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In FocusI refuse to be lost! Period! November 18 On Children's DayMeet the child of human race
How he's treated - sheer disgrace.
Sometimes well-fed, well-clothed he is
Though his soul still hungers for human bliss.
Sometimes no clothes, no food, no toys
A tiny little person, void of joys
Sometimes he manages to go to school
More often than not he's a working tool
Poverty, pollution, violence and war to survive,
Will such a grooming make your future thrive?
Wake up! Wake up! See this child's face!
Tattered and battered though now he is
Tomorrow he could be your saving grace.
Fancy days and celebrations won't change his plight
All he asks for is - 'Treat me right!'
I was to write a speech for my sister on 'Treat me right' (related to Child's rights) for an oration contest to be held on November 20, 2009. I wrote the above, thinking of giving the speech a rhyming start or end, wherever it better fits, and a bit more in prose based on some research, only to discover that her school won't be participating anymore.
November 07 An Article by Imran KhanWhy The West Craves Materialism & Why The East Sticks To Religion
By Imran Khan My generation grew up at a time when colonial hang up was at its peak. Our older generation had been slaves and had a huge inferiority complex of the British. The school I went to was similar to all elite schools in Pakistan. Despite gaining independent, they were, and still are, producing replicas of public schoolboys rather than Pakistanis. I read Shakespeare, which was fine, but no Allama Iqbal - the national poet of Pakistan. The class on Islamic studies was not taken seriously, and when I left school I was considered among the elite of the country because I could speak English and wore Western clothes.
Despite periodically shouting 'Pakistan Zindabad' in school functions, I considered my own culture backward and religion outdated. Among our group if any one talked about religion, prayed or kept a beard he was immediately branded a Mullah. Because of the power of the Western media, our heroes were Western movie stars or pop stars. When I went to Oxford already burdened with this hang up, things didn't get any easier. At Oxford, not just Islam, but all religions were considered anachronism. Science had replaced religion and if something couldn't be logically proved it did not exist. All supernatural stuff was confined to the movies. Philosophers like Darwin, who with his half-baked theory of evolution had supposedly disproved the creation of men and hence religion, were read and revered. Moreover, European history reflected its awful experience with religion. The horrors committed by the Christian clergy during the Inquisition era had left a powerful impact on the Western mind. To understand why the West is so keen on secularism, one should go to places like Cordoba in Spain and see the torture apparatus used during the Spanish Inquisition Also the persecution of scientists as heretics by the clergy had convinced the Europeans that all religions are regressive. However, the biggest factor that drove people like me away from religion was the selective Islam practiced by most of its preachers. In short, there was a huge difference between what they practiced and what they preached. Also, rather than explaining the philosophy behind the religion, there was an overemphasis on rituals. I feel that humans are different to animals. While, the latter can be drilled, humans need to be intellectually convinced. That is why the Qur'an constantly appeals to reason. The worst, of course, was the exploitation of Islam for political gains by various individuals or groups. Hence, it was a miracle I did not become an atheist. The only reason why I did not was the powerful religious influence my mother wielded on me since my childhood. It was not so much out of conviction but love for her that I stayed a Muslim. However, my Islam was selective. I accepted only parts of the religion that suited me. Prayers were restricted to Eid days and occasionally on Fridays, when my father insisted on taking me to the mosque with him. All in all I was smoothly moving to becoming a Pukka Brown Sahib. After all I had the right credentials in terms of school, university and, above all, acceptability in the English aristocracy, something that our brown sahibs would give their lives for. So what led me to do a 'lota' on the Brown Sahib culture and instead become a 'desi'? Well it did not just happen overnight.
Firstly, the inferiority complex that my generation had inherited gradually went as I developed into a world-class athlete. Secondly, I was in the unique position of living between two cultures. I began to see the advantages and the disadvantages of both societies. In Western societies, institutions were strong while they were collapsing in our country. However, there was an area where we were and still are superior, and that is our family life. I began to realize that this was the Western society's biggest loss. In trying to free itself from the oppression of the clergy, they had removed both God and religion from their lives. While science, no matter how much it progresses, can answer a lot of questions - two questions it will never be able to answer: One, what is the purpose of our existence and two, what happens to us when we die? It is this vacuum that I felt created the materialistic and the hedonistic culture. If this is the only life then one must make hay while the sun shines - and in order to do so one needs money. Such a culture is bound to cause psychological problems in a human being, as there was going to be an imbalance between the body and the soul. Consequently, in the US, which has shown the greatest materialistic progress while giving its citizens numerous rights, almost 60 percent of the population consult psychiatrists. Yet, amazingly in modern psychology, there is no study of the human soul. Sweden and Switzerland, who provide the most welfare to their citizens, also have the highest suicide rates. Hence, man is not necessarily content with material well being and needs something more. Since all morality has it roots in religion, once religion was removed, immorality has progressively grown since the 70s. Its direct impact has been on family life. In the UK, the divorce rate is 60 percent, while it is estimated that there are over 35 percent single mothers. The crime rate is rising in almost all Western societies, but the most disturbing fact is the alarming increase in racism. While science always tries to prove the inequality of man (recent survey showing the American Black to be genetically less intelligent than whites) it is only religion that preaches the equality of man. Between 1991 and 1997, it was estimated that total immigration into Europe was around 520,000, and there were racially motivated attacks all over, especially in Britain, France and Germany. In Pakistan during the Afghan war, we had over four million refugees, and despite the people being so much poorer, there was no racial tension. There was a sequence of events in the 80s that moved me toward God as the Qur'an says: "There are signs for people of understanding." One of them was cricket. As I was a student of the game, the more I understood the game, the more I began to realize that what I considered to be chance was, in fact, the will of Allah. A pattern which became clearer with time. But it was not until Salman Rushdie's "Satanic Verses" that my understanding of Islam began to develop.
People like me who were living in the Western world bore the brunt of anti-Islam prejudice that followed the Muslim reaction to the book. We were left with two choices: fight or flight. Since I felt strongly that the attacks on Islam were unfair, I decided to fight. It was then I realized that I was not equipped to do so as my knowledge of Islam was inadequate. Hence I started my research and for me a period of my greatest enlightenment. I read scholars like Ali Shariati, Muhammad Asad, Iqbal, Gai Eaton, plus of course, a study of Qur'an. I will try to explain as concisely as is possible, what "discovering the truth" meant for me. When the believers are addressed in the Qur'an, it always says, "Those who believe and do good deeds." In other words, a Muslim has dual function, one toward God and the other toward fellow human beings.
The greatest impact of believing in God for me, meant that I lost all fear of human beings. The Qur'an liberates man from man when it says that life and death and respect and humiliation are God's jurisdiction, so we do not have to bow before other human beings. Moreover, since this is a transitory world where we prepare for the eternal one, I broke out of the self-imposed prisons, such as growing old (such a curse in the Western world, as a result of which, plastic surgeons are having a field day), materialism, ego, what people say and so on. It is important to note that one does not eliminate earthly desires. But instead of being controlled by them, one controls them. By following the second part of believing in Islam, I have become a better human being. Rather than being self-centered and living for the self, I feel that because the Almighty gave so much to me, in turn I must use that blessing to help the less privileged. This I did by following the fundamentals of Islam rather than becoming a Kalashnikov-wielding fanatic.
I have become a tolerant and a giving human being who feels compassion for the underprivileged. Instead of attributing success to myself, I know it is because of God's will, hence I learned humility instead of arrogance. Also, instead of the snobbish Brown Sahib attitude toward our masses, I believe in egalitarianism and strongly feel against the injustice done to the weak in our society. According to the Qur'an, "Oppression is worse than killing." In fact only now do I understand the true meaning of Islam, if you submit to the will of Allah, you have inner peace. Through my faith, I have discovered strength within me that I never knew existed and that has released my potential in life. I feel that in Pakistan we have selective Islam. Just believing in God and going through the rituals is not enough. One also has to be a good human being. I feel there are certain Western countries with far more Islamic traits than us in Pakistan, especially in the way they protect the rights of their citizens, or for that matter their justice system. In fact some of the finest individuals I know live there. What I dislike about them is their double standards in the way they protect the rights of their citizens but consider citizens of other countries as being somehow inferior to them as human being, e.g. dumping toxic waste in the Third World, advertising cigarettes that are not allowed in the West and selling drugs that are banned in the West. One of the problems facing Pakistan is the polarization of two reactionary groups. On the one side is the Westernized group that looks upon Islam through Western eyes and has inadequate knowledge about the subject. It reacts strongly to anyone trying to impose Islam in society and wants only a selective part of the religion. On the other extreme is the group that reacts to this Westernized elite and in trying to become a defender of the faith, takes up such intolerant and self-righteous attitudes that are repugnant to the spirit of Islam. What needs to be done is to somehow start a dialogue between the two extreme. In order for this to happen, the group on whom the greatest proportion of our educational resources are spent in this country must study Islam properly. Whether they become practicing Muslims or believe in God is entirely a personal choice. As the Qur'an tells us there is "no compulsion in religion." However, they must arm themselves with knowledge as a weapon to fight extremism. Just by turning up their noses at extremism the problem is not going to be solved.
The Qur'an calls Muslims "the middle nation", not of extremes. The Holy Prophet (peace be upon him) was told to simply give the message and not worry whether people converted or not, therefore, there is no question in Islam of forcing your opinions on anyone else. Moreover, we are told to respect other religions, their places of worship and their prophets. It should be noted that no Muslim missionaries or armies ever went to Malaysia or Indonesia. The people converted to Islam due to the high principles and impeccable character of the Muslim traders. At the moment, the worst advertisements for Islam are the countries with their selective Islam, especially where religion is used to deprive people of their rights. In fact, a society that obeys fundamentals of Islam has to be a liberal one.
If Pakistan's Westernized class starts to study Islam, not only will it be able to help society fight sectarianism and extremism, but it will also make them realize what a progressive religion Islam is. They will also be able to help the Western world by articulating Islamic concepts. Recently, Prince Charles accepted that the Western world can learn from Islam. But how can this happen if the group that is in the best position to project Islam gets its attitudes from the West and considers Islam backward? Islam is a universal religion and that is why our Prophet (peace be upon him) was called a Mercy for all mankind. November 06 Celebrating DrivingI love driving. Although at least a quarter of the way on my route from home to my sisters’ schools to work in the morning and then back home in the evening comprises of broken and bumpy roads, I still love driving.
To drive around myself was once only a dream, a wish. Then God made it a necessity. When I started working in the mornings and going for classes in the evenings, it made me feel very guilty when my younger brother or my dad or my sister had to do my pick and drop routines, particularly when each trip was at least an hour long.
I therefore started asking my dad to teach me how to drive. Baba jaan would say, “To start, driving school’s classes are necessary. They have cars with double controls so it reduces the risk when a newbie begins to drive on the road. Plus, when would you learn? You have no time.”
He was right. I was working full time, 5 days a week and had 3 hours’ classes after work, 4 days a week. That left only Saturdays and Sundays out which already would have things-to-do lined up for them. I really had virtually no time.
But I HAD to learn how to drive. To keep my conscience, patience and therefore contentment intact, there was no way out.
Conscience, because if there is one thing I simply hate, is being a burden on others or causing anyone go through discomfort for something that I need to do. And dropping me to work in the morning, picking me from work and dropping me to IBA for classes in the evening and then picking me from IBA and taking me home at night were definitely a discomfort for my family, even if they never complained.
Patience, because 1) reaching IBA on time for classes was necessary or you would be marked absent and more than seven absences would result in a straight F in the course. So, whenever the clock struck 5 and my conveyance would not have arrived to pick me up from office, I would start getting worried, and then angry and then, since it was only kind of my father or brother to do the whole pick and drop duty for me, I would resort to using patience to do away with the anger because really, I had no place to be angry and 2) I would sometime have to wait after classes at night for anything between 10 to 30 minutes to be picked up for home. In some things, I’m really on-the-dot-driven and both the reasons above were among those things. So it was all really taxing on my patience.
Corrective measures were very much in order. I therefore embarked on a relentless pursuit of doing just that.
After taking my parents onboard, I got myself enrolled in a driving school that had pick-n-drop facility for its students. Since I had no substitutable time slot available for me all day long except for the lunch break at work, I scheduled my driving classes to be conducted during the lunch hour. The instructor would pick me up from my office at 1:00 PM, give me a 45 minutes lesson and then drop me back to office.
This way, step 1 towards being an independent driver was complete.
Relying on driving schools to be able to drive around on the busy, often broken roads of Karachi is not even near being enough; you always need to practice on your own. And so, practice I did. Initially, when I didn’t have my own car, my younger brother would reluctantly give me a 5 minutes opportunity to have a go at his car on a virtually empty road on our way home after my classes at night. I say reluctantly not because he didn’t want to help me practice but because he is always very careful about his car and me being not even a novice driver yet, obviously gave him the shudders for its safety. Since I’m so nice and sweet and careful about people and their belongings and their comfort (yada yada yada hehe), I too always felt extra cautious with his car. Not really fun to learn that way, if you know what I mean.
In order to practice fearlessly and to do so not at the expense of anyone but myself, I was determined to buy my own car. I had already been saving up to buy a car for months by then. After a couple of months more, and a little help from my dad, which I was determined not to take but took to return later, I had enough to afford a Mehran and it was bought.
Step 2 towards being an independent driver was now complete.
Then came the most important step – driving live, so to speak! I had the opportunity to have a full-swing experience under the supervision of my little brother (bless him for all his help). I say full-swing because the roads that I had my very initial driving practice on were none other but the jam packed streets of I.I. Chundrigar road, Zainab market and Impress market and sometimes the Sadar Mobile market. Again, may Allah bless my little brother for all his patience and help. If I am a cool, calm, completely-in-control driver today Alhamdulillah, it is because of the way my brother taught me.
After hardly a week of the above mentioned practice, I took my car alone for the first time, on a Sunday morning. I did dedicate a post to that experience here on my blog. I still remember it crystal clear, even the parts that I did not include in the post. Sweet memories, I would say.
Because it was once just a dream, then it became a need, then it was a goal and then it became a goal achieved, and because Allah put it in me to take a completely self-reliant route for the fulfillment of this goal which no one has taken in my family to date, I celebrate my driving every time I drive.
Alhamdulillah! Summa Alhamdulillah!
P.S. I never did record the purchase of my third car here, and for that I fear I will have hurt my car’s feelings (yes, my cars always have feelings, I insist!), let me record here that my third car was, and still is, a golden-brown, automatic Cuore and I bought it somewhere near end of April 2009. My earlier car, the white Cuore is still in my sister’s usage and I do pat her lovingly on the bonnet sometimes on my way out when she is parked in the middle garage. Terios Kid is still just a dormant desire. November 05 The Great Recitor of AlexandriaTranslator’s Note:
In sha’Allah, this message finds you all in the best state of health and iman. A long time ago, I was told of a great qari’ah, whom even men would travel for miles to hear her recite, learn from her and obtain her ijazah in one of the 10 qira’ahs. It was only mentioned in passing by the shaykh who was giving the lecture, and I tried, but failed to find out more about her. Now, Allah Subhanahu wa Ta’aala put her story in front of me without my looking. It was so beautiful, I wanted to share it in the hopes it will inspire you to strengthen your relationship with the Qur’an.
Umm Al Sa’ad Al Askandariyyah (of Alexandria)
After Umm Al-Sa’ad completed her memorization of the Quran at the age of 15 she went to the Shaykha Nafeesa bint Abu Al-Alaa, who was known as “The Shaykha of her time” to request from her to learn the 10 Qira’aat (recitations). Nafeesa agreed on a peculiar condition; that Umm Al-Sa’ad never marry. She used to refuse to teach girls because they would marry, become busy, and neglect the Quran.
What was even more amazing was that Umm Al-Sa’ad accepted the condition from her Shaykha who was known for her strictness and harshness against those whom she did not feel were proper for this honorable task. But Umm Al-Sa’ad was encouraged by the fact that her Shaykha herself had never married, even though there were many of the great scholars who had sought her hand, and she died in that state while in her eighties, having secluded herself to the Quran!
Umm Al-Sa’ad said,
And what proved her unique status was that she was the only woman to whom reciter and huffadh of the Quran would travel to receive ijaaza in the ten qira’aat.
Umm Al-Sa’ad Ali Najm,age 77, is considered to be the most well known woman in the world of recitations of the Quran. The only woman to specialize in the ten qira’aat, she has spent over fifty years granting ijaazas in the ten qira’aat. Waves of people could be seen entering and leaving her humble apartment, students who dreamed of memorizing the Quran, comprised of different age groups and both genders. Classes for the women and girls would begin from 8 AM until 2 PM after which the classes for men and boys would start until 8 PM. Umm Al-Sa’ad would continue all day with no breaks except for salah and a light meal to sustain her.
Umm Al-Sa’ad was born into a poor family in a town called Bandaariya, one of the towns of the larger city Munofiya (north of Cairo). She was afflicted by blindness shortly after her first year and, as was the practice of many in rural areas in dealing with blindness, her family sent her to learn the Quran. She completed her memorization in Alexandria at the age of 15. She then completed the memorization of the ten recitations of the Quran from Shaykha Nafeesa when she had reached the age of 23.
Umm Al-Sa’ad mentioned that when she had completed her memorization of the qira’aat the number of huffaadh were few. Families used to request from her, as they had requested from her Shaykha before her, to recite Quran for them at occasions and religious festivals. It was acceptable at that time for a woman to recite the Quran with tajweed in the presence of men who- as she recounted- used to praise her recitation and the beauty of her tajweed.
She mentioned however that this practice disappeared after Quranic recitors became widespread, as well as the spread of radios and televisions, and the most that could be done by a female recitor now is to recite at occasions that were female only. She believed that the real reason for this however was the belief that had increased in the recent years that the voice of the woman is awrah.
Many different types of people would return to her, seeking the completion of the Quran or ijaazah in a Qiraa’ah, from all ages and levels in society. In a day she would teach old and young students, men and women, engineers, doctors, teachers, university professors, college students, high school students, etc.
She would single out for each student a time, not more than an hour in a day, in which the student would recite what they had memorized and she would correct their mistakes bit by bit, until they memorize the Quran in one of it’s qira’aat.
Umm Al-Sa’ad once commented:
Her students
When asked about her students Umm Al-Sa’ad said:
The happiest days for Umm Al-Sa’ad are the days of khatma, when she would grant a student an ijaaza, even though she has experienced this day over 300 times! She keeps a copy of every ijaaza, the most recent one being to a sister in the recitation of Qaloon from Nafi’.
On the day of khatma, a waleema is normally done, or a tea party with sweets. The student who is receiving the ijaaza normally gives a gift to the Shaykha; a jilbab, a ring, golden earrings, all according to what they can afford. As for the most beautiful gift that the Shaykha received was a Hajj and Umrah trip accompanied with being hosted in Saudia for an entire year! The best part of the trip, after the hajj and umrah, was that she reviewed the Quran, and granted ijaazas in all ten recitations to students from all over the world; Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Sudan, Palestine, Lebanon, Chad, Afghanistan…
The most beloved of those ijaazas that she granted was to a student from Saudi Arabia who received it when she was seventeen years old!
Jealousy
And from the most interesting things that Umm Al-Sa’ad recounts is that some of the wives of her students became jealous and fearful that she might “snatch” their husbands. Especially since their husbands would continually speak about their Shaykha with pride and endearment. To the extent that some of the wives would accompany their husbands to the class to ensure that their fear had no real cause, for the Shaykha was old and blind!
Marriage?
When she was asked about the closest student to her, she replied “My husband, Shaykh Muhammad Fareed Nu’man.”
Shaykh Muhammad Fareed, who- before his death some years ago-was the most well known recitor on Alexandria radio. He was also the first one to receive an ijaaza from Umm Al-Sa’ad.
She said about the story of her marriage,
She was married to him for forty years and had no children.
But she had students who were huffadh and recitors of the Quran, so all praise is due to Allah.
She commentated on that saying,
Source: http://growmama.com/?p=502
October 29 Wondering Chin in Hands if He Loves MeOctober 26 Life's HappeningLife’s happening… all around me!
One of my friends had been wanting to go for Hajj for a year and was saving and planning for it and her parents were very much up for it with her too. So they filled in and submitted their applications to a no-frills-attached Hajj operator and two days from today, they’ll be flying to the Holy Land.
I know someone who was in love with a guy, and on one instance she had told me that it had been ten years that they liked each other. (They must have started out really early, because the female was hardly over her mid-twenties.) Fate had it, the female was a Muslim and the guy was a Christian. Earlier this year, the guy converted to Islam. Somewhere around mid-year they got married and now they are living happily together, planning and taking steps for their future.
One of my school friends also fell in love with a Christian fellow. It took them around three years to move from being involved to getting engaged and now they are set to be married early next year. This guy too converted to Islam, and although he had expressed his willingness to do so from quite the beginning, it was my friend’s father who took his time to finally accept his daughter’s wish.
Another one of my friends fell in love with a guy who was not the same caste as hers, though a Pakistani and a Muslim he very much was. After a bit of resistance from both sides, they got engaged. Earlier this year they were happily married. And now they anxiously and lovingly look forward to have their first child who with the blessings of the Almighty is on his/her way.
I know a lady - generally very sweet and very fond of all things beautiful. Fate had it that one of her sons fell in love with a female who suffered from vitiligo. Being so very fond of outward beauty and aesthetics, the lady could not accept his choice. (I saw the female in pictures and I think she is beautiful, with the well-set features that the Almighty has blessed her with.) Say what his mother may, the guy had chosen her to be his wife and partner, and would not give in to any argument posed. Eventually, the mother gave in. They are now engaged to be married soon. (Might I add, I never expected an act of such nobility and non-superficiality from this dude.). May Allah bless their soon-to-be-tied knot.
I became friends with a guy who fell in love with a female from a different religious sect. The guy is a Shia and the female a Sunni. They too had to fight and push their way through all the resistances and arguments. They eventually got through, an engagement took place, the female then flew off abroad to earn a Master’s degree while the guy finished his MBA here. Few months back, they tied the knot and are living happily today, supporting each other in each other’s families.
There is another guy I know, in the friends’ circle, so to speak, who is engaged to be married to the love of his life with the start of next year Allah willing. And though he keeps hush hush about it, I can clearly tell he’s ecstatic to be with his lady love after all.
There is a guy in my workplace who met, fell in love and got engaged with a female, again in my workplace. And they will be having their white-gown wedding (as both of them are Christians) early next year. May joy be there in their union as well.
And there are many more, with happy endings to the Bachelor chapter of their lives. And there are some, who are still struggling and finding their way. May Allah help them through.
Is weddings and having children all that life can be happening with? Obviously, no. I did mention my friend going for Hajj, and there is another who too shall be embarking on the sacred journey Allah willing. And there must be so many things that other people are doing, learning, contributing, or earning. Is it my fault that I don’t know about them at the moment to include them in my mind’s wanderings of “life’s happening all around me”?
The point is, it is great to know about things working out for people! About things HAPPENING for people! I can’t help but feel the joy of all such people at a very personal level who aim for something, and strive for it and eventually make it through. And I’m particularly, particularly happy for those who want to be united in holy matrimony and despite resistances and difficulties, make it through. (May all forms of joy and peace and bliss be upon you all!) And I’m sure that behind those things happening, there is some form of struggling.
Every one of us has our own personal battles to fight. Each one of us has those drowning moments when we feel being sucked into a black hole and nothing but pessimism makes sense to us. But it is they who rebound from the depths of such despair and fight back who make it through.
Some of us are lucky enough to have someone to pull them out of this black hole while some of us just have themselves to do it. There are even some, who have someone to pull them out but they still have to do it themselves. Because, sometimes, no one can save you, unless you want to be saved yourself and make some solid effort to help those trying to help you, help you.
Some battles are wholly personal, and it is you and only you who can help you through. Some need the power of two, and in matters of two, one just cannot do. All matters of love and marriage and spouses and partnerships, (which I realize have been the primary focus in this post) are essentially a matter of two. Though some are delude themselves into believing otherwise – it is just that, a delusion! Observation of numerous cases around me has led me to believe that, divinity and fate aside, only such cases fail, pre- or post-marriage, where at least one of the two bows out and gives it up.
So yes, again, the point is – Life’s happening … all around me!
To all those for whom it’s happening good-ly, cheers! May Allah’s blessings be in it with you.
To all of us for whom it’s happening badly, or not so good-ly or not-at-all, May Allah help us through!
Ameen!
October 24 An Unhealthy PostMy mind is full of so many things that I want to write about, good and bad, but try as I might, I fail.
It’s like a fine piece of abstract art, it is very much there in existence, it is very much transmitting its feeling, its message, its mood to me, but every time I attempt describing it, I either fail altogether, or what I utter is not quite right or sufficient. I started two stories and never got to finish them. I started three articles, and they too lie unfinished. I began taking Arabic classes, and couldn’t take them all the way to the end of the curriculum. I wrote an article for Dawn and was welcomed to write more, and also finalized a topic for my next article with the editor, but it’s been months and I haven’t written it. And not a day passes by when I remember it and tell myself I HAVE to do it. And I have still not done it. I wanted to pursue a part-time teaching career in a university, and I haven’t started that pursuit yet. I wanted to write about religion, family, friends, love, marriage, and a lot on racism and ethnic strife than I already have… but I haven’t. I want to be regular in Tahajjud and wake up for Fajar and witness dawn every day… but I haven’t been able to do that either. I have been wanting to pursue investment avenues, in gold or forex or stock, or anything to be able to play a part, as small as it maybe, by keeping the money in circulation in the system, as little as I may have, and not in a bank account where it’s useless… but I haven’t been able to do that either. There are just so many obstacles, both of my own doing and imposed by external factors... I feel like such a failure! And no! I'm not a procrastinator! And I am not even fond of sleeping and I'm not lazy and I don't use the word 'busy' for myself ever!
I'm just.... scattered! Unhealthy!
September 12 All that is Allowed
He sat against a majestic white marble pillar, one of the many in that sacred place. Cross-legged, straight-backed, hands tied together in a knot in his lap, head resting on the pillar behind, eyes gazing now towards the tranquil sky above, now towards the black and gold draped House in front, he sat there, reminiscing on all that he had left behind for a fortnight - A lovely wife, three handsome sons and a beautiful daughter, wealth not befitting a king but sufficient for a well-off life… yet, peace was not to be found within his soul. Thus he came this far from his home to His Home. In his silent reverie, and the thoughts of home and family, some distant corner of his mind was trying to register how for the first time he saw no people in that sprawling compound that was always packed with hundreds and thousands of them… but he had much swimming in his head to register anything unusual. The most he was aching for was his daughter; pained she was, by the un-bliss of marital life - a life that he had chosen for her, so carefully, so painstakingly along with his wife. She looked so beautiful that night, his daughter. The first time she got dressed nearly like a bride, the night he had thrown a lavish reception for his only daughter’s engagement. An engagement that was not fated to culminate into marriage… Tears brimmed in his eyes, rolled down his cheeks, and disappeared in his beard. As he blinked slowly, tightly, to squeeze the tears out, again his senses tried to make him notice the unusual silence around… and the sky that was almost aglow in the dark of the pre-dawn night. And the white doves that flew high in the glowing sky… ‘Do the doves not sleep at night?’, but he blinked the query away as his mind shifted to thoughts of his son. The eldest of his children, his right arm, his young man! He was doing well so far, but now that he had come of age for marriage and his mother was prospecting for his bride, he was asking for a choice of his own. The girl he was asking for was good and well-groomed, but she was not of the same race, not the same clan. Did he not understand how important that was? Did he not trust his own parents with his life’s decision? ‘You daughter’s life’s decision was yours as well!’ He sat-up, startled! Who said this? Was he talking out loud in his reverie? Who knows him or his life here to have made a comment like that? For the first time he looked around and registered that there wasn’t a soul around in this sacred compound at this time of year, Ramadan, when millions mark their attendance here. He now actively registered how the expansive courtyard was vacant and white and shining, how the air was cool and breezy while there was no breeze, how the doves were silently flying in and out of view, how the sky was aglow… all in the otherwise dark of the night. A sense of strange peace began to overtake him… His mind started echoing the word ‘sakeena’ – the peace and tranquility that descends on one’s soul while reciting the Qur’an rhythmically just for the pleasure of Allah. But… he wasn’t reciting the Qur’an! ‘I know, you were only thinking about your family.’ This time, he clearly heard someone speak out his mind! And true it was, a man did speak! An old man, in a flowing white robe, with flowing white, sparkling hair and beard sat to his right, round the same pillar he was leaning against - a wooden cane lying by his side. As he turned around to look at him and began to open his mouth to say something, the old man gave him an understanding smile, “Let’s just say, I’m a friend!” “But I’ve never even seen you before!” ‘But I have seen you coming here, almost every other year.’ He wanted to say more, ask more but as he looked into the old man’s eyes, he forgot all about it. He felt like the old man had always known him inside out and that he was going to help him find peace. He began to relax. Resting his head back against the pillar, he peacefully resigned to the old man’s counsel. ‘I wanted the best for my daughter. I tried so hard!’ he sighed. ‘All good parents want the best for their children. Sometimes, they get carried away.’ ‘But we chose wisely, carefully. He seemed like a good guy, and he was family. His mother is just not letting him be!’ ‘How different is that from the way you were with your wife years back, when you couldn’t decide who to protect and who to please?’ ‘How could I take sides? It was my mother! Wasn’t I supposed to take care of her and obey her?’ ‘Then why blame your daughter’s husband? Is his not a mother, and old and widowed at that?’ The old man did have a point. He became silent. The old man continued, like an affectionate father. ‘The man who loses his sense of justice causing one party or the other to be hurt is unwise and unlucky. And the mother who loses sense of difference between loving her children and possessing them is also unwise and unlucky. In a way, they are no different from you and your mother. Perhaps it is the Lord’s way to make you realize what you let happen while being capable of avoiding it.’ ‘But why my daughter!? Why should she be punished for what I let happen?’ ‘Because she is from you, and her pain is your pain, and the only way for you to realize its gravity is this.’ ‘Then there is nothing I can do about it?’ ‘You can repent. Seek forgiveness from your Lord, and although your wife asks for nothing, tell her you are sorry for those years of endurance that you put her through. And maybe God will turn your daughter’s pain into pleasure.’ He fell silent again… Could this really be it? Is that how God completes the circle of life? “It’s worth a try!” said the old man with a gentle smile, reading his thoughts again. He took a deep breath, diving into more thoughts, knowing full well by now that the old man will read them. He wanted them to be read. He wanted them to be answered to. He had always tried to be good to his Lord. He was honest, didn’t cheat anyone, didn’t steal, stayed away from usury, gave much charity, took care of his brothers and sisters, was good to his wife and children… couldn’t a mistake he made in ignorance years back be forgiven without causing so much remorse? Don’t people happily get away with worse crimes in their lives? “While we are alive, God only shows the mirror to those of us who can see the reflection in it.” ‘And what about my son? How do I settle that problem?’ he asked the old man almost impatiently. The old man picked up his cane and began to get up. He walked around with his cane and standing in front of him said: Without waiting for a reply from him, the old man turned around and began to walk. He quickly got up to follow him, fearing to have his conversation left incomplete. He hadn’t found all his answers yet. What did he mean by what he just said? There was much he had yet to ask. But the old man was walking with magnificent strides for his age and cane. He was following him as fast as he could, but suddenly people started appearing in the way. It was as if they were popping up from oblivion. He bumped with a tall, fair, green-eyed man in ehraam. He said sorry and pushed forward. Again he bumped into someone black. He was losing sight of the old man. All those millions of people who were supposed to be there suddenly started reappearing, some running round in tawaaf and some walking, some prostrating, some bowing, some sitting and reciting some standing and praying, some black, some white, some yellow, some European, some Asian, some African, some American, some Australian, some tall, some short, some beautiful, some not so becoming… he pushed his way through all of them to get to the old man but the old man had disappeared! While sifting through all those different faces for the old man’s face, he suddenly realized what the old man meant by what Allah has allowed… ‘Every year I come here in submission. I come here acknowledging that the Owner of this House owns me. That no matter how pained I am, here, I will have peace. I KNOW that if I beg to Him here, He will help me. And yet, while I accept all that He has forbidden, I don’t accept all that He has allowed. I ask Him for help when the decisions I have made turn into a mess. But I don’t agree with all His commands when I am out to make my decisions.’ ‘I come here every year to witness how His people don’t belong to one country, one caste, one clan. But I go back to limit my people to one caste, one clan, one community, as if my kingdom is more distinguished than His. I limited my kingdom from amongst His Kingdom for my daughter. Not once, not twice, but thrice, and still I could not give her joy. I am limiting it again, for my son. ’ ‘Allah-u-Akbar… Allah-u-Akbar…’ suddenly came the sound of the moazzin’s call. ‘Indeed, Allah is Great!’ he thought, tears brimming in his eyes… ‘What goes around comes around! Again and again, He is showing me signs. Test after test He is sending my way to open my heart to Him. Open all of myself to Him.’ ‘Allah-u-Akbar… Allah-u-Akbar…Ash-hadu alla ilaha ill-Allah’ He felt his heart unknot, ‘Indeed! I bear witness that there is no god except Allah!’ his tears rushing out like never before. ‘He knows that I recite His words. He knows that I sit in gatherings gathered for Him. He knows that I keep coming back here for Him. And, He knows that I am still partial in my acceptance of Him.’ He cried with flooding tears, wetting his beard, without a care if anyone saw him. For him, it was a moment of acceptance, of realization, of submission… of freedom! This time he was going to go back as a changed man. He was going to embrace all that Allah has allowed!
August 21 Couldn't Agree MoreLoosers all the way!Why is it that the females who DON'T wear the hijab know EXACTLY how a hijabi should look, what a hijab is supposed to do and why it is to be worn?
August 05 'Sensitive' Issue?Ethnic and provincial discrimination is something that I have never been able to drive home. I have written against it many times, voiced my agitation and objection to it on any given platform and acted contrary to its dictates all my life.
I remember playing a Punjabi part in a tableau in kindergarten, and after that whenever I participated in a national song tableau, I was always selected to represent the province of N.W.F.P. – a Pathan, which by origin and looks and language I actually am. All those years of schooling and Independence Day celebrations and tableaus taught me, like it did all other children, that our country is Pakistan, and that Pakistan has four beautiful provinces with their distinct ways of food and dress and that we have a little portion in the disputed territory of Kashmir and that we are all one nation. And I learned and accepted and believed it all – painfully contrary to the norm.
Growing older, I came to realize that the four provinces were not all – there were many other types of cultures and people. Urdu-speaking, Saraiki, Makrani, Bengali, Memon etc. I also realized that neither these nor the provinces were unified entities. For example, Urdu speaking people have further sub-communities depending on where in India their ancestors hailed from – e.g. those hailing from Delhi have become a community called ‘Delhi-walas’ and they don’t mingle with any other community. Likewise there are Lucknow-walas and Bihari and so on. Similarly Memons are not a unified entity – they too discriminate amongst themselves on the basis of origin and do not generally mingle across communities. Similarly Pathans are not a unified entity – they also discriminate amongst themselves based on geographical origin and language dialect, and prefer not to mingle across their own exact subdivision. These are some examples that I know of from personal experiences. And I have no fantasy that there might not be such sub-divisions and discrimination in other cultures.
As a child, I used to think this social ailment of ethnic discrimination was only something that Pathans suffer from since I would often observe how elders in the household and from extended family would use words, with sarcasm, like ‘Punjabis’ or ‘Muhajirs’ or ‘Changar’ for non-Pathans. I was soon to realize that it is a common disease amongst all – everyone suffers from the ‘holier than thou’ plague.
I gradually started learning that patriotism was not the only glue that should have kept us together as one nation. There was, and still is, something much stronger and much more meaningful than that in our possession; a super-glue called Islam. If we are to follow the specifications for usage of this glue, not just we Pakistanis are one nation, but all the Muslims in the entire world are one nation – a nation chosen to teach good and stop from evil.
“You are the best nation (because) you have been chosen for people. You enjoin that which is good and stop from that which is bad.” (Qura’n: Chapter Al-Imran, verse 110, part 4) Even if we weren’t Muslims, we should have taken heed from the west which, by material standards, is doing far better than us. Do they discriminate amongst each other so much as well? There might be inter-state distinction amongst the Americans, for example, but we have never hear of them calling themselves anything but Americans. They do have the problem of racism, but that too is looked down upon in their media and gatherings, especially given the fact that there are so many mixed marriages and their recent president is half-black. Texans and Californians, for example, may have different accents but we never hear of them calling themselves separate nations. They always call themselves Americans and we certainly never hear of any minority or further subdivision amongst them demanding a separate state.
One may argue that it is not because of the way U.S. citizens are, but that the political system there is not unjust in its dealings with the states and so on. Are systems not made up of people and by people? Even if for argument sake it is accepted that there is some invisible power called ‘system’ that sets everything right or wrong, how would we justify the demands of our so-called leaders fueled entirely by ethnic prejudices, not even remotely aimed at correcting the ‘system’? The Saraikis for example, demand for a separate Saraiki province because they think that is the only solution to their problems. The political groups in Balochistan demand rights for Balochis, not Pakistanis. The Urdu speaking community led by the misled Altaf Hussain places claims on Karachi and not on Pakistan. How often have we heard this great leader, spending his life in an asylum in a foreign land, not having the guts to return to his country, call his followers to ‘unite for Karachi’ more than for Pakistan? Then there is the government in N.W.F.P which thinks the solution to all its problems lies in renaming the province to Pakhtunistan. Which of these movements seems aimed at correcting the ‘system’ or strengthening Pakistan? None of them have anything to do with prosperity, equitable allocation of resources, or national progress. They are all excuses to mask their ethnic prejudices.
Despite all our own shortcomings and follies, we have the temerity to make hue and cry that India is busy plotting against us and that the U.S is encroaching upon our territory with its drones and that Afghanistan has never accepted Durand line as an international border and is always messing up within our territories with its Kalashnikov and heroin and now Taliban culture.
Who would dare to meddle with a bee hive knowing that if perturbed, all the bees fight back TOGETHER though a lone bee is an easy prey?
Who remembers the story in which the father teaches his children to stay united by demonstrating to them that the wood stalks tied together could not be broken but when taken alone, each was easy to break?
No one!
We have given our prejudices such a divine stature that we are afraid of even voicing the issue in personal and social gatherings and on public forums. Cultural and provincial discrimination creates hurdles in our everyday lives - in our choice of family friends, in our marriages, in our street crickets, in our business preferences, in our loyalties, in our institutions, in our student bodies and of course in our national politics – And yet we shouldn’t talk about it because it is a ‘sensitive’ issue and people get offended easily?
How much longer will we keep nursing the vice for fear of people’s feelings getting hurt? When will we realize that the first step towards the solution is defining the problem itself?
A thief would never like being called a thief, but that does not relieve him of his crime. If truth is what hurts, then let it hurt! It’s about time we bleed our fingers in plucking the roses. August 04 Priests and Preachers Embracing IslamNote: Following is an account by Yusuf Estes of how he embraced Islam. I'm copying it from the Newsletter of the First Annual Islamic Convention of Masjid Noor-ul-Islam San Fransisco held in December 2004. It is long, but very interesting. Do read till the end.
"I was born into a very strong Christian family in the Midwest. Our family and their ancestors not only built the churches and schools across this land, but actually were the same ones who came here in the first place.
While I was still in elementary we relocated in Houston, Texas in 1949 (I'm old). We attended church regularly and I was baptized at the age of 12 in Pasadena, Texas. As a teenager, I wanted to visit other churches to learn more of their teachings and beliefs. The Baptists, Methodists, Episcopalians, Charismatic movements, Nazarene, Church of Christ, Church of God, Church of God in Christ, Full Gospel, Agape, Catholic, Presbyterian and many more. I developed quite a thirst for the "Gospel" or as we say; "Good News." My research into religion did not stop with Christianity. Not at all. Hinduism, Judaism, Buddhism, Metaphysics, native American beliefs were all a part of my studies. Just about the only one that I did not look into seriously was "Islam". Why? Good question. Anyway, I became very interested in different types of music, especially Gospel and Classical. Because my whole family was religious and musical it followed that I too would begin my studies in both areas. All this set me for the logical position of Music Minister in many of the churches that I became affiliated with over the years. I started teaching keyboard instruments in 1960 and by 1963 owned my own studios in Laurel, Maryland, called "Estes Music Studios."
Over the next 30 years my father and I worked together in many business projects. We had entertainment programs, shows and attractions. We opened piano and organ stores all the way from Texas and Oklahoma to Florida. I made millions of dollars in those years, but could not find the peace of mind that can only come through knowing the truth and finding the real plan of salvation. I'm sure you have asked yourself the question; "Why did God create me?" or "What is it that God wants me to do?" or "Exactly who is God, anyway?" "Why do we believe in 'original sin?" and "Why would the sons of Adam be forced to accept his 'sins' and then as a result be punished forever. But if you asked anyone these questions, they would probably tell you that you have to believe without asking, or that it is a 'mystery' and you shouldn't ask. And then there is the concept of the 'Trinity.' If I would ask preachers or ministers to give me some sort of an idea how 'one' could figure out to become 'three' or how God Himself, Who can do anything He Wills to do, cannot just forgive people's sins, but rather and had to become a man, come down on earth, be a human, and then take on the sins of all people, keeping in mind that all along He is still God of the whole universe and does as He Wills to do, both in and outside of the universe as we know it.
Then one day in 1991, I came to know that the Muslims believed in the Bible. I was shocked. How could this be? But that's not all, they believe in Jesus as:
• a true messenger of God; • prophet of God; • miracle birth without human intervention ; • he was the 'Christ' or Messiah as predicted in the Bible; • he is with God now and most important ; • He will be coming back in the Last Days to lead the believers against the 'Antichrist.' This was too much for me. Especially since the evangelists that we used to travel around with all hated Muslims and Islam very much. They even said things that were not true to make people afraid of Islam. So, why would I want anything to do with these people? My father was very active in supporting church work, especially church school programs. He became and ordained minister in the 1970s. He and his wife (my stepmother) knew many of the TV evangelists and preachers and even visited Oral Roberts and helped in the building of the "Prayer Tower" in Tulsa, OK. They also were strong supporters of Jimmy Swaggart, Jim and Tammy Fae Bakker, Jerry Fallwell, John Haggi and the biggest enemy to Islam in America, Pat Robertson.
Dad and his wife worked together and were most active in recording "Praise" tapes and distributing them for free to people in retirement homes, hospitals and homes for the elderly. And then in 1991 he began doing business with a man from Egypt and told me that he wanted me to meet him. This idea appealed to me when I thought about the idea of having an international flavor. You know, the pyramids, sphinx, Nile River and all that. Then my father mentioned that this man was a 'Moslem.' I couldn't believe my ears. A 'Moslem?' No way! I reminded my dad of the various different things that we had heard about these people, how they are terrorists; hijackers; kidnappers; bombers and who knows what else?
Not only that but: • They don't believe in God • They kiss the ground five times a day and • They worship a black box in the desert. No! I did not want to meet this 'Moslem' man. No way! My father insisted that I meet him and reassured me that he was a very nice person. So, I gave in and agreed to the meeting. But on my terms!
I agreed to meet him on a Sunday after church so we would be all prayed up and in good standing with the Lord. I would be carrying my Bible under my arm as usual. I would have my big shiny cross dangling and I would have on my cap which says: "Jesus is Lord" right across the front. My wife and two young daughters came along and we were ready for our first encounter with the 'Moslems.' When I came into the shop and asked my father where the 'Moslem' was, he pointed and said: "He's right over there." I was confused. That couldn't be the Moslem. No way.
I'm looking for a huge man with flowing robes and big turban on his head, a beard half way down his shirt and eyebrows that go all the way across his forehead. This man had no beard. In fact, he didn't even have any hair on his head at all. He was very close to bald. And he was very pleasant with a warm welcome and handshake. This didn't make sense. I thought they are terrorists and bombers. What is this all about? Never mind. I'll get right to work on this guy. He needs to be 'saved' and me and the Lord are going to do it. So, after a quick introduction, I asked him: "Do you believe in God?"
He said: "Yes." (Good!) Then I said: "Do you believe in Adam and Eve?" He said: "Yes." I said: "What about Abraham? You believe in him and how he tried to sacrifice his son for God?" He said: "Yes." Then I asked: "What about Moses?" "Ten Commandments?" "Parting the Red Sea?" Again he said: "Yes." Then: "What about the other prophets, David, Solomon and John the Baptist?" He said: "Yes." I asked: "Do you believe in the Bible?" Again, he said: "Yes." So, now it was time for the big question:"Do you believe in Jesus? That he was the Messiah (Christ) of God?" Again the said: "Yes." Well now: "This was going to be easier than I had thought." He was just about ready to be baptized only he didn't know it. And I was just the one to do it, too. I was winning souls to the Lord day after day and this would be a big achievement for me, to catch one of these 'Moslems' and 'convert' him to Christianity. I asked him if he liked tea and he said he did. So off we went to a little shop in the mall to sit and talk about my favorite subject: Beliefs. While we sat in that little coffee shop for hours talking (I did most of the talking) I came to know that he was very nice, quiet and even a bit shy. He listened attentively to every word that I had to say and did not interrupt even one time. I liked this man's way and thought that he had definite potential to become a good Christian. Little did I know the course of events about to unravel in front of my eyes.
First of all, I agreed with my father that we should do business with this man and even encouraged the idea of him traveling along with me on my business trips across the northern part of Texas. Day after day we would ride together and discuss various issues pertaining to different beliefs that people have. And along the way, I could of course interject some of my favorite radio programs of worship and praise to help bring the message to this poor individual. We talked about the concept of God; the meaning of life; the purpose of creation; the prophets and their mission and how God reveals His Will to mankind. We also shared a lot of personal experiences and ideas as well.
One day I came to know that my friend Mohamed was going to move out of the home he has been sharing with a friend of his and was going to be living in the mosque for a time. I went to my dad and asked him if we could invite Mohamed to come out to our big home in the country and stay there with us. After all, he could share some of the work and some expenses and he would be right there when we were ready to go to out traveling around. My father agreed and Mohamed moved in. Of course I still would find time to visit my fellow preachers and evangelists around the state of Texas. One of them lived on the Texas -- Mexico border and another lived near lived Oklahoma border. One preacher liked to a huge wooden cross that was bigger than a car. He would carry it over his shoulder and drag the bottom on the ground and go down the road or freeway hauling these two beams formed in the shape of a cross. People would stop their cars and come over to him and ask him what was going on and he would give them pamphlets and booklets on Christianity.
One day my friend with the cross had a heart attack and had to go to the Veterans Hospital where he stayed for quite a long while. I used to visit him in the hospital several times a week and I would take Mohamed with me with the hopes that we could all share together in the subject of beliefs and religions. My friend was not very impressed and it was obvious that he did not want to know anything about Islam. Then one day a man who was sharing the room with my friend came rolling into the room in his wheelchair. I went to him and asked him his name and he said that it didn't matter and when I asked him where he was from he said he was from the planet Jupiter. I thought about what he said and then began to wonder if I was in the cardiac ward or the mental ward.
I knew the man was lonely and depressed and needed someone in his life. So, I began to 'witness' to him about the Lord. I read to him out of the book of Jonah in the Old Testament. I shared the story of the prophet Jonah who had been sent by the Lord to call his people to the correct way. Jonah had left his people and escaped by boat to leave his city and head out to sea. A storm came up and the ship almost capsized and the people on board threw Jonah over the side of the ship. A whale came up to the surface and grabbed Jonah, swallowed him and then went down to the bottom of the sea, where he stayed for 3 days and 3 nights. Yet because of God's Mercy, He caused the whale to rise to the surface and then spit Jonah out to return back home safely to his city of Nineveh. And the idea was that we can't really run away from our problems because we always know what we have done. And what is more, God also always knows what we have done.
After sharing this story with the man in the wheel chair, he looked up and me and apologized. He told me he was sorry for his rude behavior and that he had experienced some real serious problems recently. Then he said that he wanted to confess something to me. And I said that I was not a Catholic priest and I don't handle confessions. He replied back to me that he knew that. In fact, he said: "I am a Catholic priest."
I was shocked. Here I had been trying to preach Christianity to a priest. What in the world was happening here?
The priest began to share his story of being a missionary for the church for over 12 years to south and Central America and Mexico and even in New York's 'Hell's Kitchen.' When he was released from the hospital he needed a place to go to recover and rather than let him go to stay with a Catholic family, I told my dad that we should invite him to come out and live with us in the country along with our families and Mohamed. It was agreed by all that he would so, he moved out right away.
During the trip out to our home, I talked with the priest about some of the concepts of beliefs in Islam and to my surprise he agreed and then shared even more about this with me. I was shocked when he told me that Catholic priests actually study Islam and some even carry doctors degrees in this subject. This was all very enlightening to me. But there was still a lot more to come. After settling in, we all began to gather around the kitchen table after dinner every night to discuss religion. My father would bring his King James Version of the Bible, I would bring out my Revised Standard Version of the Bible, my wife had another version of the Bible (maybe something like Jimmy Swaggart's 'Good News For Modern Man." The priest of course, had the Catholic Bible which has 7 more books in it that the Protestant Bible. So we spent more time talking about which Bible was the right one or the most correct one, than we tried to convince Mohamed about becoming a Christian.
At one point I recall asking him about the Quran and how many versions of it there were in the last 1,400 years. He told me that there was only ONE QURAN. And that it had never been changed. Yet he let me know that the Quran had been memorized by hundreds of thousands of people, in it's entirety and were scattered about the earth in many different countries. Over the centuries since the Quran was revealed millions have memorized it completely and have taught it to others who have memorized it completely, from cover to cover, letter perfect without mistakes. This did not seem possible to me. After all, the original languages of the Bible have all been dead languages for centuries and the documents themselves have been lost in their originals for hundreds and thousands of years. So, how could it be that something like this could be so easy to preserve and to recite from cover to cover. Anyway, one day the priest asked Mohamed if he might accompany him to the mosque to see what it was like there. They came back talking about their experience there and we could not wait to ask the priest what it was like and what all types of ceremonies they performed. He said they didn't really 'do' anything. They just came and prayed and left. I said: "They left? Without any speeches or singing?" He said that was right. A few more days went by and the Catholic priest asked Mohamed if he might join him again for a trip to the mosque whichthey did. But this time it was different. They did not come back for a very long time. It became dark and we worried that something might have happened to them. Finally they arrived and when they came in the door I immediately recognized Mohamed, but who was this alongside of him? Someone wearing a white robe and a white cap. Hold on a minute! It was the priest. I said to him: "Pete? -- Did you become a 'Moslem?' He said that he had entered into Islam that very day. THE PRIEST BECAME A MUSLIM!! What next? (You'll see).
So, I went upstairs to think things over a bit and began to talk to my wife about the whole subject. She then told me that she too was going to enter into Islam, because she knew it was the truth. I was really shocked now. I went downstairs and woke up Mohamed and asked him to come outside with me for a discussion. We walked and talked that whole night through. By the time he was ready to pray Fajr (the morning prayer of the Muslims) I knew that the truth had come at last and now it was up to me to do my part. I went out back behind my father's house and found an old piece of plywood lying under an overhang and right there I put my head down on the ground facing the direction that the Muslims pray five times a day. Now then in that position, with my body stretched out on the plywood and my head on the ground, I asked: "O God. If you are there, guide me, guide me." And then after a while I raised up my head and I noticed something. No, I didn't see birds or angels coming out of the sky nor did I hear voices or music, nor did I see bright lights and flashes. What I did notice was a change inside of me. I was aware now more than ever before that it was time for me to stop lying and cheating and doing sneaky business deals. It was time that I really work at being an honest and upright man. I knew now what I had to do. So I went upstairs and took a shower with the distinct idea that I was 'washing' away the sinful old person that I had become over the years. And I was now coming into a new, fresh life. A life based on truth and proof. Around 11:00 A.M. that morning, I stood before two witnesses, one the ex-priest, formerly known as Father Peter Jacob's, and the other Mohamed Abel Rehman and announced my 'shahadah' (open testimony to the Oneness of God and the prophethood of Muhammad, peace be upon him). A few minutes later, my wife follow along and gave the same testimony. But hers was in front of 3 witnesses (me being the third).
My father was a bit more reserved on the subject and waited a few more months before he made his shahadah (public testimony). But he did finally commit to Islam and began offering prayers right along with me and the other Muslims in the local masjid (mosque). The children were taken out of the Christian school and placed in Muslim schools. And now ten years later, they are memorizing much of the Quran and the teachings of Islam.
My father's wife was the last of all to acknowledge that Jesus could not be a son of God and that he must have been a mighty prophet of God, but not God. Now stop and think. A whole entire household of people from varying backgrounds and ethnic groups coming together in truth to learn how to know and worship the
Creator and Sustainer of the Universe. Think. A Catholic priest. A minister of music and preacher. An ordained minister and builder of Christian schools. And they all come into Islam! Only by His Mercy were we all guided to see the real truth of Islam without any blinders on their eyes any longer." July 09 Muhammad (SAW) & Khadija (RA): A True Love StoryShe was one of the noblest women around, coming from a very prominent family. She was also quite beautiful and the holder of a considerable amount of wealth, being a prominent businesswoman. To marry her would have been a great feat for any man, and indeed, quite a few of the most prominent and wealthy men in society had asked for her hand. Yet, she rejected them all; already being a widow, she had lost the desire to marry again.
Until he came into her life. He was young man of 25, and although he was also of a noble family, he was an orphan and was not a man of many means. He had made a meager living tending sheep in the hills surrounding the city. Yet, he had an impeccable moral character, and he was widely known as one of the most honest men around. That is what attracted her to him: she was looking for someone honest who could conduct business for her, as she - a woman in a fiercely patriarchal society - could not do it herself. So, he started working for her. After he came back from his first business trip, she asked her servant, whom she sent with him, about him and his conduct. The servant amazed her by his report: this young man was the kindest, gentlest man he had ever met. Never did he treat the servant harshly, as many others do. Yet, there was more: as they traveled in the heat of the desert, the servant noticed that a cloud had followed them the entire time, shading them from the blazing sun. The businesswoman was quite impressed with her new employee. Not only that, this new employee proved to be an astute businessman in his own right. He took his employer's merchandise, sold it, and with the profits bought other merchandise that he sold again, thus profiting twice. All this was enough for her: the embers of love in her heart that were once extinguished re-kindled again, and she resolved to marry this young man, who was 15 years younger than she. So, she sent her sister to this young man. She asked him, "Why are you not married, yet?" "For lack of means," he answered. "What if I could offer you a wife of nobility, beauty, and wealth? Would you be interested?" she told him. He replied in the affirmative, but when she mentioned her sister, the young employee chuckled in amazement. "How could I marry her? She has turned down the most noble men in the city, much wealthier and prominent than me, a poor shepherd," he said. "Don't you worry," the sister replied, "I'll take care of it." Not long after, the wealthy businesswoman married her young employee, and it was the beginning of one of the most loving, happiest, and sacred marriages in all of human history: that of Prophet Muhammad and Khadijah, the daughter of Khuwaylid. When they were married, the Prophet was 25 years old, and Khadijah was 40. Yet, that did not bother the Prophet one bit. He loved her so deeply, and she loved him as deeply. They were married for 25 years, and she bore him seven children: 3 sons and 4 daughters. All of the sons died in young age. Khadijah was a source of immense love, strength, and comfort for the Prophet Muhammad, and he leaned heavily on this love and support on the most important night of his life. While he was meditating in cave of Hira, the Angel Gabriel came to the Prophet Muhammad and revealed to him the first verses of the Qur'an and declared to him that he was to be a Prophet. The experience terrified the Prophet Muhammad, and he ran home, jumping into Khadijah's arms crying, "Cover me! Cover me!" She was startled by his terror, and after soothing and comforting him for a while, the Prophet was able to calm down and relate to her his experience. The Prophet feared he was going mad or being possessed.
Khadijah put all his fears to rest: "Do not worry," she said, "for by Him who has dominion over Khadijah's soul, I hope that you are the Prophet of this nation. Allah would never humiliate you, for you are good to your relatives, you are true to your word, you help those who are in need, you support the weak, you feed the guest and you answer the call of those who are in distress." She then took him to her cousin, Waraqah ibn Nawfal - a scholar well-versed in the Judeo-Christian scripture - and he confirmed to the Prophet that his experience was Divine and he was to be the Last Prophet. After his ministry began, and the opposition of his people became harsh and brutal, Khadijah was always there to support the Prophet Muhammad, sacrificing all of her wealth to support the cause of Islam. When the Prophet and his family was banished to the hills outside of Mecca, she went there with him, and the three years of hardship and deprivation eventually led to her death. The Prophet Muhammad mourned her deeply, and even after her death, the Prophet would send food and support to Khadijah's friends and relatives, out of love for his first wife. Once, years after Khadijah died, he came across a necklace that she once wore. When he saw it, he remembered her and began to cry and mourn. His love for her never died, so much so, that his later wife A'isha became jealous of her. Once she asked the Prophet if Khadijah had been the only woman worthy of his love. The Prophet replied: "She believed in me when no one else did; she accepted Islam when people rejected me; and she helped and comforted me when there was no one else to lend me a helping hand." Much has been made and said about the Prophet Muhammad's (pbuh) multiple marriages. There are many who smear the Prophet (pbuh) as a womanizing philanderer, citing those multiple marriages. This is total garbage. If, God forbid, the Prophet (pbuh) were anything of the sort, he would have taken advantage of his youth to do such a thing. He did not. He was with no other women before Khadijah, who was 15 years his senior, and he had no other wife alongside her, as was common custom at that time. It was only after Khadijah died, God rest her soul, that he took on more than one wife at a time. Most of these wives were widows, whom the Prophet (pbuh) married to care after them, or they were they were the daughters of prominent Arab chieftains, so that the Prophet (pbuh) could form a cohesive Muslim society out of a fiercely tribalistic (and barbaric) Arab culture. The smears against the Prophet (pbuh) fall flat on their faces once the light of truth shines brightly upon them.
July 08 Rabbi
“I have stopped asking questions, because there are no answers.” she was told. This unsettled her even more. She felt like screaming, she couldn’t agree to what was just said. But a lone “OK”, was all she uttered and went back into her prayers and her thoughts. “Rabbi!” she intimately called out to her Lord from the depths of her heart, half crying, half imploring. Every time she uttered the word, ‘Rabbi’, her mind would echo its meaning, “Oh my Rabb!”… And her heart would drown in tears. It did this time too. “Oh MY Rabb! My Provider, my Sustainer, my Nourisher! “ “I am hurting Rabbi!” with this more tears flowed down her cheeks. “I’m hurting so much, Rabbi! Please, help me! “, she prayed as she broke into sobs. Down in prostration on her prayer mat, she sobbed and kept crying out “Rabbi! I need you! Rabbi! It hurts so much! Rabbi, please help me!” All day she had run around pretending as if no hurt ever touched her, like she did every day. But as night would fall and she would retire into her room, her restraint and pretence would all shatter. Every night she would break into countless pieces, every day she would put herself together again. Tonight too, she broke into so many tiny bits… It was not just herself that she ached for; there were quite a few she knew who had been hurt for no good reason and by none others but their very close and their very own. Thinking of them and herself, she tried suppressing her sobs so no one would hear her. But the pain she felt was too intense. Her head had started hurting while she cried in her sajda. So she sat up. Warm tears streamed down her face, dampening the fabric covering her hands held up in duaa. “How does a mother love, Rabbi?” she asked her Lord, “Selflessly? How then does she feed her children to mundane rituals? And a father, Rabbi, how is his kindness and protection? Gentle and strong? How then does he throw his children in the pit of cultural pride? O Rabbi! Open their hearts! They are not only being cruel in their love, but disobedient to You as well!” She wished her Lord would answer her in ways she could understand. But of course, this was not His way. She wished He would show her the way in her dreams, like He once had. “How do I believe in You, Rabbi? Should I hold on, believing You are Kind and Gracious and will grant me my duaa? Or should I let go, believing You will heal me and give me better?” With this she broke into sobs again for she had tried letting go. Many a times she had tried to do so. But some wishes are just too precious, too intimate. She just could not let go. Religiously, lawfully, personally, there was no reason to compel her to do so. Should she let go just because people say so? While she was alive, and sane, and believed in her Rabb, this she could not make herself do. “You are Almighty, Rabbi! You can grant me my wish and put my best in it instead. For You it is just a matter of ‘Be!’ and it shall be! For You there are no limitations! O Rabbi! Please ordain it for me, make it easy for me, bless it for me and make it the best for me and for those I love and care for!” She cried and cried till her eyes were swollen and her body was tired. She was aching to be taken into her Lord’s Arms. From her prostrating posture, she lied down curled up on the prayer mat, and fell asleep. Perhaps her Lord had taken her in His arms. July 02 The Kite RunnerYou start reading the story of a grown up man receiving a telephone call, and the very next chapter, only a page away, you tend to forget about the man and his telephone call because now the author has taken you to another world – that of two small boys playfully spending away their perfect childhood days. They should have been the best of friends, those two little boys. One shy, the other naughty; one brave, the other cowardly; one smart in deeds, the other smart with words; one athletic, the other intellectual – one the complement of the other, both so fond of each other, both forming a perfect team. But they were not the best of friends; for one was rich and the other poor and one was master and the other servant, and above all, one was Pashtun, an upper Sunni caste and the other a Hazara, a lowly Shia breed.
I read The Kite Runner nearly four months ago. And I have attempted to write about it many times over these months and have not gone beyond the above two paragraphs. Anything that remotely touches upon racism or sects or cultural prides or any combination of these, I just cannot help but internalize the matter, relate to it and be thrown back into the endless pit they are digging in my brain each passing day.
I felt angry, over and over again, on how one sect, one race considers itself superior over the other and gets away with every vice subjected upon the supposed lower party – servitude, rape, murder – everything goes! You find all the different flavors of pain and prejudice in this story. A father who believes in scare more than care at one point in time and then turns around to care more than scare in the other. You see a friend who doesn’t have the guts to stand up for his friend. You see how a man doesn’t own his illegitimate child from a woman of lowly breed obviously because he is afraid of what the people will say, and then you see the same man asking for an ill-famed, same breed girl’s hand in marriage for his son because he doesn’t believe in what the people will think or say. My own loath for ethnic pride and all that people shamelessly do in its name aside, the story is both painful and beautiful. The book in itself is a good read. And recommended! June 23 Breathe No MoreI've been looking in the mirror for so long.
That I've come to believe my soul's on the other side. All the little pieces falling, shatter. Shards of me, Too sharp to put back together. Too small to matter, But big enough to cut me into so many little pieces. If I try to touch her, And I bleed, I bleed, And I breathe, I breathe no more. Take a breath and I try to draw from my spirits well.
Yet again you refuse to drink like a stubborn child. Oh! Lie to me, Convince me that I've been sick forever. And all of this, Will make sense when I get better. But I know the difference, Between myself and my reflection. I just can't help but to wonder, Which of us do you love. So I bleed, I bleed, And I breathe, I breathe no... Bleed, I bleed, And I breathe, I breathe, I breathe- I breathe no more. By: Evanescence My ImmortalI'm so tired of being here
Suppressed by all my childish fears And if you have to leave I wish that you would just leave 'Cause your presence still lingers here And it won't leave me alone These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real There's just too much that time cannot erase When you cried I'd wipe away all of your tears
When you'd scream I'd fight away all of your fears And I held your hand through all of these years But you still have All of me You used to captivate me
By your resonating light Now I'm bound by the life you left behind Your face it haunts My once pleasant dreams Your voice it chased away All the sanity in me These wounds won't seem to heal
This pain is just too real There's just too much that time cannot erase I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone
But though you're still with me I've been alone all along By: Evanescence Try Try Again.. Sitting up in my bed with my laptop in my lap, once again I try to write, like I have tried many times before tonight. Sometimes I would stare at a blank page, trying to figure out what to write, and shut everything away after a while as nothing would come to me. Sometimes I would write a paragraph or two and again keep it away. Sometimes I would just cry and again keep it away. It is not that I have nothing to write about. It’s quite the opposite in fact, there is just so much that I get overwhelmed. I know not where to start from. As I think of how to write something to lessen the burden in my heart, I gaze around my room and feel grateful to Allah for the little sanctuary I have. The dim light from my boat-shaped lamp across the room from my bed has my room dimly lit. The near triangular shaped table with my desktop computer is in the corner of the room right in front of me, next to it is the bamboo bookshelf where I have kept the magazines from FAST, some books on general knowledge and geography, some novels, some papers and a few ornaments – the candle which Maliha gave me in the second semester at FAST on my birthday, the candle my sister gave me once on a birthday, the small jewellery box that Salma gave me on her return from her honeymoon trip from Malaysia, a multi-colored candle that Sana gave me when she met me months after we were finished with IBA and the best of them all…a small oval face with an innocent, beautiful smile carved and painted across it – a present on one of my birthdays from my dearest, closest, most precious friend whom I beg Allah never ever to take away from me. Next to the bamboo bookshelf is my wardrobe. These three items cover the breadth of my room at one side. Along one side of the length of my room is another bookshelf with all my research books and cassettes – The Quran, ten volumes of Tafsir Ibn-e-Kasir, the summaried Sahi Bukhari, the three volumes of books on learning Quranic Arabic, the full set of 16 CDs containing the complete Taleem-ul-Quran course conducted by Dr. Farhat Hashmi in 2002-2003, a complete set of 30 cassettes containing recitation of the complete Quran, a cassette player and some booklets on various duas. Above this bookshelf hangs the oil pastels painting that I painted when I was in class eight. I had made this painting for a competition. It is all made in shades of blue with a few touches of white and yellow depicting a cottage in a moonlit night under the mountains, next to a lake and a big tree. Although it didn’t win anything, it came back nicely framed, ready to be hung. Beside this bookshelf is the corner table with the boat-shaped lamp. Add to it my bed, the bedside table, the blue carpet with the brown and mink rug as a center carpet piece and the two gray embroidered floor cushions and you have a complete picture of my simple, little sanctuary. And again… I seem to be failing at trying to write something meaningful. In fact… definitely, I have failed to write again! June 18 To BabajaanI am posting this entry to record a memorable day in my biography - if one is ever written.
Yesterday, my father bought the car he has been wishing for for so many years now - eight perhaps. Though he never actively pursued it, I know it was always in his heart - like Terios Kid is in mine.
Yesterday, he bought it - my little brother took him to the showrooms just for window shopping and there they just came across one. My brother pushed him and convinced him into buying it. And didn't rest till he did!
A premio!
My dad's car-dream come true. Alhamdulillah! MashaAllah!
I'm going to take a good nice cake home today to celebrate, inshaAllah. Make him feel nice. Make him smile! Make him HAPPY!
If only I could BUY joy for all the few people I love - I wouldn't mind living penniless if only my purchase would ensure beautiful, blissful smiles on their hearts, dancing on their lips, rosying their cheeks and twinkling in their eyes.
May Allah put khayr and barkat in this purchase. Ameen.
June 16 Perfect MomentThick lashes fall on dampened tender eyes,
Breaking strings of my lover's ties, Softness of cheek and warmth of soul, Has such tender story been told? Folded in love, immersed in passion, Intricately knitted in a delicate fashion, All the fairies, all the maids, Serves him in his heightened delight, While he visits the fairy lands, Sweet moans of pleasure escapes his lips Frightened to touch, frightened to hold, Fear of disturbing stillness been told Calm as the tranquil grand blue sea, For this wonderful enchantment I feel, My heart feels warm as darkness creeps, As I watch my baby sleep By: Zubia Jamil June 12 SighI am not in favor of eloping. In fact, I'm against it altogether.
But...
If parents don't inculcate trust in their wards for themselves regarding such decisions specifically, don't let them feel that their wish and decision will be given priority, force them into marrying someone they don't want to get married to... are parents and families themselves responsible for this mess?
May 13 In the Waiting Lounge of Ataturk Airport, Istanbul That came straight from my heart as I went down into prostration during my Isha salaat in the masjid reserved for females here in the international waiting lounge of Ataturk Airport. A Turkish female was praying beside me, on the right, making her Allahu-akbars audible enough to me. A black female, either African or Arabian draped in a black abaya was lying down on a janamaz near the wall on my right with her head on her hand-carry, reciting the Quran. Another Turkish female had entered with me, she was praying somewhere behind me. I felt in harmony. I think that’s the force of Islam that I felt… no matter where you may go in the world… you will find worshippers of Allah, all worshipping Him in the same manner. I really liked the Masjid here in the airport. It has its ablution area right outside, within the same area but before the prayer area begins - clean, with tissues and dryer and mirror. It has nice wooden shelves in the door of the prayer area for people to put their shoes and slippers in. It has skirts and dupattas that females wearing jeans or skirts etc. can use to wear over their clothing to fully cover themselves up. Whether they should or should not be wearing that kind of clothing outside the masjid in their daily lives is another topic, but what I felt was the respect they had for the place, for the call to prayer, for their meeting with Allah. I wish Muslims would realize the harmony of this binding force called Islam and practice it in their daily lives instead of falling apart and being blinded in the prejudice of so many nationalities, ethnicities and communities.
May 05 Boon or Bane?I can't figure out... the things that happen to me... are they actually blessings from the Almighty One? Or are they banes? I do ask for His guidance before taking any step... why do I end up hurting so much then? Or am I ungrateful?
Alas... I've stopped pursuing happiness. I'm just dead in my track. I can see the light at the end of this distress tunnel, some distant corner of my mind tells me to keep holding on... but I am tired. I am so tired. I want to get there - the end of the tunnel - I see the dim light from far away in the dark... but I can't move.. I want to... but I can't. I feel like crying, maybe I am... silently the tears keep rolling out of my eyes.. but I don't know. All I feel is being choked... Will death come to my rescue? Or will it be something else? 'Why wait for something to come and rescue?', you ask? Oh no, I'm not the waiting sort... I have pushed and held on for so long... years it has been... now I'm tired... the will is there, but the limbs are tired... or maybe it actually is the will that's dwindling...
Until I die.
April 16 Go on - Make them Hate God and IslamUntil a thoroughly reasearched opinion on this news article - I leave it here - and remain speechless. At heart I know God is not unjust, and as only a beginner I know there is alot of stress on wives to obey their husbands in Islam, and that there is also a lot of stress on husbands to treat their wives gently and look after their needs... there are gray areas yes.. Until I study them in more detail.. I'll keep my storm within.
Speechless.
April 15 Oh Please, Let's!‘Come, let's know each other’ Yes please, come! Let’s know each other, in the name of sala-rehmi, or in the name of friendship, or in the pursuit of knowledge, or just in pursuit of simple joy and happiness – let’s just know each other.
Yes please, let’s! Let’s make things easy, let’s live and let live, let’s just judge right and wrong by how God wants us to and let all the rest be, let’s not force, let’s not pressure, let’s not suspect, let’s not limit – let things just be easy! 'Let's love, Let's be loved' Yes please, let’s! Let’s love and be loved, let’s accept each other for the good things each has, let’s not demean anyone, let’s not be presumptuous, let’s be positive, let’s live - let’s just love and be loved.
Yes indeed, it won’t! The world will remain to no one! We will all die! Whatever fame we enjoy, whatever race we come from, whatever fortunes we may have - we will all die and become dust. Why then hold back on false prides? Why nurse intense prejudices? Why force your will on others? Why not just let people smile and be happy and have their wish if God has not set down limitations on what makes them happy? – This world will remain to no one. On reading the following verse written by a Turkish poet and Sufi mystic, Yunus Emre:
'Come, let's know each other
Let's make things easy Let's love, Let's be loved This world will remain to no one' |
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