Quran Weekly – Nouman Ali Khan
Posted by Yacoob on October 21, 2014
Posted by Yacoob on September 22, 2014
Sometimes, we live moments that feel unreal. Emotional. Out of normal reality. This evening was like that.
To put this into context: by the time I got to high school, I felt like I’d seen more than my fair share of death. In junior school, I lost 3 grandparents, a young uncle, and – hardest for me (while I was 8 years old) – a beloved baby cousin. The day before my 18th birthday, another uncle passed, and my auntie (his wife) went a few years later. Them aside, I haven’t really faced many deaths in my family – or to those close to me – in my adult life. Especially since my life changed.
This afternoon, I got the message that my wife’s cousin was in a very bad state. Touch and go. We were to go to the hospital that evening. He’d struggled with cancer for much of this year, and chemo hadn’t helped. A week ago, he had a bone marrow operation – a very risky op, which was a long shot. It didn’t turn out well. He’d withered away to almost nothing over these last few months. His immune system was non-existant, hence he was in isolation. His 2 small kids – a 5 year old boy and a 2 year old girl – had to see him through glass, with tubes in his nose. His wife was still amazingly strong, through this. We saw her and the kids a week ago, at a children’s birthday party.
We got to the hospital half an hour before Maghrib tonight, and the room outside his room was very full. People were spilled out into the space outside the building. Everyone was somber. Some read Quran. Many were crying. About 15 minutes before Maghrib, I went back in with my older daughter (I was keeping her company outside, since she didn’t want to be contained inside). The mood was devastating. Everyone was crying. Shattered. He had passed on.
It was incredibly sad. Most of my wife’s family was there, and everyone had just broken down. I’d never, in my adult life, been around death. Been so close to it. And here it was – right with me.
The most devastation I remember is a vague memory: when i was 8 and my grandmother died. My eldest aunty was hysterical and inconsolable. I think they had to give her a tranquiliser or sedative to calm her down.
Now, at the age of 33 (almost 34), I was in a room – right next door to a young man, 6 months older than me – who had just died. Just like me, he had 2 young kids. Though I didn’t really speak to him much, he was always around at the family functìons. He was my age. He was in my situation in terms of marriage and kids. And he was taken from this dunya.
‘Shattered’ is the word that describes the scene best. They all were shattered. It was incredibly sad for me too, though not as strongly as everyone else since I had only seen him on rare occassions over the last 7 years, and not known him a lifetime.
My eldest daughter (who is 5 years old) didn’t know what was happening, and despite my telling her, I don’t think she understood. She was still wanting to be a little wild and uncontained. My youngest daughter was surprisingly calm – for her 13.5 months – when she’s usually so active.
The cousin who passed – his sisters – were broken. His father was devastated, but – by the mercy of Allah – he managed to regain composure and strength a while later. I didn’t see his mother. I can’t imagine how awful it was for her. His younger brother didn’t want to leave his side, so I didn’t see him either.
His grandmother – now in her 80s – was crushed. She’s faced so much tragedy in recent years – an array of family crises – and now this. Allah must really give a special level of sabr and strength to the elderly when they can see their family members go through such trauma, and yet they still go on.
I didn’t know him well. But, like many times before when I experienced a funeral, I felt the closeness to him. I felt the desperation. The feeling of his time being up. That now, the angels were taking his soul up. And soon they will send it back to earth, and it will enter his grave. His companions will cover him with dirt. He will hear the footsteps as they depart. His grave will constrict, squeezing his body. Munkar and Nakir will make their entrance. He will be questioned. And his answers will come not from intellect, studying, or wisdom. It will come purely from the way he lived.
And I feel for him. I feel so close to that experience – the sheer desperation, most of all. He has no more chances to prepare for these monumental events. His Qiyamah has begun.
And I made dua for him. Deep, sincere dua which connected me to his situation right this moment. Because I will be in that position one day. And when I think of it, and know that – at this very moment – he’s going through it; it connects me to death. It connects me to reality.
I remember what awaits. I truly, truly, truly know that all the frivolous pursuits of this life – the time spent ‘destressing’, the pleasures of food and entertainment, the lack of adequate effort in spiritual striving….I truly feel and know that those things are worthless. Because when I’m in his position, it will all count for nothing. It will count against me, if I went too far in them without balancing them out with enough good deeds.
And I never know when I will be him. When I will be in his position. Lying there, lifeless. Unable to speak, breathe, communicate with my grieving loved ones. Yet my soul being alive. Seeing them all. Worrying about how they will go on without me – my final worldly concerns as I’m about to embark on my journey to Eternity.
‘Remember frequently the destroyer of pleasures’….
If only I could take these feelings, internalise them so deeply, and make them last for as long as I will live beyond this moment. I so want this experience to permanently change me. I so NEED it to change me. But I faced the same 3 years ago, in Madinah on my first and only visit to Jannatul Baqi. And I was so confident and hopeful then – that that experience would solidify this reminder forever…and yet it faded so quickly.
I make dua that this experience stays permanently imprinted in my heart, soul and mind. That the feelings I feel right now will make a lasting change – even when the intensity and memory fades.
And I make dua that for him, his months of suffering have purified him; and that he embarks on his journey in a state as clean and beautiful as the day he was born. And that this tremendous, devastating loss serves as a motivational force – a catalyst – for his family, loved ones, and all whose lives he touched…a means by which they will all come even closer to Allah. A means by which they…WE…can all remember the reality, the impermanence, of this life.
To Allah we belong, and to Allah is our return.
May we all make that return in the best possible state.
Posted by Yacoob on July 23, 2014
Day 25, and the month is almost up. What usually is a time of abundant inspiration – especially in terms of writing – has been quite the opposite for me this year. This is the first I’ve written, publically, in the whole month. Privately, it’s not been much better.
Spiritually, it’s also been pretty lean. There have been Some highs, many lows, and large chunks of mediocrity – making this the most unusual Ramadan in my own memory.
What went wrong?
The focus of my attention and energy, this year, has mostly been on my kids. The older one is almost 5 years old, with the younger nearly 1 year. My wife and I have a lot of help from others – alhamdullilah – but for most of my time at home, our energy goes to seeing to them, spending quality time with them, and doing all the things parents need to do for small children.
Perhaps it’s our own weakness and shortcoming that we can’t make most of our time with them spiritual. And that, when it comes to our own spirituality and striving in ibadah, we have to confine that to the hours they’re asleep (which, alhamdullilah, are not that few since we have long Winter nights in our part of the world).
It can be frustrating wanting to make extra salaah, wanting to read more Quran, even wanting to listen to / watch Islamic lectures – yet being curtailed by the sometimes never-ending demands of young kids who depend on you so much.
A different perspective
Now, so far, this may sound like a big list of complaints. And although it does sometimes get to that stage, I think I’ve come to a healthy perspective on all this:
While spirituality and striving in ‘formal’ worship (salaah, Quran, dua, etc) is critical in Ramadan, failing to excel in those areas doesn’t mean you’ve lost your month…if you’ve filled your time with other kinds of worship.
I’m no scholar, and my understanding is perhaps primitive as compared to the more learned amongst us, but the way I see it, Allah has given us kids as a gift and a responsibility. It’s our duty to take care of them, raise them, and do the best we can for them – just like our parents did for us.
So, maybe we didn’t get to read a few pages of Quran. But instead, we tended to a sick baby that needed frequent comforting and attention. Maybe we didn’t go for taraweeh many times, but instead we endured the long process of putting the kids to bed (actually, they put us to bed too ;) … then ended up making Esha really late, and being too tired to do much else afterwards.
Maybe we didn’t FEEL spiritual, or feel a close connection to our Creator. But we felt LOVE and closeness from precious little beings that our Creator entrusted to us. And by fulfilling the trust He placed upon us, does that not make Him pleased with us? Does that not strengthen the bond we have with Him – even if we can’t really feel it in the constant mill of unspiritual-but-necessary activity?
That’s the way I see it, and I think – for parents with young kids – if you struggle to find spirituality in Ramadan, it’s an optimistic perspective that really needs to dominate your thoughts. There’s no room for despondency and depression in Ramadan.
Spirituality would be nice. Feelings of closeness to Allah would be awesome. But always remember:
WE DON’T WORSHIP FEELINGS. WE WORSHIP ALLAH.
Our obedience to Allah’s commands, staying away from His prohibitions, and striving in His cause – no matter what area of life it’s in – are all to please Him…for His sake.
We don’t do it just because we want to feel a certain way. If those feelings come, then alhamdullilah – we have been blessed with a gift from Allah. But if the feelings don’t come, we don’t get depressed…we simply keep striving and hope for it in future.
So if your kids are taking over your month, don’t let it get to you. There’s a bigger picture to look at. As long as you are taking care of them with the right intentions – that you’re doing it to please Allah, and wanting it to be considered an act of worship – then insha-Allah you are successful, even if you can’t feel it right now.
May Allah help all of us to see things positively, and strive in ALL our acts of worship – whether those be ‘traditional’, or the necessary, day-to-day activities that are just part of our lives as humans.
And no matter how difficult we perceive our circumstances to be, may we always remember those who face the most challenging of situations – like our brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, children and elderly who are enduring the insanity of life in Gaza, Syria, Burma, and elsewhere at this very moment.
Eid mubarak to all; and please try to take forward the goodness from this month into the next 11 to follow. And what you feel for the people of Gaza (and elsewhere) right now, please remember that even when the bombs stop falling, and the media stops reporting on it, they will still be suffering. So keep them in your duas at all times, and support them as best you can all year round.
Posted by Yacoob on June 13, 2014
With each Ramadan, you (hopefully) feel a sense of hope. A renewal of imaan. Another chance to reset and delve deep into your inner being – your soul, your heart, and your relationship with your Creator. The culmination, for many, is Laylatul Qadr, wherein you have the ultimate opportunity to beg for anything your heart desires.
But all of this doesn’t just fall into place instantly. To hit the ground running, and make the most of Ramadan, you need to start prepping well in advance.
We’ve gone through an extended period of trial in our family recently; and that – along with my own weaknesses – has sapped me of enthusiasm and time to do even the basic groundwork which I consider an annual necessity.
But there’s still 2 weeks, insha-Allah. So I hope to get into gear and finally put down some goals and plans – even if they be haphazard and modest.
As for you, my dear reader, how has your runway to Ramadan been so far? Have you planned? What are your goals and schedules like?
Share your thoughts in the comments section, and insha-Allah you’ll inspire others (including me) to strive harder in the coming weeks.
Posted by Yacoob on May 26, 2014
In honour of tonight’s blessed occasion of the Prophet Muhammad S.A.W.’s miraculous night journey and ascension (Isra and Mi’raj), masjids worldwide will commemorate it by holding a special programme. Remember that there are no special acts of worship specified for this occasion – so take what benefit you can from those programmes, but don’t let yourself feel that this is a compulsory act of worship.
In addition to those, here are two enlightening resources which serve as an education and a reminder for us all.
Isra and Mi’raj: A talk by Shaykh Hussain Abdul Sattar (Chicago, USA) – 87 minutes (Right click and choose “Save As” to download MP3)
Courtesy of Islamographic.com
Note: This is a repost from 2013 – no new info added.
Posted by Yacoob on May 21, 2014
A little reminder from Mufti Ismail Menk: Download Ramadan around the corner (48:50 | 22.36 MB)