On a Date With Kalonji: A Short Revisit to Tibb-e-Nabwi

Shivering in the dark, absolutely confused as to why I was locked up here, I sighed. In spite of being perfectly healthy in warm surroundings, I had been left in this freezing cold.

“Uncultured woman. Why would you keep everything in a refrigerator?” I muttered. Who was I kidding? I was probably living my last few hours. She was almost here; the clatter  of Zarah’s cooking had started to hit my ears..

“Somebody take me out of here!” I yelled, tired. It was extremely stuffy.

“Can you shut up? We are trying to sleep!” K yelled back. Ah! Not this person again. We had bickered for quite some time last night, a re-match was the last thing on my mind.

“This is not the place for me.” I haughtily replied. And that was true.

K and I wanted to stay away from each other, unfortunately we were stuck on the same shelf of this hideous, stinking cold room. Why couldn’t one of us simply disappear? Why wasn’t Zarah taking me out of this place?

“Why? Do dates belong to the royal family?” Okay, so after fighting over not wanting to stay together, we were about to have some real arguments.

“Well I definitely don’t belong with Kalonji seeds.” Of course I didn’t. Those tiny little bland and boring beings; where was he getting all that superiority complex from?

“Oh your highness! May I know why?” K said cockily. Like I cared.

“I am rich.” I prepared myself to spit facts. Bring it on K.

“In sugar?” K’s laughter annoyed me.

Yeah my sugar content was high, I might be a little dangerous for people suffering with diabetes, but well, that could be excused given all my other wonderful benefits, right? Also, I am high in natural sugar which is an excellent substitute for all the disastrously unhealthy stuff they sell in the name of sugar in the market.

“In potassium and polyphenols! Do you know how important potassium is for your body? Wait, but you wouldn’t know you don’t have anything more than a black dot for a body. Must suck being a kala dhabba.”

Meanwhile, I could write a whole essay on how vital I was for human health.

“Poo..potafiam..Do you even know what that is?” K’s brother, baby K, chuckled. Oh wow, these fullstops are really bold for their size.

“It’s not my fault your minute brain can’t comprehend my words. I will try to explain it to you in a language you understand. Huh. About to do you a favour, mate.” I shrugged, satisfied at my comeback.

K was about to say something irrelevant as usual but I barged ahead,

“So potassium, not potafiam, is needed for heart health, you know how many people eat me for maintaining proper heart pumping? I also help reduce blood pressure. While people may eat me for my delicious taste, my polyphenols fight infections. Heart health, muscle health and nerve health, I maintain them all.” I was almost floating in the air, royally seated on cloud nine.

“Delicious?” Baby K’s laughter echoed throughout the fridge.

“Good for you bro. I don’t think you are in any way superior to me though. Yeah I don’t taste the best, but I do help people reduce their bad cholesterol, boost their metabolism and memory, and regulate blood circulation.” K calmly replied.

“Well, I am full of fibre! I aid in digestion and prevent constipation. Something that you cannot do.”  I stuck my tongue out.

“I am an immunity booster! My oil heals joint pains! And I help prevent diabetes. While you? You make it worse.”

Whoa! K was crossing his boundaries now.


“Wait! I have more. Didn’t Imam Muslim die due to an overdose of dates?” K seemed delighted with his taunt. He had a proud smirk on his face, while all I wanted to do was chew him alive and spit him out. Only if I could.

“That is an unconfirmed story.” I took in a deep breath and said. There was no point arguing, when both of us were breathing our last. Zarah could open the refrigerator any time now and eat either of us. It was time for her healthy snacking.

“The Prophet (peace be upon him) opened his fasts with me. You know why? Well, because not only do people feel energized and full after having me, I prevent them from overeating. But…”

K had something to add, I continued anyway.

 “The black seed can heal every disease, except death.”

I declared, sighing. Our Prophet (peace be upon him) had declared kalonji as a cure for everything, how dare I say anything further. K nodded his head in approval, our fierce argument almost meeting a peaceful end. Before we enjoyed each other’s friendly company though, the inevitable happened. Darkness engulfed me; I felt sharp edges pierce my body. This was it, I had forever left this world and my new found buddy, K.


For Dates-

For Kallaunji-



How Imām Muslim Died

Leave a Comment

Shopping Cart