Sweetness…
Before I went to madressah,I never knew that lowering the gaze was a big deal but oh yeah it Really is.It applies to anything were the eyes are compromised,even if it is texting,billboards,female students,young male students,colleagues,raunchy videos that our eyes fall on in the malls,workers etc May Allah Ta’aala help us in this great Jihad.
p.s- It is not permissible for us to even look at a person of our own gender that is scantily clad.
1- Lowering the gaze is obedience to the command of Allaah (interpretation of the meaning): “Tell the believing men to lower their gaze (from looking at forbidden things)” [al-Noor 24:30], and obeying the command of Allaah brings ultimate happiness to a person in this world and in the Hereafter.
2- It purifies the heart and soul and actions.
3- It prevents the poisoned arrows from reaching you, for a look is one of the poisoned arrows of Iblees.
4- The one who lowers his gaze is compensated with sweetness of faith in his heart.
5- He gains sound insight through which he can distinguish truth from falsehood.
6- He will rid his heart of the pain of feeling that one is missing out, for whoever looks without restraining his glance will always feel that he is missing out.
7- His heart will be filled with happiness, joy and light that is greater than any pleasure that may be gained by looking.
8- His will free his heart of the control of desire, for the one who is controlled by his whims and desires is indeed a prisoner.
9- Lowering the gaze strengthens the mind and increases wisdom, whereas letting the gaze wander freely only makes one follish and heedless of consequences
The Part; The Eight
Back to that weekend.
Tariq looked at me “He is totally wasting his time”
“ Why? Look at how they’re falling over him, daaamn he’s got game” I said,impressed.
Tariq “Yeah ,that he’s got but look at those chicks? Wannabes? Plastered with so much of make up…You know this one bro of mine, he married this girl who Always had make up on,it was amped up for their wedding buut on the their first night when she took all that muck off? He nearly passed out. She looked like another human”
“Awkward man” I said intellectually
Tariq; “I believe that the most beautiful girl is the one who is confident, they have this idea that we find them hot if they look like someone else or grow two heads…be yourself man…and put that bloody few strands back under your damn scarf, you look like you not sure if you want to wear the hijab or not…I’m not into the unsure look.”
That was T-Man. Opinionated and most of the time…correct.
“You know Nabeel… a lady who wears that camel hump? Is cursed by RasulAllah SAW,doesn’t mean of the Emiratis are gone all tarties, so should we”
Me “ Wow you’re a poet and you didn’t even know it”
“loser line! There’s our man…looks like he scored..” Tariq said
Ziad; “ The Zee does it again”
“ Do you actually refer to yourself in 3rd person? You should teach me how to be so smooth” I replied baffled by Ziad’s smug expression turning into something more… embarresed.. I turned to see the reason.. It was Hammaad, a 6th year boy.
“Asalamu Alaikum…hows it?” He said “Having fun Nabeel on your first trip out with the boys?”
He knew my name? I felt kinda special. Everyone respected him. He was popular and pious=The lethal ,the combo.
“Yes..Yes..” I stammered slightly awed
He put his arm around Ziad’s neck “Ziad …hows your sister?”
Ziad looked like he was going to have a hernia attack. Started literally spluttering. Hammaad smiled . “I don’t need to know how she is but I need you to know every girl is someone’s daughter or sister…treat every girl with the same respect you want you want for your own. Lower our gaze and Allah will raise our status”
“burrrnt like ash man” Tariq nudged Ziad as Hammaad left
Ziad; “Oh shut up, not as if they weren’t willing as wildebeest, holier than thou Hammaad.”
I laughed but secretly I agreed with Hammaad. Even if the opposite party has forgotten their self respect ,why should we forget ours?
Monday in class.
I used to think Shaikh Shifu was psychic. He would just look at you and make a comment like…
“ So Nabeel, enjoyed the weekend? Remember good company will bring good thoughts…wanting to be a player isn’t actually on anyone’s list of goals”
Later I understood that some people have firasat and baseerat (insight and vision) they can detect the sins radiating off us.
Shaikh Shifu looked through my soul and said “ The gaze is an arrow from the arrows of shaitan but our heads are so filled with the media we call it cupids arrow, when you restrain your self when you’re young, the doors of nur are thrown wide open to your heart, may Allah help us in this great jihad”
Sometimes, it’s time for contemplation
Sometimes,
Sometimes no one knows our battles except Allah
Sometimes no one knows the pain you curl up with at night,stifling the gasp of pain stabbing you,whispering for sabr or deliverance
Sometimes no one knows our unshed tears except Allah
Sometimes no one knows your silent jihad,what you gave up
Sometimes no one knows that you chose to fall silent in response to her charm,for the sake of your imaan
Sometimes no one knows that she tiredly cleaned the house while the rest were alive with laughter and indifference
Sometimes no one knows how he wanted to cry from the burden of feeding their mouths but kept smiling
Sometimes no one knows the choices you had to make
Sometimes no one knows the sweet cocoon of an illicit relationship that you gave up for Allah
Sometimes no one knows the dreams you had to see ripped apart
Sometimes no one knows you get up at night and lift your hands to HIM
Sometimes no one knows you spent your potential umrah ticket on a divorcee and her children
Sometimes no one knows except HIM
and sometimes no one needs to know except HIM
Taken from one of the pieces of paper from one of the students who passed away from a heart complication.
The Part ; The Seven
Weekends in Madressah are different. My Father made arrangements with his cousin for me to go and spend the weekend there but once Uncle X could not make it back before Maghrib to drop me off one of the weekends so,for the first time I parked at Madressah.(We used to get in major trouble if we were not back in time without a solid reason.
Many guys don’t have family or guardians to go to or even sometimes enough money to make a call home. Only now do I fully appreciate the access to all that. Whoever increases his shukar(gratitude) to Allah. Allah increases his ni’mat(favours) on him.
Saturday night at the boarding– The good guys were engrossed in muta’lah. Some went to sleep after Esha. (as was the practice of our beloved Nabi SAW and something that we should aspire to so we can wake up for Tahajjud or earlier for Fajr,inshaAllah).Some had a tasbih in their hands or silently relaxing. Some trying to whip up a snack and failing but eating the mess anyways! Some unzipping their bags and pulling out their stashes of crisps and chocs.
Tariq was heading out of the room and asked me if I’m coming. I followed. There was another room packed with guys eating and sipping on warm cooldrink. On top of the bunk Ziad was sitting with a tasbih around his neck.(No doubt irking the hell out of Nu’maan who sat there like a sadistic looking statue.) Ziad was pretending to give the introduction to a bayaan in full throttle( all Darul Uloom students make sure they try this out at least once in their student lives,don’t you?) and then burst into a song in urdu which sounded quite dodgy.
Later I came to know it was a perfectly fine song but since he was a bit of a character,he was singing in qawaali style (which I had never encountered before!) the guys were tearing up pieces of paper and throwing at him and saying wah wah! do baara! do baara! then they would pull the next guy up onto the bunk and the next guy would start.Crazy! Then one guy came on,he was a good guy and I always noticed that he’d have fun with us as long as we didn’t exceed but he’d always try to turn our attention Back to Allah Ta’aala. He started reading the 99 Names of Allah with such beauty that the room hushed.Then he started a zikr and the guys all joined in. Until then, I never knew you could have fun the halaal way. Without forgetting Allah and Nabi SAW.
The next guy up started singing in Arabic and some other guys joined the chorus.Then Ziad decided to “host” and international Nasheed contest where one guy from a different country had to sing in his home language. SubhaanAllah,how we all pray in a different tongue and our Rabb hears each call clearly.
So anyways, Hisham from Guyana won. After Ziad gave him a packet of gum, he said he was actually swearing us in Guyanese. Ziad said nevermind, he had a good tune, next time he must just change the words. I asked him to teach me some foreign swear word.
( I must make it clear that qawaali, adulation during it etc, is NOT permissible. We were just mad)
Later after laughing and talking late into the night, I stumbled into bed. 3 of my roomates pulled out their Qur’ans to read Tabarak before bed. I felt a bit bad for not following but I was so tired. If only I chose to, that Surah protects us from the punishment of the grave.Oh my laziness, how often do you lead me to decline.
Sunday late morning- We were at the mall. It was the first time that I had been in a taxi. I couldn’t bear to be stuck at Madressah while some of the guys were out. We’re in a restaurant in a mall. The waiter,Mahir Ali who would become my good friend over the years comes over and asks
“What will you have?”
“Chicken looks good” I say
“Which the part? ” He asks “the part ,the leg?”
“what?” I say
“ohkay ohkay, how about you order nice one? the combo the seven?good and cheap price for all you students?”
The guys fried him and kept asking for stupid things just to make him speak in broken English, as if our grammer was that hot.He took it all his stride that Mahir.
And that folks is how the chapters in this blog got it’s name. Inside joke.
“Don’t look!” Ziad exclaimed as we tucked into our the combo,the seven.
“at what?” I asked ,obviously turning to look in the direction he was trying not to.
‘Idioot’ Said Zahir. “You must be subtle bro,subtle”
I was lost till I found what their eyes were trying not to track.
“Do you think they’re Arab? Should I invoke my grandmother’s arab blood?” Ziad asked
“They look like wannabe arabs with that big loaf on their heads’ Zahir said ‘they even walk like camels’
‘Well now I feel bad for not paying extra attention in class or when my azeezti spoke arabic,dammit” Ziad said. “i’ll just have to wing it”
And he goes up to them and asks in a french/arab accent. ” Sorry but can youu tell me where izz the musalla? Min fadhlik?’
For the sake of Falasteen,spread the word.
One of the first people to make an impact on me was Ramzi,the Palestinian and the others that I encountered from there. May Allah keep your spirit of Imaan intact and bless you with his Nusrat.
Our first duty is to make excessive dua for our brothers and sisters all over the world that are suffering. And to begin istighfaar (seeking forgiveness) regularly.
I am not encouraging you to watch videos. Or to become a youtube addict but this touched something deep within my heart. So please do copy and paste this in your browser and forward it as well.
It’s only approx 3 min.Take the time.
Thurs night once again, let’s send abundant salawaat on the Beloved Prophet SAW.
the part; the six. faith, bathing and nics
In Madressah you get guys with the looniest nics. There was this nice,friendly guy that used to eat with me at supper. We called him Ghas. But before you understand his nic, understand another story.
One day we covered the storyof Hanzalah R.A in class. Who was a great Sahabi. Infact so great was he, that after leaving the suhbat (company) of the majlis of Nabi SAW, he became afraid that he had turned into a munafiq (hypocrite)SubhanAllah!
Don’t we all get that spiritual high when we are in the company of the pious? Or in the path of Allah? Or when reading/listening to something heart moving? Or in Ramadhan? But then when we go back home, check out the food,laugh and joke or argue with our folks and the high slowly drops and we forget all our great aspirations.
As Hanzalah RA was nearing the door of the Beloved Nabi SAW,he met Abu Bakr Sideeq RA who also came with the same concern. Who Were these people? The cream of the crop, the best of all after the Ambiyaa and they worried about the level of their Imaan so intensely, do we? Ya Allah,forgive us.
So now, Hanzalah RA got married and the call of Jihaad came before his walima. His sense of faith and desire to not hesitate for a second in defending the Deen of Allah made him rush out, without having a chance to make ghusal.
He was granted the great ,great status of a shaheed(martyr) in this battle. When the Sahaba RA reached his body, they found that his body was shining and clean with drops of water. They could not understand how this was possible.
(Also the Shaheed isn’t given ghusal and will arise on the day of qiyamah with his blood flowing as marks of pride for what he sacrificed.)
Nabi SAW explained that because he didn’t get a chance to make fardh ghusal, the malaaikah (angels) gave him a ghusal. Thereafter he was given the title of Ghaseelul Malaa’ikah. The one who was bathed by Angels.
Back to Ghas. I thought this was his name in the start. Until I heard one of the Asaatizah call him by his real name. So I turned to Ilyaas ,
“So why do we call him Ghas?”
“Ask Ziad,he gave him that name.” Ilyaas said laughing
“It stands for Ghaseel” Ziad explained when I cornered him.
“Hey Ghas, Nabeel wants to know where you got your name from. “he shouted out as Ghas passed by on his way to the wudhu khana.
Ghas turned purple and hurried away and the seniors laughed like loons.
“You see, when Ghas came here he was like 14 and let’s just say he wasn’t very hygienic. It was a nightmare to sit next to him in class. Whenever it was bathing time,he would go in dry and come out dry. Serious.Even Ramzi asked him to please shave his pits,it was killing us.” Ziad said
“Shooh”
“So one day we made a plan like,told him that Mufti Afdhal(That’s the cover up name I’m going to use for our Shaikhul Hadith.)said we all have to come down to the mess at a time when we knew the asaatizah wont be around. We caught him and carried him to the yard. Then some of the guys opened the hose on him and gave him soap. I poured half a bottle of dish washing liquid which we nicked from the kitchen on him.” Ziad was laughing so much he couldn’t talk.
“Man we were mean but we had to do it! Then we made him repeat “I must not cause takleef to the noses of others” and gave him a razor,locked him in the shower and said if he wasn’t shaved when he came out, then we were going to wax him. From that day,you won’t find anyone more cleaner than him,serious!”
“But how did his nic come about?” I asked
“After he got cleaned up,we made him stand on the bunk and Tariq and I held his hands and said we did ghusal bandi of him and from that day his title is Ghaseelul Ulaama! Ha ha ha,got it? The one who was bathed by the Ulama,short form? Ghas,got it?” Ziad wrapped up
I laughed, crazy. No where else will you get crazy like your days here. Alhamdulilah.
on another note. I still do get messages asking me if I am so and so and to contact you, no I am not whoever you think I am. At the ijtima I hear people talking about this blog, funny thing,my friend was amongst them. They thought it was someone else. My intention was not to attract any “whose this guy etc” but to focus on the moral and to provide a real alternative to the unislamic “Muslim” blogs. And one other reason. But if all this blog is going to generate is a guessing game,then I think it’s time to close shop.
THE PART; THE FIVE. FRIDAYS,SURMA AND THE NON ONE EYED BEING
I turned the spoon round and round in the pot searching for a piece of meat.The liquid was watery and looked suspect. Uzair glared at me. “Dude can you pass the Dhall already?”
It was Jumah. I missed my Mother right now. Ok I missed her food.
Nabi SAW called Jum’ah “Sayyidul Ayyaam” ( leader of all days)
Before I came to Madressah, I was aware that Friday was important because well because we had to read Jum’ah. We had permission from the school to read at the nearest Musjid. It was special because we had a special thick lunch and not forgetting the sweet dish before and dessert and coke after. Then the Jum’ah burp. And then the sleepy feeling. My sisters would wear scarves too on Fridays for a change and my bro would show his mug. My mind went home,when I was little.”
“Nabeel you can’t watch TV” Mum said
And then to my sisters in their teen years.
“Zakia you can’t read novels now”
And then when I was a teen.
“Nabeel you can’t play video games now”
And when we asked why. Mum always replied, “because it’s Jum’ah , you can watch/ read/play after lunch.”
Woah.Back up here.Jum’ah isn’t Cinderella whose gown went back to rags after 12. Jum’ah doesn’t flee at around 2pm. My mother didn’t know better then. Jum’ah with all it’s blessings lasts till Maghrib.
Wait a sec.
It seems like the highlight of my Jum’ah was food. Yes.
We have reached a stage where it seems we worship food. We let our women sweat it out in the kitchen going over the top with their red velvets and fresh cream cum icecream cum cheese cum toffee apple cum soji. Ok I exaggerate but you get the point.
Mother oh mother, while you care so much about our gullets, please care about our akhirah too. Teach us that we won’t die if we eat simple or if ibadah takes priority.
After Jum’ah it was back to classes. It was Shaikh Shifu’s lessons. (I’ll get to later why he got that nic) He was a young ustadh that was unassuming,humble but got you respect without asking for it.Knowwhatimean?
When he walked in the first thing I noticed was he looked like he had make up. Well it looked like that eyeliner thing my sister puts. Later I would find out that it’s called surmah. He also had an amaamah(turban) on. Jum’ah was a big event in Madressah and Alhamdulilah stayed that way for me since. The guys would dress up in their freshly washed kurtas,whip out the surma and ood and put the miswaks in the top pocket. We were given extra bathroom time on Fridays as it is sunnah to make ghusal and you’d see the guys armed with their razors heading to the shower or cutting their nails into the pot plant and ruffling the sand over it.
The dressing up well for Jum’ah is slowly leaving the ummah. Applies to both genders. (No perfume for the ladies though)
“Who read Surah Kahf this morning in Mamoolaats?” Shaikh Shifu queried
“Me…me…me” Many hands went up
“Zubair? Dozing off while someone else is reading is not counted as your own reading” Shaikh smiled
“Aww, it was just the sakinah (divine tranquillity) overwhelming me.” Zubair replied
“I somehow feel when sakeena overcomes you then you won’t be drooling with your mouth open” Shaikh teased him
“Ok Ok I’ll read Shaikh” Zubair replied easily. That was one of the things about that guy. He would readily admit to his faults with a smile. The Asaatizah loved him.
“InshaAllah, Surah Kahf will protect us from the fitan(tests) of Dajjal. Everything,everyday convinces me the time for Dajjal is really close. Allah save us” He said in such a way that made me shiver slightly on a hot day.
Things I learnt about Dajjal.
He does NOT have only one eye. He has a pair of eyes but one is sticking out like a grape. (Uzair said it should be stabbed with a fork.)
The hadith describes his hair to be “like wheat.” Perhaps blonde.
Many women and jews will follow him.
Music will lure people to him like the pied piper did. He will move around playing this music and once you go to see who is playing it,you will not return to your home. Therefore please make it a habit not to go to the window when we hear music parades passing by.
His culture will be established before him. It is a culture of lies. The movies,the TV,the media=lies.
May Allah save us and make us either dead before he arrives or from the army of Imam Mahdi,Ameen.
Please remember to read abundant salawaat on our Beloved Sayid RasulAllah SAW. May Allah protect us from the fitan of Dajjal. Let’s keep Friday clean and sin free? InshaAllah. Perhaps we may not get another .
the part; the four-
Nu’maan sneered at me. “You really are stupid aren’t you?” “Hey this is all new to me dude!” I shouted after his retreating back. Damn it.
Later that night,just before lights off.( Lights off was when the whole boarding used to be dark because the mains were switched off and everyone was compelled to sleep.) Only later did I come to know not everyone exactly followed that. A time would come when I would ruin my Madressa studies by becoming one of Those boys.
“Ramzi,guess what? Today we did something crazy!” I said eyeing him eating a delicious looking concoction. “Bismillah,what was it ya Nabeel?”
“Idhaafah! Like I still don’t know what the heck the baabs are all about and now they hit us with that! This is a mudhaaf and that is a mudhaaf ilai,like what the hell?”
Ramzi motioned me to sit next to him. “Bring a pen and page, I think it is time we conquer the baabs. Give to me any word besides he one male did.”
“He one male farted?” I said hopefully
“No,other word, how about the word Look? Na’am?” but we will use it in dual
“Ok fine” I sighed willing my brains to stay alive.
“Nazharaa, They two males looked. They is in DUAL. Immediately you know the word is referring to 2 people because it has an alif at the end. If it was singular it wouldn’t .
“And if it was plural?” I questioned, the light slowly creeping in
“Then it would be Nazharoo just as Fa’aloo. They make us learn these scales so we use it as a what you say?…template for other words yes. If the word is Nazharat then you know it is female because it has a TAA at then end,this has no Taa so you know it’s Masculine so you say They 2 MALES and the word is in past tense and means Look so it becomes, THEY 2.MALES.LOOKED.Let’s use another word now…”
Ramzi continued explaining patiently to me while I ate my Maggi 2 minute noodles. A Darul Uloom staple.
“Thank yoooou! Gracias! Ramzi I got it! I got it! At last!
Ramzi just shook his shoulders in that humble style of his and said “Ma mushkila(no problem)but say JazakAllah Khair,may Allah reward you with good. it is a dua for a Muslim while thank you means nothing”
“JazakAllah khair! Hey Ramzi before Nu’maan comes,why is he so faulty? He said he’s Salafi and wanted a response from me I think.
What’s a Salafi?”
Ramzi sighed. “ Salafi is someone who doesn’t follow any of the 4 A’imma(Imams) ,and this is a Deobandi Madressah so he doesn’t feel very comfortable here and sometimes the teachers don’t feel comfortable with him,some of them”
“Err what’s a Deobandi? Is it a sect?” I had never came across the word before.
Ramzi looked at me. ‘no it is not a sect, Darul Uloom Deoband was one of the major Madressahs in India.It made Islam stable there na’am.Many from all over the world came to study there and opened up Madressahs all over in the same system of teaching. Including this Madressah, that is why all graduates of these Darul Ulooms are called Deobandi ,we will be too when we graduate to some extent”
“So what’s Nu’maans issue?”
“Well Nu’maans father was Salafi and the Deobandi and Salafis have some very strong differences. That’s the problem and you see you Nu’maan is …”
“Ok ok enough I’m getting bored now. Tell me more another day” I said yawning and stretching. Just on cue the devil I walked in with a scowl on his face. What’s new. If only I had heard Ramzi out before judging Nu’maan.
The lights went off and we all got into bed.
“Hey Ramzi, why don’t you read Salaah properly?” I asked in the dark.
“Matlab,meaning?” He gently asked back.
“I saw you lift your hands in Salaah more than once. I thought you’d know better since you’re a senior”
(yeah i was quite a moron)
The room burst into sniggers.
Nu’maan snorted. “Stupid Deo”
“Shut Up”
“I’m Shaafi Nabeel. That is our method of reading salaah. It is called rafa yadain”
I felt embarrassed as heck. Why did I not know so much??? Tomorrow I was going to ask my Ustadh what was a Shafi and that Yadain thing about.
Thursday night! Much anticipated and welcomed in Madressah. We got off from Muta’lah as classes resumed after Jumah the next day. I waited in line with the foreigners to make a call home. It was so weird using a call box for the first time.My cellphone was kept with one of the Asaatizah(teachers)
I called Mum first because I missed her the most, spoke to Dad who acted like using the phone was going to kill him so that was a short convo before the threw the phone at Nana.
“Take care beta and remember to practice everything you learn”
“Yeah yeah. Remind Mum to send my food stuff up with Zubair please. I’m dying without my snacks and some of these guys are real misers, they bring stacks and don’t even share their chocolate wrapper”
“ Don’t forget to share when you get your parcel.”
I made a mental note to gobble up the goodies in Nu’maan’s face. I’d share the aroma with him.Mwuhahah.
“and Yusuf called asking how you were. Phone him”
I put the phone down. Over here, away from everyone. My other life seemed so far away. My friends didn’t understand when I told them I had to enrol here. They were torn between laughter and shock and I was still pissed about them mocking me. Except Handsome of course who was his usual irritatingly encouraging self. I thought longingly of the girl I left behind,Zahira…and Shakira and Yumna and whats her name.. of course I didn’t think longingly of them! I was just 18,we don’t do emotions then. Leaving them was easy A. Yumna cried when I told her I’m going, that was great for my ego but awkward.I can’t handle my sisters crying leave alone a girl whose just my passing phase.Or as Mustafa used to say “meri timepass hai bhas bhai” (she’s just my time pass bro)
I did miss all the attention from my time-passes though.
I decided not to call Handsome. The truth was…I was kinda jealous of my own best friend. He got his dream. Was cracking it at campus. Having fun.And me? I was trapped here using a bloody callbox, in this century.
The part; the three
“ And this is the dorm.” Fadhal said opening the door to a sparse room that had military looking lockers and 4 sets of bunks.
I was here to enrol at Madressa and came with my folks for a sort of orientation.
I felt a bit queasy looking around the dormitory. I would be trapped here for four months before the first holiday! No beach! No cellphone! No movies! No sunshine! Ok I exaggerate that bit. Thinking of all that made me feel like the prison walls were closing in on me. I mean Madressa walls.
I can do this. It’s just a year and then I’m the hell outta here.
A while before.
“So our deal is that you spend at least one year in Madressa Nabeel and after that you can carry on if you want or you can got to university. Or you carry on with university and you pay me back your registration amount.”
Nana said with a straight face as if he didn’t know quite well that I didn’t have money of my own to even pay back the tuckshop. Damn this old blackmailer. I thought over it. Ok well I didn’t really have much choice did I?
Anyways how bad could it be? I aced Grade 12 without thaat much effort. I thought modestly, how bad could Madressa be? I’d breeze through it with my eyes closed.
“What the fff…” I exclaimed looking at my Sarf (Arabic morphology) book.
“don’t say it” murmured Ramzi my roommate from Palestine.
“I don’t understand a thing! It’s madness this. Fa’ala,fa’alaa,fa’aloo..” My head spun with memorising it. I still had so much more homework to do And still tackle Urdu which surprisingly I didn’t find That bad but bad. As for the farsi? Sheesh. They were killing me and my brains slowly but surely.
“Easy for you Ramzi, this is your first language. I can’t make head or tail,it’s giving me a freaking migraine! Fa’ala- He one male did? What the heck is that supposed to mean? Doesn’t even make sense! I Hate this! What did the he one male do? ”
“Ta’aal Nabeel. I’ll help you. It seems very hard at first but it won’t always be like this believe me akhi.”
“Don’t akhi me. I’m telling them I want to leave”
“Okay”,soothed Ramzi. “you do that but first finish your mutal’a”(-homework/prep for the next days work)Everything in Arabic is easier because the word depends on whether it is singular or plural,male or female,past or present. You will get it. Don’t get frustrated. That is from shaitan. Salli alar Rasool.”
During my time with Ramzi ,there were many times where I heard those words from him. “Salli alar Rasool” (Send Salaam on RasulAllah SAW) as an antidote to soothe the jagged edges of frustration, anger, sadness or despair. And when my heart stood still to open to such advice. It worked.
The door banged open.
“Chalo,it’s time for Maghrib and Mamoolats” Mustafa called out in his loud accent. Mamoolats was the practise of reading the surahs of the night- Waaqiah and making zikr. On my first day I leaned over and asked Uzair my classmate “What the heck are they saying?” It sounded like the buzzing of demented bees,so fast, you couldn’t hear the words!
“3rd kalima” Uzair said. “and 1st and istighfaar”
These are supposed to be part of our daily practices. But make it like you mean it. Not mechanically.
We were 8 in our room.
Ramzi- from Palestine. Mustafa from India. Ilyaas from South Africa. Qaasimi from Malawi. Then there was Tahir,Ziad and me whose nationality I wont mention and my nemesis, Nu’maan from Syria, his dad was Syrian and his Mum was English.
Nu’maan was in 2nd year and was the type of guy who always seemed to be spoiling for a fight. In class we were always encouraged to have “adab.” (Respect) for our teachers. So one day while we were on our way to our mutaa’la session in the hall, I heard him swear one of the Asaatiza (teachers). I was taken aback “Hey you cant talk like that about the Asaatizah dude!”
He looked at me condescendingly. “why don’t you shut up little creep, you know shit”
I would later come to know he had a major argument with his Ustadh because the importance of taqleed was being discussed.
Nu’maan said, still looking at me as if I was a grasshopper. “Do you know what I am? I’m a Salafi,we do authentic dude,A u t h e n t i c . If I could help it there is no way I’d be here.” I was obviously missing something here.
I looked at him confused. “ Wow is that like a branch of the Arab royal family or something?
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