisal:
Sure. But why do things always happen right after someone compliments something too much? Like, “Mashallah, your car is beautiful,” and then you get a flat tire that same day?
Omar:
Because your car has cheap tires, Faisal! You can’t blame bad manufacturing on spiritual sabotage. Look, I get the comfort tradition brings. My mom still burns bukhoor when I’m sick. It smells nice. But that doesn’t mean it kills bacteria.
Faisal:
But Quranic verses are divine, bro. Surely they protect us? The Prophet ﷺ used ruqyah, didn’t he?
Omar:
Yes, but ruqyah was recited, not printed, folded, and worn like a lanyard. The idea was prayer and seeking God’s help directly—not outsourcing it to your shirt pocket.
Faisal: (squints)
So you’re saying taʿwīdh doesn’t work at all?
Omar:
I’m saying there’s no evidence it does. People who wear taʿwīdh still get sick, still lose jobs, still have flat tires. You don’t notice the failures, only the hits. It’s confirmation bias.
Faisal: (mock offended)
Next, you’ll tell me my lucky falcon ring doesn’t help me at work either.
Omar:
Only if you define “help” as “makes you look like a Game of Thrones character.” Look, I’m not attacking your beliefs. But don’t you think it’s better to protect your child with vaccines and hygiene than with a string of paper?
Faisal: (laughs, nodding slowly)
Okay, fair. But wearing this taʿwīdh gives me peace of mind. Is that so bad?
Omar:
No, not at all. Peace of mind is great. Just don’t stop using your actual mind, too. Like—use the amulet if you must, but maybe also use hand sanitizer?
Faisal:
So… faith and Dettol?
Omar: (smiling)
Exactly. Call it “spiritual hygiene.”
Faisal: (grinning)
Fine, fine. I’ll keep the amulet—but I promise I’ll stop blaming all my car troubles on my cousin’s compliments.
Omar:
Progress! Next step: vaccines without drama.
Faisal:
Don’t push it, Doctor Science. Let me finish my coffee first.
[They both laugh as the wind carries the scent of cardamom and evening desert air.]
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