‎

View One: A Loss of Independence

On one side, there are those who are strongly against the idea. Their concern is not baseless. For many women, choosing to leave a career is not seen as a neutral decision, but as a loss of independence and recognition. In a world where a person’s worth is often tied to their professional achievements, stepping away from work can feel like stepping away from visibility itself.

‎

There is also a historical context behind this resistance. Women have spent decades pushing against limitations that confined them to domestic roles without choice.

Because of that, when the idea of becoming a housewife is brought up today, it can feel, to some, like a return to a past where women had fewer options and less control over their lives.

‎

This is where the common question arises: why is it often the woman who is expected to adjust, while the man continues his career without interruption? It is not just about jobs, but about fairness and recognition of personal ambition.

View Two: Following the innate nature / inclination

At the same time, there is another perspective that deserves equal attention, especially within an Islamic framework. In Islam, roles within a marriage are defined, but they are not meant to diminish either party.

• A husband is responsible for financial provision and protection, while a wife is not obligated to carry that burden.

• If she contributes financially, it is considered voluntary, not required.

‎

This distinction is important because it reframes the idea of being a housewife. It is not about removing a woman’s capability, but about relieving her from certain obligations. The structure is designed in a way that ensures she is provided for, rather than left to manage both domestic and financial responsibilities at the same time.

‎

The idea of a wife “serving” her husband is often where the sharpest misunderstanding appears, particularly when viewed through a Western lens. In that framework, service is almost always tied to inequality. To serve is to be beneath, to obey without question, to exist for someone else’s comfort at the cost of your own dignity.

• So when this language is applied to marriage in Islam, it is quickly assumed that the relationship is one-sided and inherently unfair.

But this reading comes from a different set of assumptions about what a relationship should look like. The Western model tends to emphasise sameness, where equality is measured by identical roles and identical responsibilities. If both partners are not doing the same things, it is seen as imbalance.

Islam does not approach equality in that way. It recognises difference without attaching inferiority to it. Roles are distributed, but so are obligations:

• A wife’s care within the home is not placed in isolation; it exists alongside the husband’s duty to provide, protect, and maintain her well-being.

• These are not light responsibilities. In fact, they are binding upon him in a way that her domestic role is not legally enforced upon her.

Islam does not give a man authority without burden. If anything, it places him under continuous accountability. He is answerable for how he treats his wife, how he provides for her, and whether he upholds her dignity.

The Prophet ﷺ did not embody distance or dominance in his marriage. He mended his own clothes, assisted in household tasks, and treated his wives with gentleness. This alone complicates the claim that “service” in Islam resembles servitude.

More importantly, Islamic teachings are not structured to suppress, but to protect and organise human relationships in a way that reduces harm. When a woman chooses to care for her husband and her home, it is meant to come from a place of stability and respect, not coercion. And when a man receives that care, he is expected to respond with responsibility, not entitlement.

The issue, then, is not with the framework itself, but with how it is understood and practiced. When Muslims themselves are unaware of the balance built into these roles, the structure can be misrepresented, even misused.

• And when it is observed from the outside without its full context, it can appear harsher than it actually is.

At its core, Islam does not ask a woman to lower herself for the sake of marriage. It asks both husband and wife to fulfil roles that are meant to support one another. Every command carries wisdom, even if it is not immediately obvious. Oppression is not found in the guidance itself, but in the absence of understanding and the failure to uphold it as it was intended.

Islam values its women

Another aspect that often enters this discussion is the question of modesty and protection, and this is where the difference in worldview becomes even more apparent.

In many modern settings, constant interaction between men and women is treated as normal and unavoidable, especially in professional environments. However, this normalisation does not always account for the subtle ways boundaries can be crossed.

• A woman may find herself in situations where inappropriate jokes are made, where her presence is not taken seriously, or where she becomes the subject of unwanted attention.

• These moments are often dismissed as harmless or part of workplace culture, but they can gradually wear down a person’s sense of comfort and dignity.

From an Islamic perspective, these are not small issues to be tolerated. They are exactly the kind of situations that guidelines are meant to minimise.

The emphasis on modesty, controlled interaction, and clear boundaries is not rooted in the assumption that a woman is weak, but in the recognition that her honour should not be left exposed to environments where it can be casually disregarded.

When Islam encourages a woman to preserve herself within certain limits, it is not isolating her from the world, but placing a boundary around what is considered worthy of protection. The idea is simple: not everything valuable should be made easily accessible in spaces where respect is uncertain.

This also connects to the dynamic within marriage.

• A woman is not just an individual moving through public spaces; she is someone deeply valued within a private / intimate relationship.

• Her dignity is not only her own, but something her husband is entrusted to honour and protect as well.

In that sense, the guidance is not about restriction for its own sake, but about preserving something that is meant to be treated with care, not casualness.

Of course, this does not mean that every mixed environment is inherently harmful, nor does it deny that women are capable of handling themselves. Rather, it acknowledges a reality: repeated exposure to environments without clear boundaries can slowly normalise behaviour that should never have been acceptable in the first place.

So when modesty and limited mixing are encouraged, it is less about limiting a woman’s presence, and more about setting a standard for how she should be treated, and refusing to accept spaces where that standard is compromised.

‎

But, a woman has the right upon herself

However, even within this framework, practical realities cannot be ignored. The economic situation today is very different from the past. Many households rely on dual incomes to maintain stability. In such cases, expecting a woman to leave her job without ensuring financial security is not only unrealistic, but also unfair.

‎

This is where responsibility shifts clearly onto the husband. If he wishes for his wife to become a housewife, he must first ask whether he is capable of fulfilling his role completely. Providing for a family is not limited to basic survival. It includes maintaining a reasonable standard of living, covering expenses, and ensuring long-term stability.

‎

A woman who has built a comfortable life before marriage has every right to expect that her standard of living will not decline after marriage. Wanting stability is not materialistic, it is practical. Asking her to give up her income while not being able to replace that stability creates imbalance in the relationship.

‎

Finding the common ground

At the same time, it is also important to acknowledge that some women genuinely prefer the role of a housewife. For them, it is not a forced decision, but a choice that aligns with their values, personality, and understanding of femininity.

‎

They find fulfilment in managing a home, raising children, and supporting their spouse in a more domestic way. This preference should not be dismissed as ignorance or lack of ambition.

‎

In the end, the issue is not about choosing one model over the other and declaring it superior. It is about context, intention, and agreement between both partners. Islam provides a structure, but within that structure, there is room for discussion and mutual understanding based on each couple’s situation.

‎

Marriage is not meant to function on rigid expectations alone. It requires honesty, empathy, and compromise from both sides. A healthy marriage is one where both individuals feel secure, respected, and valued, regardless of whether the woman works, stays at home, or balances both. It is, ultimately, a continuous exchange, where each gives and takes in a way that sustains the relationship rather than strains it.

‎ ‎

Allah knows best.

What did the Salaf do?

1. It has been narrated that they would increase the length of their standing during these prayers to the extent that they would have to lean on a stick.

2. And they would tie ropes to pillars and to themselves due to the long standing.

3. They would not leave until the time for Fajr. They remained so long they feared they would miss the meal before fasting.

This was all from their diligence in attaining the good from this month, although they would strive hard the entire year; may Allah be pleased with them.

‎

‎

As for us, we have many shortcomings and a great deal of laziness during the entire year. If we follow the month of Ramadan with laziness during the other months, then what have we benefited? Therefore, it is necessary for the Muslim to not miss out on these nights.

And during these times, Tarawih prayer is light and the number of raka’at is small; all of this is to encourage the people to attend the masjid. But despite this, many people stay away. This is due to the people being heedless.

What benefit will the person gain by abandoning Tarawih prayer and Tahajjud and then going off to “he said, she said” or seeking the worldly pleasures? What benefit will this bring to his life?

How can one be heedless when:

1. In front of him is the Paradise, the Hellfire, and the Judgment.

2. In front of him is danger and destruction of the scales, which weigh down to an atom’s weight.

3. In front of him are the scrolls of deeds which have recorded all of his actions.

4. He shall be given his book of deeds on the Day of Judgment and he will read it himself and judge himself with it.

There is a great deal of danger which lies ahead of man, and ahead of him is destruction. So how can he sleep and be heedless?

How can he squander this great season which Allah has made to remove his sins and transgressions, and to remove him from the Fire if he preserves this month?

‎

If he wastes this month and follows his desires and is heedless, then he has lost himself. Whomsoever Allah destroys, then he is truly destroyed.

اللَّهُمَّ إنَّكَ عَفُوٌّ تُحِبُّ العَفْوَ فَاعْفُ عَنِّي

O Allah, You are pardoning. You love to forgive, so forgive me.

‎

Allah tells us in the Qur’an that everything has been recorded in the Preserved Tablet, the al-Lawh al-Mahfuz. Before your heart learned a name. Before you knew what it meant to wait. Before you whispered a du‘a in the last third of the night.

Ramadan arrives, and with it, a softness in people. Many raise their hands asking for marriage.

Many scroll through wedding photos with a tightness in their chest. Every refresh is someone getting engaged or married. Some even watch their past partners (exes) step into a married life they once imagined for themselves.

And none of it is random or spontaneous.

What reached you could never have missed you. What missed you could never have reached you. If a person leaves your life, it is not because you did not try hard enough or because you are unlovable. It is because their chapter in your story had an appointed end. If there was goodness meant to remain, Allah would have sustained it.

‎

If its presence would have harmed your akhirah, your peace, your growth, then its departure is mercy, even if it feels like loss, even if it breaks your heart into pieces.

We often think love is the gift. Sometimes protection is the gift. But you know what? Sometimes delay is the gift. The Quran mentioned that mankind is made of haste. We always want to rush things.

‎

“Where is my answer to my du’a?”

“I prayed tahajjud, dhuha, I prayed for it desperately but where is it?”

Friends, remember that our life is written by the One who creates the universe. He knows best as to why the delay happens. Allah knows when is the best time to answer your prayer. Have faith, my friends. Have faith.

Sometimes emptiness is the space where tawakkul grows roots.

Marriage is rizq. And rizq is written. Just as sustenance is written. Just as the exact moment your heart will feel settled is written. And if a spouse is not written for you in this dunya, then what waits in Jannah is better and purer and untouched by disappointment.

‎

Nothing you were meant to keep will be taken from you. Nothing taken from you was meant to stay. Trust in Allah’s qadr does not mean you do not feel sadness. It means you feel it, and still believe that the One who authored your story is more merciful to you than you are to yourself.

‎

What has passed you did not pass you by accident. What has left you did not leave late. And what is written for you will arrive exactly on time.

1) Seeing Allah as the true Actor behind all things

Here Ibn Taymiyyah grounds patience in tawḥīd.

Nothing, no words, no harm, no power—reaches you unless Allah allows it. People are instruments, not independent agents. When the heart truly sees this, anger loses its fuel. You stop staring at who hurt you and start asking why Allah allowed it now.

This doesn’t deny free will. It just relocates blame from creation to meaning behind it.

2) Returning blame to one’s own sins

Instead of being consumed by people’s faults, the believer turns inward: “What door did my sins open?” Rather than seeing every harm / unfortunate events as punishments, a believer will also understand that a repentance must be made, for the punishments have come from the believer’s own sins.

The one who repents turns harm into purification.
The one who refuses self-accountability turns harm into bitterness.

‘Ali b. Abi Talib said,

“Let a slave not have hope in anyone but his Lord [for He alone causes good and repels evil], nor let a slave fear anything but his sin [due to its consequence overpowering him].”

And it is reported from him and others that:

“No calamity befalls a person except due to sin, and it is not lifted except by repentance.”

3) Knowing the greatest reward is for forgiveness

وَجَزَٰٓؤُا۟ سَيِّئَةٍۢ سَيِّئَةٌۭ مِّثْلُهَا ۖ فَمَنْ عَفَا وَأَصْلَحَ فَأَجْرُهُۥ عَلَى ٱللَّهِ ۚ إِنَّهُۥ لَا يُحِبُّ ٱلظَّـٰلِمِينَ

The reward of an evil deed is its equivalent. But whoever pardons and seeks reconciliation, then their reward is with Allah. He certainly does not like the wrongdoers (42:40).

Allah promises reward not for retaliation, but for pardon and reconciliation. According to Ibn Taymiyyah, when harm happens between people, human beings fall into three moral postures / responses.

1. Some people exceed their rights (oppressors).

   • This is the person who doesn’t stop at restoring balance. They retaliate excessively.

   • They take more than what was taken from them (through cruelty, humiliation, abuse, or ongoing harm). This is clearly sinful. There’s no spiritual ambiguity here.

2. Some take only their rights (just).

   • This person takes exactly what is owed. Nothing more, nothing less. Eye for an eye, wound for a wound, right for a right. Islam permits this.

   • It’s justice. It’s lawful. It’s not wrong.

3. Some leave their rights (excellent).

   • This person gives up their right altogether. They forgive. They reconcile. They walk away even though they are entitled to take.

   • This isn’t required, but it’s morally higher.

Recorded by Ibn Abi Hatim and others,

“And a caller will testify on the Day of Standing saying: ‘Let him rise whoever’s reward is binding upon Allah.’ And none will step forward except the one who forgave and reconciled.”

We must know that on the Day of Judgment, everyone will want their reward. Everyone will be desperate for credit. But only one group will be told: Your reward is not calculated. It is guaranteed directly by Allah. Allah Himself has taken the responsibility to ensure you receive the reward.

You may ask, why only them? Because justice can be measured, while forgiveness can’t. When you retaliate (even justly) your compensation is finite, limited. You get this much for that much. It ends there. But when you forgive, you hand the matter back to Allah, and Allah’s recompense is not limited by equivalence.

That’s why Ibn Taymiyyah says:

“When he sees that one loses reward due to retaliation and taking one’s right in the world, patience and forgiveness becomes easy for him.”

This doesn’t mean retaliation is sinful, but through retaliation, it closes the case. Meanwhile forgiveness keeps it open, but in the hands of the Most Generous.

And only the last group will be called forward on the Day of Judgment as those whose reward Allah Himself guarantees. When the heart realises retaliation costs reward, patience stops feeling like weakness.

4) Understanding what forgiveness does to the heart

Revenge clutters the heart. Forgiveness cleans it. Holding grudges creates inner poison like suspicion, anger, obsession. Pardoning (forgiving) releases sweetness, a peace that no retaliation can match. Ibn Taymiyyah compares it to losing a dirham but being given thousands of dinars in return. The loss looks real, but the compensation overwhelms it.

5) Realising honour comes from pardoning, not revenge

When in the state of anger / overwhelmed with negative emotions, retaliation may feel powerful, the right thing to do. However, the more one calms down and thinks rationally, the more he will realise that it secretly humiliates the soul.

Pardoning may hurt or sting at first, but it dignifies you, both inwardly and outwardly. The Prophet ﷺ guaranteed this: Allah increases honour through forgiveness. Thus, the honour a believer achieves by pardoning / forgiving someone is more rewarding, giving more satisfaction than the temporary joy he gets from retaliating.

6) Expecting Allah to treat you as you treat others

Ibn Taymiyyah says, “A servant realises that recompense / reward is in accordance with its like, that he himself is a sinner, an oppressor, and that whoever pardons people, Allah pardons him, and whoever forgives them, Allah forgives him.”

He’s reminding us that Allah deals with His servants in the same moral currency they deal with others, morally. Mercy is met with mercy. Forgiveness is met with forgiveness. Harshness invites exact justice. When a believer realises this, the believer doesn’t look at himself as the innocent victim anymore.

He looks inward and realises: I’m not clean before Allah. Even if I was wronged by people, I have wronged my own soul. I have sins. I have moments of oppression—maybe subtle, maybe hidden, maybe only Allah knows them.

And in that moment, retaliation stops consuming the servant’s emotion, only hints of repentance are showing themselves. The believer thinks: “Because if I insist on exact justice with people, what am I implicitly asking Allah for? Exact justice with me.” And that’s a scary thing to think about.

So Ibn Taymiyyah shifts the axis completely. The believer realises:

1. If I pardon them, Allah pardons me.

2. If I excuse them, Allah excuses me.

3. If I respond with ihsān (goodness), Allah responds to me with ihsān.

Not because Allah needs this trade, but because Allah loves to mirror generosity with generosity. So here, the servant is no longer forgiving because the other person deserves it. He’s forgiving because he himself desperately needs forgiveness. That’s why Ibn Taymiyyah says this makes patience easy.

Before this realisation, patience feels like swallowing injustice. After it, patience feels like investing in the Akhirah. It’s no longer: “Why should I let this go?” It becomes: “How badly do I need Allah to let things go for me?” And when you truly feel that as a lived awareness, can you see your ego soften? Revenge loses its sweetness. Holding onto anger feels risky. Mercy starts to feel like self-preservation.

Ibn Taymiyyah also says, a person of intelligence will understand this benefit / reward. If someone understands this equation properly, nothing more needs to be said. The intelligent person doesn’t need emotional persuasion or moral pressure. They see the reality clearly: “I stand in need of Allah’s forgiveness far more than I stand in need of vindication from people.”

7) Realising retaliation wastes life

Anger steals time, focus, and clarity. Revenge dirties the heart. It keeps replaying harm, planning responses, nursing wounds. Patience frees the mind to pursue what actually benefits you. Sometimes retaliation hurts more than the original harm.

8) Remembering the Prophet ﷺ never took revenge for himself

If the best of creation didn’t defend his ego when he was constantly hurt, humiliated, betrayed, mocked, while we are full of flaws and sins, then who are we to think ourselves worthy of revenge?

Knowing your own weakness / sins makes ego-defence feel absurd.

9) Distinguishing harm for Allah from harm due to sin

1. First, Ibn Taymiyyah talks about being harmed for the sake of Allah.

This means you were harmed because you obeyed Allah—you prayed, you spoke the truth, you refused a sin, you upheld the Shariah, you stood for something right. The harm didn’t come from recklessness or ego; it came because of obedience.

Here, Ibn Taymiyyah is very firm: patience is binding, and there is no retribution to seek. Why? Because the transaction has already taken place.

Allah Himself says that He has purchased the believer’s life and wealth in exchange for Jannah. So once harm occurs in that context, the believer is no longer dealing with people, the deal is now between the servant and Allah.

One example he uses is when the mujahidin lose blood and wealth, these losses are not insured. There is no worldly compensation scheme. Why? Because Allah already owns what was lost and Allah is responsible for paying the price.

As stated by Ibn Taymiyyah:

“So whoever seeks the creation to pay the price, there is no price for Allah to pay for him, for whoever’s loss is for the sake of Allah, it is up to Allah to take care of his offspring (and other responsibilities)”.

And then comes this line, “Whoever seeks the creation to pay the price, there is no price for Allah to pay for him.”

• Meaning: If you turn an act done for Allah into a worldly claim, demanding validation, compensation, recognition, you have changed the nature of the transaction.

• You moved it from Allah’s ledger to people’s hands. And people can only pay in crumbs. But if the loss truly stayed for Allah, then Allah Himself takes responsibility, not just for you, but even for your dependents and affairs.

—

2. Then Ibn Taymiyyah highlights that not all harm is for Allah.

So he says: if the slave was harmed due to a sin, meaning negligence, wrongdoing, poor choices, then the correct response is self-reproach (putting the blame on ourselves), not outrage. Why? Because blaming yourself interrupts the spiral of resentment.

Instead of obsessing over the person who harmed you, your heart turns inward: What do I need to repent from? What door did I open? This doesn’t mean the other person is innocent, it means your healing starts with accountability, not fixation. It stops the heart from rotting in blame. This comes back to the 2nd factor we’ve talked about previously.

—

3. Then he addresses a third category: harm to wealth.

He says: recovering wealth is often more bitter than patience. Anyone who has chased lost money knows this; stress, humiliation, exhaustion, obsession. Sometimes the pursuit costs more than the loss.

So he gives a worldly analogy: If you cannot tolerate heat, rain, travel fatigue, or theft, then don’t go into trade. This is how the world works. Every meaningful pursuit has a cost.

And then he seals it with a universal principle: Whoever is sincere in seeking something, the patience required to obtain it is rewarded in proportion to that sincerity. Thus, we should remember that pain is not random, and it is the price tag of intention.

If you truly want Allah, patience will be demanded. If you truly want the dunya, patience will still be demanded…just with far less return.

10) Knowing Allah is with the patient

This is companionship, not just something that exists as a mere idea. Allah’s maʿiyyah (withness) means protection no human can offer. If Allah is with you, harm loses its threat.

“Allah is with him when he is patient, as well as Allah’s love for him and His being pleased with him due to it; so whoever Allah is with, He repels from him the various kinds of harm and injury which none from His creation can repel.”

11) Understanding patience protects faith

Patience is half of īmān. Losing patience means leaking faith. When you’re patient, Allah defends you. When you defend yourself obsessively, Allah leaves you to yourself, and there is no weaker helper.

12) Seeing patience as mastery over the self

This is inner leadership. Patience proves you command your nafs, not the other way around. Whoever obeys their nafs becomes its prisoner. Whoever disciplines it becomes free. Even if patience brought no other reward, this mastery alone would be enough.

I also want to take this opportunity and share my previous note on the different levels of nafs. The concept of nafs is crucial in understanding self-development and spiritual purification (tazkiyah). The three stages of nafs are mentioned in the Qur’an, and each represents a different state of the soul in its journey towards closeness to Allah.

1. Nafs al-Ammarah (النفس الأمّارة بالسوء) – The Commanding Self

   • This is the lowest and most dangerous stage of the soul. It’s the nafs that constantly commands a person to do evil (suu’).

   • This stage is full of desires, temptations, and selfish inclinations. The person dominated by nafs al-ammarah follows their whims without considering the consequences in the afterlife.

   • The Qur’an references this in Surah Yusuf (12:53), where Prophet Yusuf (AS) says: “Indeed, the soul is ever inclined to evil, except those upon whom my Lord has mercy.”

   • This stage is associated with people who are slaves to their desires, easily deceived by shaytan, and who sin without much remorse.

   • Overcoming this requires self-discipline, remembrance of Allah (dhikr), and sincere repentance (tawbah).

—

2. Nafs al-Lawwama (النفس اللوّامة) – The Self-Reproaching Self

   • This is a higher level where the soul becomes self-aware and begins to recognise its faults. A person at this stage may sin but feels guilt and remorse, struggling between right and wrong.

   • Allah mentions this in Surah Al-Qiyamah (75:2) “And I swear by the self-reproaching soul.”

   • This is the stage of the believer who constantly reflects on their actions, repents, and strives to do better. However, they may still fall into sin, but their conscience pushes them to seek forgiveness.

   • It’s a state of internal struggle (jihad al-nafs), where one is battling between righteousness and desires.

—

3. Nafs al-Mutma’innah (النفس المطمئنة) – The Tranquil Self

   • This is the highest and purest state of the soul. It is a soul that has attained peace and contentment through complete submission to Allah. The person at this level no longer struggles with their desires as they have aligned themselves with Allah’s will.

   • Allah describes this soul in Surah Al-Fajr (89:27-30): “O tranquil soul, return to your Lord, well-pleased and pleasing [to Him]. Enter among My [righteous] servants and enter My Paradise.”

   • A person at this stage finds joy in worship, obedience to Allah, and patience in hardships. Their heart is at peace, knowing that everything is in Allah’s control.

13) Trusting Allah’s guaranteed aid

If you leave your case to Allah, He takes it over. If you insist on handling it yourself, Allah steps back. Compare the strength of these two helper—what comparison is there between the one whose aid is Allah, the best of helpers, and the one whose aid is himself, the most incapable and weakest of helpers?

14) Realising patience often reforms the oppressor

Patience disarms people. When evil is met with goodness, shame enters the wrongdoer’s heart. Many oppressors retreat, regret, or even become allies. But this gift is only given to the patient—and only to those with a great share of good.

15) Avoiding the escalation of harm

Retaliation often multiplies harm. History proves this. The wise person avoids a greater evil by tolerating a lesser one. Many lives, families, and legacies were destroyed not by the first harm—but by the response to it.

16) Knowing revenge often leads to injustice

Anger blurs justice. Ibn Taymiyyah says,

“The person who accustoms himself to seeking revenge and not practising patience will inevitably fall into wrongdoing. This is because the soul does not restrict itself to the precise level of justice due to it, unknowingly and unintentionally; perhaps it may also be unable to restrict itself to the required level of upholding the truth, for anger leads a person to an extreme, whereby he does not comprehend what he is saying or doing.”

When retaliating, sometimes a servant almost always crosses limits. As a result, the oppressed risks becoming the oppressor, therefore losing Allah’s support.

17) Understanding harm expiates sins or raises rank

But only if patience is present. Revenge cancels purification. Patience converts pain into elevation.

“The oppression which the servant has suffered is a factor by which either his sins will be removed or he will be raised in status. So if he seeks revenge and doesn’t practise patience, it will not be an atonement for his sins, nor an elevation of his status.”

18) Patience and pardon weaken enemies

Your silence can be louder than retaliation. The enemy becomes fearful, disgraced, and isolated, even if you say nothing. This is because there are people who, when they curse or harm someone, they love to receive the same treatment back. Retaliation gives them relief and validation.

19) Forgiveness establishes moral superiority

When you pardon, the other person knows you rose above them. This recognition stays with them. That inner defeat is stronger than any argument.

20) Knowing goodness multiplies goodness

Forgiveness leads to more goodness—in the heart, in actions, in destiny. Retaliation stops that chain. Patience may even be the key to salvation itself.

“If one pardons and forgives, then this is a good deed which will result in another good deed and that one would result in another good deed and so on and so forth. Thus, the slave (of Allah’s) good deeds will never cease to increase, for the reward of doing good is good, just as the recompense of evil is evil.”

But Ibn Taymiyyah warns that these deeds will be lost the moment a servant seeks retaliation and wishes to seek revenge / avenge himself.

Patience, for Ibn Taymiyyah, is the art of placing pain in its correct meaning so it doesn’t poison the heart, distort belief, or sever the servant from Allah. Patience isn’t merely enduring pain, but understanding why the pain exists and where it leads.

When a servant realises that all decrees come from Allah, that the world is a place of testing and not rest, and that every loss for Allah is fully compensated by Him, patience becomes rational, not forced. Harm endured in obedience is reward, harm caused by sin is a call to repentance, and worldly hardship is a lesson in wisdom.

Impatience adds nothing but spiritual loss, while patience preserves dignity, purifies the heart, and multiplies reward. In the end, patience is simply choosing to trust Allah’s wisdom over one’s own pain, and that choice is the essence of faith itself.

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)

💡If you’re interested in having the PDF version of this note, you may find it in my telegram channel: here. All of my PDFs are free to use / share / printed. May they’ll benefit you and me, insha Allah.

He says that people are just like instruments, but they have a free-will. I find this quite confusing to understand. Ibn Taymiyyah is not saying people are robots with no responsibility. So, that means that people are not empty puppets with no will, but they aren’t independent creators of their actions either. Therefore, they’re vessels through which Allah’s decree passes, while still being morally responsible for what they choose.

This is classic Ahl al-Sunnah ground: between fatalism and total free will. When Ibn Taymiyyah says “look toward the One who empowered them over you”, he’s talking about where your heart should look, not how courts, laws, or moral judgment work.

According to Sunni theology, Allah creates the action, its possibility, its timing, its impact. So, the human chooses the action and is therefore accountable. This is called kasb (acquisition).

Let’s take a look at this scenario:

• A person wishes to harm you → Allah creates the occurrence of that harm →The person chose to commit the injustice → Allah allows it for wisdom → The person remains sinful and answerable.

In a simpler way, Allah creates the wind, but a person chooses whether to sail responsibly or crash into others.

Then, he says, “Don’t look at their (bad) actions toward you, it will relieve you from worry, grief, and sorrow,” which I find even more confusing. They’re the doer of the action, their action is affecting me, how do i not react to that?

So, I think, perhaps the message is that we shouldn’t ignore the wrongdoing, but at the same time, don’t get so fixated about it. Because when your heart fixates on people as the ultimate cause, three things happen:

1. Anger festers

2. Grief deepens

3. Peace becomes impossible

That may be why he says, to look at the One who empowers them (the actions) over us. When the heart shifts to Allah’s permission and wisdom, our emotions become more regulated because we’ll start asking

1. Why did Allah allow this now?

2. What is this meant to awaken in me?

3. What door is this opening or closing?

Anger will cloud our judgement and affect us tremendously. But, if we look through the lens of tawhid, we believe that Allah allows it to happen, and Allah wiser, more merciful than we can see, and whatever He wills, that’s the best for us.

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)

💡If you’re interested in having the PDF version of this note, you may find it in my telegram channel: here. All of my PDFs are free to use / share / printed. May they’ll benefit you and me, insha Allah.

This is the kind of patience we often underestimate, because obedience looks peaceful from the outside. But Ibn Taymiyyah says a person almost never obeys Allah without resistance.

The resistance comes from many places at once. Your nafs wants comfort. Syaitan whispers delay, excuses, “later.” The world offers distractions, desires, normalisation of the haram.

So when Allah commands prayer, fasting, modesty, truthfulness, consistency, the soul doesn’t naturally rush forward to fulfill them. It has to be pushed, trained, restrained, encouraged, sometimes dragged even. Because having patience means to strive for it.

You’re patient with tiredness, boredom, laziness, lack of motivation, lack of sweetness. You keep going even when the heart feels dry. That’s why Ibn Taymiyyah says obedience itself only happens through patience.

Every obligatory act you sustain, every recommended act you keep alive, stands on this patience. Without it, worship becomes occasional, emotional, inconsistent.

B. The second type: Patience in refraining from prohibitions

For this one, the struggle is desires, our nafs.

The nafs wants pleasure → Syaitan beautifies sin → Bad company normalises it → The heart is tempted.

Ibn Taymiyyah points out a saying of the salaf: doing good deeds doesn’t necessarily distinguish the truthful from the false. Even people with corrupted hearts can pray, give charity, and appear righteous. But leaving sin when the desire is strong is what exposes sincerity.

This patience is about holding back, not giving in to the desires. It’s the patience of saying “no” when everything inside says “yes.” It’s patience in silence, patience in restraint, patience in being a stranger who tries to follow the truth while others are still drowning in the worldly temptations.

And this is why it’s harder than it looks. Because you’re resisting an urge. You’re choosing Allah over immediacy, over pleasure, over social acceptance. This patience purifies the heart. It proves truthfulness.

It separates the one who appears obedient from the one who is actually devoted.

C. The third type: Patience with what afflicts a person without choice

1. First: Afflictions that come directly from Allah’s decree

Things like illness, loss, poverty, delays, calamities, matters where no human hand is directly responsible. Paradoxically, these can be easier to bear. Why? Because the believer can say: This is Allah’s decree. There is no one to blame. No one to confront. No one to take revenge on. The heart can submit, even if it is in pain.

In this type, Ibn Taymiyyah says that patience can be transformed. If Allah opens the heart to reflection (e.g to seeing hidden wisdoms, spiritual benefits, closeness to Allah, purification) patience switches to gratitude. Then, even affliction is received as a blessing.

At that point, the tongue and heart cry out together: “My Lord, help me to remember You, thank You, and worship You well.” This has transcended endurance and become love towards Allah.

And Ibn Taymiyyah says this condition is either strengthened or weakened in accordance to the strength and weakness of the slave’s love for Allah.

—

2. Second: Afflictions caused by people

This is the hardest kind of patience of all. Because now there is pain and injustice. Your wealth is wronged. Your honour is attacked. Your body is harmed. And of course, us being humans with emotions, we will rarely accept them calmly. Our soul hates being humiliated, being overpowered, and wishes to defend itself in every possible way.

That is why Ibn Taymiyyah says only the Prophets and the truthful truly master this patience. Look at how the Prophets responded. Not only did they endure harm, they forgave, asked forgiveness for their oppressors, and excused their ignorance.

And the outcome of this patience is not a loss but a victory. Honour. Inner safety. Power for the sake of Allah. Increased love of Allah. Increased love from people. And deeper knowledge.

All three types of patience correspond to where the struggle is coming from:

1. When the struggle is inside you — you need patience to obey.

2. When the struggle is pulling you toward sin — you need patience to restrain.

3. When the struggle is imposed upon you — you need patience to endure.

So patience operates in three directions:

1. Toward Allah

2. Away from sin

3. Through suffering.

And together, they cover the entire human experience. This is why Ibn Taymiyyah says the entire religion returns to patience and gratitude. Because every moment of your life will ask you for one of these responses.

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)

💡If you’re interested in having the PDF version of this note, you may find it in my telegram channel: here. All of my PDFs are free to use / share / printed. May they’ll benefit you and me, insha Allah.

“If the slave of Allah considers the entire religion, he will see that it returns in its entirety to patience and gratitude.” – Ibn Taymiyyah, Principles of Patience

At the most basic level, every believer is constantly dealing with two kinds of realities:

1. Things they like

2. Things they dislike.

Ease and hardship. Gifts and losses. Clarity and confusion. Health and sickness. Being raised and being broken. There isn’t a third category. Life keeps swinging between these two states. Now Ibn Taymiyyah is saying, how you respond to these two states is essentially your entire religion.

When Allah gives you something you love like faith, understanding, safety, success, companionship, moments of sweetness in worship, your religion shows up as gratitude.

And this gratitude isn’t just saying alhamdulillah, but also by recognising the gift as coming from Allah, loving Him for it, and using that gift in a way that pleases Him. Gratitude turns blessings into acts of worship.

And when Allah gives you something you dislike like pain, delay, loss, humiliation, confusion, fear, your religion shows up as patience. Patience isn’t numbness or pretending it doesn’t hurt, being non-chalant about it.

Patience can also show itself by staying within Allah’s boundaries while it hurts. Not becoming resentful, not disobeying, not despairing of Him, not giving up in making du’a. Patience turns suffering into worship.

So, what can be understood by this passage is that:

1. Patience

   • Every command Allah gives you requires patience.

   • Every prohibition requires patience.

   • Every test requires patience.

2. Gratitude

   • Every blessing requires gratitude.

   • Every ease requires gratitude.

   • Every success requires gratitude.

For example, in our daily life, the struggles that we commonly face are:

1. Prayer = you need patience to wake up, to focus, to remain consistent.

2. Lowering the gaze = patience to not giving in to the nafs to see what can create unwanted desires.

3. Holding your tongue = from speaking angrily, harshly, backbiting, hypocrisy.

Even repentance fits this framework. You need patience to sit with the guilt without running from Allah, and gratitude that He allowed you to return at all.

That’s why the salaf said faith has two halves. Not because faith is literally split, but because nothing in religion escapes these two responses. There is no act of worship, no moral struggle, no spiritual station that exists outside of patience and gratitude.

Ibn Taymiyyah is also reminding us that Allah’s decree is always good for the believer, but it only becomes good through the believer’s response. Meaning, the same event or challenge can strengthen one person and ruin another.

Therefore, the difference here isn’t the decree, it’s whether patience or gratitude met it.

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)

💡If you’re interested in having the PDF version of this note, you may find it in my telegram channel: here. All of my PDFs are free to use / share / printed. May they’ll benefit you and me, insha Allah.

1.0 A Revert Ramadan

As Ramadan approaches, I find myself thinking about how I spent it last year. It was my first Ramadan where I truly felt close to God—not just practicing, not just observing, but connected. And that closeness didn’t come from perfection or deep scholarly knowledge. It came from longing.

I don’t come from a deeply religious background. My family is what you’d call an average practicing Muslim family. We do what most laymen Muslims do—pray, fast, observe the basics. But the world of kitab, Arabic, fiqh, tasawwuf—all of that felt distant from me, almost unreachable. Like a room I could see but didn’t yet know how to enter.

When I first began my journey as a revert—(and by the way, I recently learned that the term “revert” exists because Islam believes we are all born upon fitrah, and that returning to God is a process of purification, of coming home to who we were always meant to be and I find that incredibly beautiful)—I often found myself watching videos of people with strong religious backgrounds. They attended classes, studied classical texts, sat at the feet of scholars whose names meant little to most of the world, yet meant everything to the preservation of this religion.

It made me uncomfortable in the best way.

We know the names of celebrities, influencers, public figures. We recognise faces that entertain us for a moment. But the names of those who preserved the Qur’an, protected the Sunnah, and carried this religion generation after generation—how many of us truly know them? I realised painfully, that I didn’t. And I was ashamed of my own ignorance.

So I decided to start small. I looked for scholars whose works had been translated into English—as it can be easily accessible for people like me who don’t know arabic. That’s how I found Imam al-Ghazali. I came across a Twitter account that regularly shared excerpts from Ihya’ Ulumuddin, and something about his words pierced through me.

I wanted the book so badly. I checked the price—and hesitated. I had no idea kitabs could be that expensive, though it makes sense when you think about the labour of translation. I was devastated. I prefer physical books when it comes to learning, especially religious knowledge—so I can underline, annotate. Being a student, I had to prioritise my allowance for things that were more necessary for my studies. In the end, I settled for a PDF and made duʿāʾ that one day, somehow, I’d be able to own it.

And Allah listened. When does He not? MashaAllah.

In early March 2025, I remember crying because I still couldn’t buy the first volume. In July, I attended a turath event and saw the book being sold at a vendor’s booth. I stood there, admiring it from afar, knowing I still couldn’t afford it. And then, in October 2025, through a student voucher I received, I finally bought my very first copy.

SubhanAllah. Allah made me wait so that when I finally held it, my hands trembled with joy. The delay was khayr. It always is.

2.0 Maximising Ramadan

Which brings me back to the main point. It was during Ramadan 2025 that I finally experienced what it felt like to be a student of religious knowledge—even if only in my own small way. I was on semester break, with no classes, no deadlines. Just time. Time that felt like a gift. So I want to share what I did. Please don’t see this as rules you must follow strictly. Just think of it as a way to romanticise the holy month! (or you can do it like me where I pretend i’m a student of religious studies, and it motivates to stick to these as much as I can hehe 🤭).

💌 Tafsir (and Tadabbur)

We read the Qur’an every year. But how often do we truly sit with it—word by word, verse by verse—asking what Allah is saying to us here and now? If you’re unsure where to begin, you can choose a pace that matches where your capacity:

1. Gentle approach—one surah per week, paired with its tafsir. Let it stretch across the days slowly, allowing meanings to settle without pressure.

2. Interval approach—two days with Surah A, two days with Surah B, and three days with Surah C. This keeps variety alive while still allowing depth.

3. Intensive approach—one surah a day. This can be deeply immersive, but it’s also heavy. So only do this if you think you’re capable of digesting a tafsir within a day.

If you’re just starting out, I’d honestly recommend the weekly pace. Tafsir isn’t light reading—it asks you to think, to pause, to wrestle with meaning. Take it slow. There is no rush in returning to Allah. No competition. No audience to show. Do it because you need it, do it because your akhira is on the line.

💌Lectures and Reflection

I love filling quiet moments with lectures! You can choose any scholar or topic that draws you closer to Allah. If variety helps you stay engaged, try a weekly theme—perhaps one week on Riyadh as-Salihin, another on the Day of Judgment, another on tasawwuf. Faith deepens when the heart remains interested, not overwhelmed. Sometimes, I just choose 1 preacher to focus on that day / week. My favourites ones are very basic actually:

1. Omar Suleiman / Yaqeen Institute — They have a variety of series that’s worth checking out. I love listening to ‘The First” series! Worth remembering that Omar Suleiman has been making a Ramadan series every year, so do spend some time watching it.

2. Nouman Ali Khan — I love his delivery. Though some of the best lectures that are 1hour long are paid contents, so I can only watch whatever that his team has made it free to be watched. They’re enough though!

3. Belal Assad — Same as Nouman Ali Khan! He’s on par with Omar Suleiman in terms of intonation when talking. His voice is so soft and as someone who dislikes loud noises, I enjoy his lectures very much.

4. Habib Ali Zainal Abidin — My all-time favourite Habib. I look up to him and think of him as my father because of the advices that he gives. So grateful I discovered him while in my 20s because I can attend his lectures physically while He’s still here. Alhamdullilah.

When I’m in the mood for short, beneficial reminders, I usually turn to a few specific Instagram accounts. They share brief clips from lectures by notable scholars and imams of the Haramain—small pockets of knowledge that are easy to digest, yet hit the soul. I find myself coming to them often, especially when my attention span is low to watch long lectures, but my heart still wants something meaningful.

You can follow them too, if you’d like a gentle cleanse of your timeline. They post regularly, and over time, I’ve noticed how my feed slowly changes. My algorithm learns what my heart is reaching for. There’s less space for inappropriate content, fewer unnecessary distractions—no random ads, no strangers’ lives flooding my screen. Just reminders, Qur’anic reflections, and words that pull me back to Allah, even in the middle of scrolling.

The accounts:

1. ahlaljamaah

2. islaminxpire

3. annadaaclasses

4. abu.hashim__

5. smr22ss

6. treasure_of_knowledge.1

7. tareq.at.tawheed

8. a5k.ar

9. abu.zuhd_

10. dune.decoded

💌Recitation

What is Ramadan without the Qur’an? If you’re not a regular reader, let this month be your beginning. Even one page a day matters. Even one verse. A heart without Qur’an is like an empty vessel—present, but hollow. Just as the body needs food, the soul needs revelation. Let the Qur’an feed you.

💌No Music, Yes Podcasts

This one is hard. Music is everywhere, it is inevitable. But Ramadan invites us to gently detach from worldly entertainment and joy. So, try to replace music with podcasts, seerah talks, reminders, Qur’an recitations. If a whole month feels too heavy, try a week. Allah knows we are struggling. He also knows when we are trying, so don’t give up. A small effort, even at the size of an ant, is seen by Him. Trust in His mercy, trust that He’ll help those who’re sincere in their journey of finding Him.

💌Extra Prayers

There is something deeply intimate about the night. The world is quiet, distractions fall asleep, and whatever remains in your chest rises more clearly to the surface. Tahajjud is quite literally a private audience with Allah when no one else is watching.

Allah Himself draws our attention to the night in the Qur’an:

“And during a portion of the night, pray tahajjud as an extra act of devotion for you; it may be that your Lord will raise you to a praised station.”
(Surah al-Isra’, 17:79)

Notice how Allah calls it extra—not because it is unnecessary, but because it is a gift. Something beyond obligation. Something done purely out of love, longing, and dependence.

What makes tahajjud so powerful is when it happens. The Prophet ﷺ told us that Allah descends to the lowest heaven in the last third of the night and asks:

“Who is calling upon Me so that I may answer him?
Who is asking Me so that I may give him?
Who is seeking My forgiveness so that I may forgive him?”
(Sahih Bukhari & Muslim)

Imagine that. While the world sleeps, Allah is calling you by your need. Neglecting the night doesn’t make us sinful—but it slowly makes us distant. We begin to speak to Allah only in crowds, only in routines, only in obligatory moments. Tahajjud strips everything down. There is no performance. No image to maintain. Just you, your weakness, and a Lord who already knows it all.

💌 Isolation (Digitally)

When I say isolation, I don’t mean withdrawing from people, neglecting family, or cutting off real human connection. Islam was never meant to be lived in loneliness. What I mean is digital isolation—creating intentional distance between your heart and a space that constantly invites distraction, comparison, and sin.

The internet makes sin effortless. It no longer requires intention or effort. It simply appears. A scroll. A swipe. A suggested video. A face, a body, a lifestyle, a sound—each one quietly planting something in the heart before we even realize it’s there. And what makes it dangerous is not just explicit sin, but subtle corruption: desire, envy, arrogance, dissatisfaction, restlessness.

Allah tells us in the Qur’an:

“Tell the believing men to lower their gaze and guard their chastity; that is purer for them. Indeed, Allah is Aware of what they do.” (Surah an-Nur, 24:30)

And immediately after:

“And tell the believing women to lower their gaze and guard their chastity…” (24:31)

Lowering the gaze was commanded before guarding chastity. Why? Because the gaze is the doorway. What the eyes consume, the heart digests. And what settles in the heart eventually shapes desire, thought, and action.

In the digital world, lowering the gaze isn’t just about looking away from something explicit. It’s about protecting yourself from content that awakens desires you cannot fulfill, comparisons that make you resent your own life, and images that slowly desensitize your soul. Even things that feel “harmless”—trends, aesthetics, couples, lifestyles—can plant seeds of dissatisfaction with what Allah has already written for you.

The Prophet ﷺ warned us that the heart is not neutral. It doesn’t remain empty. It either fills with light or with rust. And constant exposure to meaningless or sinful content hardens it over time. You don’t notice it all at once. You notice it when worship feels heavy, when concentration slips, when sins feel smaller, when remembrance feels distant.

Social media isn’t inherently evil. It’s a tool. But tools shape us when we use them without limits. That’s why during Ramadan especially, guarding the heart becomes an act of worship. Fasting isn’t just abstaining from food and drink—it’s restraining the eyes, the ears, the tongue, and the thoughts.

This is why I created a separate account dedicated only to Islamic reminders, lectures, and Qur’anic content. And sometimes, when I feel my heart leaning toward pride, judgment, comparison, or distraction, I deactivate my personal accounts entirely. Not because I’m strong—but because I’m weak. And Islam teaches us to remove ourselves from fitnah before it removes us from Allah.

Allah says:

“And do not follow that of which you have no knowledge. Indeed, the hearing, the sight, and the heart—about all those [one] will be questioned.”
(Surah al-Isra’, 17:36)

Even what we scroll past matters. Ramadan is a chance to detox—not just the body, but the heart. To give the soul silence so it can finally hear the Qur’an again. To replace noise with remembrance. To stop opening doors we don’t have the strength to close. Protecting your heart is not extremism. It’s self-awareness. It’s mercy toward yourself. And sometimes, the most spiritual thing you can do is simply log out.

Friends,

Ramadan isn’t about becoming someone else overnight. It’s about coming back—slowly, sincerely—to who you were always meant to be. Even small efforts, when done consistently and with love, are magnified beyond what we can imagine. Don’t measure your Ramadan against someone else’s. Measure it by how soft your heart becomes. And if all you manage this year is a little more awareness, a little more longing, a little more honesty with Allah—then that is already a victory.

—

O Allah,
Allow this Ramadan to be a turning point for us, not a passing season.
Soften our hearts where they have hardened,
and illuminate our chests with the light of Your Book.

O Allah,
Teach us how to sit with the Qur’an with humility,
how to remember You without distraction,
and how to return to You without shame.

Forgive us for what we have neglected,
for what we delayed,
for what we thought we were unworthy of asking.

Make us among those who are changed by Ramadan,
even if the change is quiet,
even if it is unseen by anyone but You.

And when this month leaves us,
do not let its effects leave our hearts.

Āmīn.

1.0 The History

There are words in the Qur’an that feel like they were revealed not only for their moment in history, but for the moments we live through centuries later. La tahzan innallaha ma‘ana is one of those phrases. It’s short and simple—yet it was spoken at a time when death felt so close it could be heard in footsteps outside a cave.

The cave of Thawr was not a place of comfort. It was dark, narrow. The Prophet ﷺ had already done everything within his power to survive: In case you don’t know or remember, during the hijra (migration) from mecca to medina, the Prophetﷺ was being hunted by the Quraysh, his enemies, who planned to kill or capture him. So he decided to flee, taking Abu Bakar (ra) with him. He then left Makkah under the cover of night, chose an unexpected route, took shelter in a cave, and trusted a companion with his life.

And yet, even after all of that, danger still came right to the mouth of the cave.

Abu Bakr (ra), we all know about his courage, his strength, his unwavering loyalty. Yet, at that moment, this mighty, brave man felt fear creeping in. But it’s not fear for himself, but fear for the Prophet ﷺ. Fear that if the pursuers only looked down, everything would be over. Can you imagine how close the enemies had to be, for Abu Bakr to feel afraid? The enemies can just take 1 step forward and spot the two of them hiding! Mashallah, try visualising it. Put yourself in his position, how would you feel?

But in that moment, that fear didn’t make him weak, and it didn’t make him faithless. It made him human. Then, the Prophet ﷺ noticed this fear. But did he scold Abu Bakr? Did he say:

“You’re weak.”

“You’re a man, you shouldn’t be scared.”

“Stop being so scared!”

Did he? لا! No. But what did he say instead?

“La tahzan.” do not grieve.

“Innallaha ma‘ana.” Indeed, Allah is with us.

Not ‘will’ be, not ‘might’ be, but ‘Is’. That emphasis on ‘is’, the certainty that God is here, with us, right at this moment. As you’re reading this, as I’m writing this, God is with us. Allah is forever present in every second of our life.

During that moment, the presence of Allah couldn’t be seen by the eyes. Were they angels flocking the cave too? No. But what came after the du’a? Just a spider’s web. A mere web from an animal smaller than the size of our body, provided protection for both of them. The enemies left, not knowing how close they had been.

2.0 The Need of Faith

Friends, in that one moment where you think, no miracle can happen, nothing can be changed, the situation will play out the way you vision it, for example:

1. Exam’s result will be bad

2. That job application will be rejected

3. Driving to a new place will cause you to miss the exit multiple times

4. The competition you're about to join

All those situations that leave you in the state of anxiety, wondering the outcome…when you think, it can’t be changed…think again.

Just when Abu Bakr (ra) thought they would be caught, just 1 second or step away—Allah performed a miracle for him and the Prophet ﷺ through the spider’s web.

Therefore, just when you think there’s no hope, Allah the Almighty will perform a miracle for you. Why? Because you say, La tahzan. Innallaha ma‘ana.

My friends, when you’re in doubt whether you’re deserving of God’s help, I beg you to remember this Hadith:

يَقُولُ اللَّهُ تَعَالَى أَنَا عِنْدَ ظَنِّ عَبْدِي بِي، وَأَنَا مَعَهُ إِذَا ذَكَرَنِي، فَإِنْ ذَكَرَنِي فِي نَفْسِهِ ذَكَرْتُهُ فِي نَفْسِي، وَإِنْ ذَكَرَنِي فِي مَلأٍ ذَكَرْتُهُ فِي مَلأٍ خَيْرٍ مِنْهُمْ، وَإِنْ تَقَرَّبَ إِلَىَّ بِشِبْرٍ تَقَرَّبْتُ إِلَيْهِ ذِرَاعًا، وَإِنْ تَقَرَّبَ إِلَىَّ ذِرَاعًا تَقَرَّبْتُ إِلَيْهِ بَاعًا، وَإِنْ أَتَانِي يَمْشِي أَتَيْتُهُ هَرْوَلَةً ‏"

(Sahih al-Bukhari)

The Prophet ﷺ said, "Allah says: 'I am just as My slave thinks I am, (i.e. I am able to do for him what he thinks I can do for him) and I am with him if He remembers Me. If he remembers Me in himself, I too, remember him in Myself; and if he remembers Me in a group of people, I remember him in a group that is better than they; and if he comes one span nearer to Me, I go one cubit nearer to him; and if he comes one cubit nearer to Me, I go a distance of two outstretched arms nearer to him; and if he comes to Me walking, I go to him running.' "

This is your God. Your God who has made it obligatory upon Himself to be mercy to you! What more assurances do you need? What more do you need to hear, to believe that everyone deserves Allah’s mercy, regardless of their iman?

God is for everyone, don’t deprive yourself from Him, just because you label yourself as undeserving. Wallahi, one sign of faith is the remembrance of God in every situation there is.

I think about how often we find ourselves in our own versions of that cave. Moments where we’ve done everything we can—planned, tried, prayed, held on—and still feel trapped between fear and the unknown. Moments where our thoughts spiral into what if this gets worse, what if this is the end, what if I can’t survive this.

And in those moments, what do we usually hear in our heads?

Rarely something gentle.
Rarely something kind.

Just negativity attacking us left, right, above, below.

But from this story, what can we learn? We learn that the Prophet ﷺ teaches us another inner voice. One that doesn’t dismiss fear, yet doesn’t let the fear control us at that same time. One that allows effort and surrender to exist side by side.

He ran when he had to run.
He hid when he had to hide.
And when there was nothing left to do—he entrusted the unseen entirely to Allah.

That is what being Muslim looks like. Not reckless confidence, and not helpless despair. But actions paired with reliance. Action wrapped in trust. Abu Bakr’s fear does not lessen his faith…it deepens the lesson for us. Because if fear alone were proof of weak iman, then even the best of this ummah would fall short. Fear becomes a problem only when it is left alone, unaccompanied by tawakkul. But fear that walks hand in hand with belief is not a flaw, but rather a form of worship.

So when we feel anxious about what we can’t control, about futures we cannot see, about endings we’re terrified of reaching—this du’a meets us exactly there.

La tahzan. Do not let grief swallow you whole.

Innallaha ma‘ana. Indeed, Allah is with us.

In the cave. In the waiting. In fear. In the silence. While sitting for examinations. While doing job huntings. In the outcomes we don’t understand yet.

This du’a is so powerful because they remind us that we are never facing anything alone. Even when it feels like we are pressed against stone walls, listening to footsteps above us, wondering if this is where everything ends.

Remind yourself, every time you’re in this position, wallahi, remind yourself with this du’a, and tranquility will follow you. Because what is greater than the help of Allah?

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)

What if he isn’t who he appears to be?

It sounds simple but the more I sit with it, the heavier it becomes. Because for a woman who tries to live with ḥayā’, that question isn’t about personality quirks or minor flaws. It’s about something far more intimate, whether the man beside her has learned to restrain himself when no one is watching.

Allah commands both men and women clearly:

“Tell the believing men to lower their gaze and guard their private parts. That is purer for them. Indeed, Allah is All-Aware of what they do.”
(Surah An-Nur, 24:30)

And only after that command does He address women.

A woman of ḥayā’ lives with the remembrance of this verse in her daily life. She turns her eyes away. She limits herself. She skips, mutes, withdraws, and not because she is fragile, but because she knows how easily the heart is stained, how easily the nafs can creep in, how easily desires can be created. She understands that modesty is not just clothing; it is attention, intention, and restraint.

So yes, perhaps one of the most frightening tests for such a woman is marrying a man who does not lower his gaze.

Because how do you share a life with someone whose eyes are always searching?

If you ask me about marriage, of course I would not deny it. Indeed, I want love, and companionship. I want to fulfil half of my deen as Allah has promised through marriage. But I am afraid, deeply afraid, of choosing someone whose discipline ends where desire begins.

You see, Muslim women are constantly reminded of what is expected of them.

1. Lower your gaze.

2. Cover your body.

3. Guard your speech.

4. Be careful.

5. Be modest.

And many practising women, though imperfect, genuinely try. We fail, repent, try again. We build these fences around our hearts because we are afraid of losing our relationship with Allah before anything else. As much as we yearn for a romantic love, it is not at the cost where our relationship with God is sacrificed.

And yet I find myself asking: where is this same fear among men?

In this generation, there are men who pray for a woman of ḥayā’, who dream of marrying someone unseen, untouched, reserved. They speak of such women with admiration, sometimes even obsession. Many such examples can be seen on TikTok. Where some men would post videos or pictures with captions describing their ideal types.

Is this wrong? No, everyone is allowed to have their own preferences. However, it becomes an issue when the very men who posts this type of content, have their eyes lingering almost in every woman they see. Be it in social media or real life. The likes, the follows, the saved posts. Wallahi. You pray for a woman who covers herself, who hides herself from the world, whose followers are lesser than 100, whose face is barely or never seen by others—yet do you practise the same thing? Have you asked whether you deserve what you pray for?

1. How many men raise their hands to Allah, asking for a woman of purity, while their phones tell a different story?

2. How many ask Allah for modesty in a wife, while their likes, follows, saved videos, and wandering eyes contradict the very duʿāʾ they make?

Allah says:

“Does man think that he will be left neglected?”
(Surah Al-Qiyamah, 75:36)

Do we think these private actions go unnoticed just because they are hidden behind screens?

1. How many men pray for an unseen woman, yet speak freely to many—without boundaries, without restraint, without guarding their hearts?

2. How many convince themselves that they are “just talking,” “just looking,” “just appreciating,” while Allah reminds us:

“He knows the treachery of the eyes and what the hearts conceal.”
(Surah Ghafir, 40:19)

This is where the discomfort lies.

Because a man who does not discipline his gaze before marriage will not magically acquire that discipline after. A heart trained to wander will continue to wander. And the woman beside him, no matter how devoted, how beautiful, how sincere, may slowly learn to doubt her worth, not because she lacks anything, but because he was never taught contentment.

I am not Fāṭimah az-Zahrāʾ. I know that. I am far from her rank. But she remains the standard by which we understand what ḥayā’ looks like when it is lived, not performed. And many practising women today , try to protect that inheritance. We scroll away. We mute accounts. We create distance in conversations. We sit apart. We leave spaces unfilled.

Not because we are saints, but because we are afraid of Allah. Not because we are holier than thou, but because we know our worth and the value of our modesty.

So I ask again:

1. How can such women feel safe with men whose attention is so easily claimed by others?

2. How can a woman who guards her gaze entrust her future to a man who never learned to guard his?

3. How can someone who fears even accidental closeness be at peace with someone who sees no issue with constant proximity / closeness with non-mahram?

Allah describes marriage as sakan, tranquillity.

“And among His signs is that He created for you spouses from among yourselves that you may find tranquillity in them.”
(Surah Ar-Rum, 30:21)

But tranquillity cannot grow where vigilance is constant. Love cannot rest where comparison is habitual. And a woman should not have to compete with the world for the attention of the man she married.

This is not a call for perfection.
It is a call for honesty.

My advice is for the men:

Be the person you ask Allah to give you. A woman of ḥayā’ is not a trophy, not a fantasy, not a symbol of your righteousness. She is an amanah. And if you cannot protect your eyes, consistently, in private, how will you protect a marriage when temptation is louder, closer, and far more personal?

If there already lives a woman in your heart, if, somewhere within you, you know who you wish to marry, then let your eyes learn loyalty before your tongue ever makes a promise.

Fix your gaze on her, even while she is still unseen. Remember her through the remembrance of God. Pray for her for the sake of Allah. Train yourself, slowly, patiently, to look away from women who are not meant for you. Not because they are doing something wrong, but because your heart has chosen a direction, and anything outside of it only weakens your resolve.

Ask yourself, would you be at peace if she did what you allow yourself to do? If her eyes lingered the way yours linger? If her heart remained slightly open to attention, attraction, and validation from those who were never meant to enter it? If she scrolled, liked, saved, not out of intention, but out of habit?

The answer to that question is often where sincerity reveals itself.

Because when your feelings are real, truly sincere, you will not need to be reminded. You will not need surveillance or fear of being caught. Something inside you will resist. You will feel a guilt when your eyes wander, a discomfort that pulls you back, a shame that is not self-hatred but conscience. Love, when it is sincere, makes betrayal, even in small, private forms, feel unbearable.

So guard your heart before it is tested. Discipline your mind before desire convinces you that “just this once” is harmless. Attraction does not begin in grand gestures; it begins with permission. And what the eyes are repeatedly allowed to see, the heart slowly learns to want.

Pray, sincerely, that Allah makes you steadfast. Not just for a woman of ḥayā’, but worthy of her. Pray that He refines you, restrains you, and strengthens you, not so you can possess someone righteous, but so you do not wrong her when she is entrusted to you.

And remember: this discipline is not only for her. It is for your own soul. A heart that learns to be content, faithful, and restrained before marriage will find peace within marriage. But a heart that refuses discipline now will carry its unrest wherever it goes.

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)

“If I know what’s coming,

I can brace myself.

I can practise.

I can calm down.”

But with the questions of the barzakh, it almost feels like the opposite happens. The more clearly we know them, the more frightening they become. Because this is not a test of recall. It’s not a written paper. It’s not “what did you memorise?” It’s “what did you become?”

In exams, questions are hidden because knowing them would let us game the system. We could spot answers, memorise structures, learn tricks. But in the grave, there are no tricks. Knowing the questions doesn’t make answering them easier, because the answers don’t come from the tongue alone. They come from the state of the heart, from the shape your life has taken. Scholars often say the angels don’t ask to gather information, for Allah already knows everything. The questioning is a manifestation of what was already inside you.

That’s why the questions being revealed are actually terrifying in a very specific way. It removes all excuses. No one can say, “I didn’t know what would be asked.” We’ve known our whole lives:

Who is your Lord?

What is your religion?

Who is your Prophet?

What did you do with what you were given?

And yet knowing them doesn’t guarantee we’ll be able to answer. In most exams, the difficulty lies in not knowing the questions. Here, the difficulty lies in knowing them and still realising how often we live as if we’ll never be asked.

That gap, between knowledge and lived reality, is where the fear comes from. It’s not fear of the angels, or the grave itself, but fear of being exposed. Of having the inner contradictions revealed without the buffer of time, language, or performance.

If it were an easy test, the questions wouldn’t need to be revealed. The fact that they are revealed suggests Allah knows how heavy they are, so heavy that without forewarning, the test would be unbearable. It’s almost a mercy wrapped in terror.

A constant reminder saying, prepare yourself in how you live, not in what you say.

Fear of Past Sins Preventing Us from Answering

A lot of people fear the grave because they fear punishment in a vague, abstract way. We’re afraid our own history will rise up and silence us. That when the moment comes, our tongue will know the right words, but our soul will hesitate, as if it doesn’t deserve to say them.

However, we often forget that the angels are not asking us to present a résumé of a sinless life. They are not asking, “Were you flawless?” They are asking about orientation, our belief, and faith. About where we turned, again and again, even after falling.

Past sins don’t automatically erase our ability to answer. What does endanger a person is unrepented sin paired with indifference. For instance, when someone sins and no longer cares, no longer returns, no longer feels the weight of having crossed a line with Allah. Fear, regret, shame that pushes us toward Him rather than away from Him, these are not signs of spiritual death. They’re signs of life.

Think about this: if sins alone disqualified people, then no one would answer those questions. The companions sinned. Every righteous person had a past they wished they could rewrite. The difference was never that they were clean, it was that they kept turning back. Over and over. Sometimes embarrassed. Sometimes broken. Sometimes ashamed. But still turning.

There’s also a subtle misunderstanding that feeds this fear. We often imagine the grave questioning as a courtroom interrogation, where our sins are brought forward like evidence to trap us. But many scholars describe it differently: as a moment where what you truly lived by becomes clear. If your life, despite its stains, was oriented toward Allah, even weakly, even inconsistently, that faith speaks.

Repentance matters here more than we realise. Not because it erases memory, but because it changes ownership. When you repent sincerely, you are no longer defending the sin. You’re no longer standing behind it. You’ve handed it over to Allah and said, “This was wrong, and I am not proud of it.” That changes the relationship between you and your past. It’s no longer a wall between you and Him, it becomes a scar that humbles you. And Allah is not unaware of how fragile humans are.

The Prophet ﷺ said:

عَنْ أَنَسٍ أَنَّ النَّبِيَّ صَلَّى اللَّهُ عَلَيْهِ وَسَلَّمَ قَالَ كُلُّ ابْنِ آدَمَ خَطَّاءٌ وَخَيْرُ الْخَطَّائِينَ التَّوَّابُونَ

Anas ibn Malik reported: The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “All of the children of Adam are sinners, and the best sinners are those who repent.”

(Sunan al-Tirmidhi, 2499)

If this doesn’t tell you about Allah’s value and mercy in forgiving His servants, then I don’t know what will. The test of the grave is not whether you never sinned. It’s whether you kept choosing Him after you did.

And the harshest truth is that sometimes people who lived outwardly “clean” lives struggle more in moments of questioning than those who knew their brokenness well. Because humility, dependence, and fear of Allah soften the heart. And a softened heart recognises its Lord when asked.

However, I won’t lie to you and say, “Don’t worry, everything will be easy.” That wouldn’t be honest because only God knows our state once we enter the grave. But I will say this: past sins don’t doom a servant who keeps returning, keeps regretting, keeps asking to be cleaned, even imperfectly.

As long as the sun hasn’t risen from the west, then the door of repentance will remain open as wide as it can be, for you, for me, for us to return to Him, seeking forgiveness every second and minute, despite falling into it again and again. Allah knows us best, and may we be among the righteous and the believers.

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)

However, I’m a firm believer that a love written by Allah may still require effort. You still have to show up, communicate, choose patience, grow, repent, forgive. The Prophet ﷺ himself loved, was loved, and lived relationships that involved responsibility and care. So “never need chasing” doesn’t mean you sit back passively and wait for someone to fall into your lap. Islam never taught us passivity. We’re commanded to tie our camel and trust Allah.

What it does mean (at least how I understand it) is that you won’t have to abandon your dignity to keep what is yours. You won’t have to constantly prove your worth, beg for clarity, or live in a state of anxiety where love feels like it could vanish if you stop running. The love Allah writes for you doesn’t require you to betray yourself.

And maybe this is the hardest part to accept: sometimes the “chasing” we do feels like effort, but it’s actually fear. Fear of being alone. Fear of loss. Fear that if we let go, nothing better will come.

“Everyone around me is getting married, I’m scared it’ll be too late for me.”

“They have partners, why can’t I have one too?”

So we run after people, moments, futures, calling it love. When deep down, it’s attachment mixed with insecurity. Allah, in His mercy, often removes these loves not to punish us, but to teach us what love is not.

One uncomfortable truth that you must know is that not every intense love is a written one. Some loves are tests. Some are mirrors. Some come to expose wounds we didn’t know we had. And those are usually the ones that require the most chasing, the most explanation, the most self-erasure. They consume your duʿāʾ not in peace, but in confusion.

A love written by Allah may still arrive late. It may come after disappointment. It may come after you’ve cried yourself empty. But when it comes, it settles. It doesn’t keep you in a constant state of “almost.” It doesn’t make you feel like you’re always one mistake away from being left behind.

So, ask yourself, does the love you’re thinking about make you feel closer to Allah, or does it pull you into anxiety and self-doubt? Because what Allah writes for you never takes you away from Him, even if it hurts at first. If you ask me whether I believe in that line, I’d say, yes. But, I don’t think it’s because love is effortless, but because what is truly yours will not require you to chase it at the cost of your soul.

A Reminder: A love written by Allah doesn’t need you to commit sins.

However, we must remind ourselves of something important; this doesn’t mean that we are permitted to be in relationships before marriage.

There is something deeply unsettling about asking Allah to bless a relationship He has already told us not to enter. How can we hope for barakah in something that contradicts His command? If Allah truly intended someone to be your partner, not only in this dunya, but in Jannah, do you think He would love that the connection begins in a way that creates desire, awakens the nafs, and leads the heart away from restraint, before the relationship is made halal?

Love, when it is sincere, does not rush itself into disobedience.

My friends, if you find yourself in a haram relationship and there is a quiet guilt sitting in your chest, I’m gently asking you to listen to it. That guilt isn’t there to shame you; it’s there to protect you. And if you can hear it, take my word and step away. Wallah, tomorrow is never guaranteed. If Allah were to command His angel to take your soul tonight, while you’re asleep, would you feel at peace meeting Him in the middle of something He forbade?

A love written by Allah doesn’t make you feel guilty for loving one.
A love written by Allah doesn’t require you to commit sin.
A love written by Allah is patient enough to wait until it’s halal.

Sometimes, my friends, love can take the form of courage too. It sounds like saying:

“I need to step away, because this is not right for us. I am not honouring you, and you are not honouring me in this way. By Allah, I love you for His sake, and for His sake, I am leaving. If we are written for one another in qadr, I pray He opens a path for us to become halal. Until then, I will wait for you as you wait for me. Until our nikah, let us keep everything within what Allah loves.”

Say it, even if your heart trembles as you say it.
Even if fear tells you that you will lose them.

Wallah, what is written for you cannot escape you. And if that person is truly meant for you, Allah will soften their heart, clarify their intentions, and guide them toward making you halal in the right way, at the right time.

And if Allah takes a love away from you, do not assume it was never written. Sometimes, a love taken by Allah is still a love written by Allah, just written to teach you dignity, restraint, and trust before it teaches you what a sincere love can look like, once you have it.

O Allah, grant us spouses who are righteous and gentle with our hearts; spouses who love us sincerely, lovingly, and with a love that is rooted in mercy and patience. Grant us partners who love us in every state we are in: in our strength and our weakness, in our growth and our becoming.

O Allah, as we ask You for goodness in our spouses, do not leave us unchanged. Refine our hearts, purify our intentions, and help us to continue improving ourselves, in our deen and in our worldly lives, just as we hope and pray for our partners to do the same.

O Allah, place barakah in our unions, tranquility in our homes, and sincerity in our love. Make our relationships a means of drawing closer to You, not further away from You. And write for us a love that pleases You, in this world and in the Hereafter.

Āmīn.

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)

Carpe Diem is literally translated to seize the day, and we hear it, we immediately imagine spontaneity, thrill-seeking, a kind of reckless hunger for experience. But when I went back to the original line, ‘carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero’, I realised there was more to the phrase than what the internet has made it to be.

It doesn’t say seize the thrill.
It doesn’t even say chase pleasure.
It says: take hold of the day, and don’t rely too much on tomorrow.

That last part prompted me to write this entry. I wanted to find the correlation between the phrase and our religion. I felt like the phrase was genuinely familiar to me, something that I’ve been applying in my daily life. Not thanks to the phrase but rather thanks to the teachings of Islam that I’ve gained.

It reminded me of all the times the Qur’an urges us not to delay goodness, not to push things into some vague later. How the Prophet ﷺ taught us that procrastination is a kind of spiritual rust. That the heart becomes heavy when we keep postponing what we know is right. I find it rather strange how a Roman poet and an Islamic worldview can touch the same truth from different doorways.

1.0 The Connection

The more I thought about it, the more I realised how deeply Islam is woven into the fabric of how I see time.

You see, Islam treats time like a living thing: fleeting yet valuable in a way we don’t fully grasp. Every move is written. Every moment is unique in its possibility. But while I was thinking about carpe diem, two other Latin phrases drifted into the picture, ones that often accompany it but rarely get as much attention:

1. Memento Mori — remember that you must die.

2. Memento Vivere — remember that you must live.

I know, it feels almost paradoxical when you hear them side by side. One pushes you toward seriousness, the other toward liveliness. Which one should we follow? And yet, Islam holds both truths together so effortlessly that the tension between them becomes a kind of harmony. Isn’t our religion beautiful?

2.0 Remembering Death and Life

What Islam teaches about remembering death is something I used to find heavy. But over time I began to see it differently. There’s a hadith that tells us to remember death often:

“عَنْ أَبِي هُرَيْرَةَ قَالَ قَالَ رَسُولُ اللَّهِ صَلَّى اللَّهُ عَلَيْهِ وَسَلَّمَ أَكْثِرُوا ذِكْرَ هَاذِمِ اللَّذَّاتِ يَعْنِي الْمَوْتَ”

(Sunan al-Tirmidhī 2307)

Abu Huraira reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “Remember often the destroyer of pleasures: death.”

We’re taught not to make life bleak, and this remembrance of death isn’t to make us miserable, but to remind us that nothing in this world lasts forever.

But Islam doesn’t stop at memento mori. It doesn’t leave you staring into an abyss. Right beside the remembrance of death, it reminds you of the beauty of being alive. The Prophet ﷺ taught us that our bodies have rights over us, that our hearts need rest, that joy is not a distraction but sometimes a form of worship:

عَنْ عَائِشَةَ أَنَّ النَّبِيَّ صَلَّى اللَّهُ عَلَيْهِ وَسَلَّمَ بَعَثَ إِلَى عُثْمَانَ بْنِ مَظْعُونٍ فَجَاءَهُ فَقَالَ يَا عُثْمَانُ أَرَغِبْ عَنْ سُنَّتِي قَالَ لَا وَاللَّهِ يَا رَسُولَ اللَّهِ وَلَكِنْ سُنَّتَكَ أَطْلُبُ قَالَ فَإِنِّي أَنَامُ وَأُصَلِّي وَأَصُومُ وَأُفْطِرُ وَأَنْكِحُ النِّسَاءَ فَاتَّقِ اللَّهَ يَا عُثْمَانُ فَإِنَّ لِأَهْلِكَ عَلَيْكَ حَقًّا وَإِنَّ لِضَيْفِكَ عَلَيْكَ حَقًّا وَإِنَّ لِنَفْسِكَ عَلَيْكَ حَقًّا فَصُمْ وَأَفْطِرْ وَصَلِّ وَنَمْ

(Sunan Abī Dāwūd 1369)

Aisha reported: The Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, sent for Uthman ibn Mazh’un and he came. The Prophet said, “O Uthman, do you not desire my practice?” Uthman said, “O Messenger of Allah, no by Allah. I seek your practice.” The Prophet said, “Verily, I sleep and I pray, I fast and I break my fast, and I marry women. Fear Allah, O Uthman, for your family has rights over you and your guest has rights over you. Verily, your own self has rights over you, so fast and break your fast, pray and sleep.”

When you read this Hadith, don’t you find it to be gentle and tender? Just look at he way Islam insists on balance, on appreciating what God has placed in front of us.

The more I sat with these ideas, the more they started to blend into one another.
Life and death.
Urgency and ease.
Action and rest.
A day you seize and a day you savour.

3.0 Take Advantage of Five before Five

Sometimes I forget that Islam is not asking me to live in a rigid state of discipline. It’s asking me to live consciously. To show up to my own life fully, humbly, gratefully.

In a sense, the Islamic version of carpe diem is found in that famous hadith:

عَنِ ابْنِ عَبَّاسٍ قَالَ قَالَ رَسُولُ اللَّهِ صَلَّى اللَّهُ عَلَيْهِ وَسَلَّمَ اغْتَنِمْ خَمْسًا قَبْلَ خَمْسٍ شَبَابَكَ قَبْلَ هَرَمِكَ وَصِحَّتَكَ قَبْلَ سَقَمِكَ وَغِنَاكَ قَبْلَ فَقْرِكَ وَفَرَاغَكَ قَبْلَ شُغُلِكَ وَحَيَاتَكَ قَبْلَ مَوْتِكَ

(Shu’ab al-Imān lil-Bayhaqī 10250)

Ibn Abbas reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “Take advantage of five before five: your youth before your old age, your health before your illness, your riches before your poverty, your free time before your work, and your life before your death.”

It’s an entire philosophy condensed into one single sentence:
You don’t own time. You don’t even own the next heartbeat. But you own this moment, this present, so fill it with something worth presenting to God.

4.0 Our Own Wasatiyyah

My thoughts drifted then to Aristotle’s idea of the “Golden Mean”: the belief that the best way to live is by avoiding extremes. And it made me think of something very similar in Islam: the wasatiyyah, the middle path. It’s this beautiful principle that encourages balance, not in a dull or restrictive way, but in a way that protects the heart from tipping too far in any direction.

The life of the Prophet ﷺ is the clearest example of this balance. He prayed deeply, but he also rested. He fasted regularly, but he also broke his fast and enjoyed food with his companions. He lived simply, yet he appreciated beauty: the scent of perfume, the sweetness of dates, the warmth of companionship. He moved through the world with one foot in the spiritual and the other in the human, never neglecting either.

One may think this type of living is too bland and lame. But if you look at it from a different perspective, the moderation is all about living a whole one, a life where devotion doesn’t smother joy, and joy doesn’t make you forget God. A life that knows how to hold both things at once.

Therefore, maybe carpe diem was never meant to be wild. Maybe it was meant to be wise.

And maybe that’s really what Islam has been guiding me, you, us toward all along. To live a life that isn’t lived on autopilot. A life where you’re actually present with the moments you’re given. Where you’re aware that time moves quickly, but you don’t let that awareness turn into something wasteful, or panic about time’s passing.

Instead, it becomes a reminder to appreciate the small things: the first breath you take in the morning, the chance to make a choice you’ll be proud of later regardless of the risk and anxiety of how it’ll turn out, the way God’s mercy shows up in ordinary moments, a peaceful fajr walk, a conversation with strangers that soften you, a blessing you didn’t even notice until you needed it.

The 3 Reminders

When I think of it that way, the three phrases come together like a small trilogy of reminders:

1. Remember you will die — so don’t be arrogant.

2. Remember you must live — so don’t be numb.

3. Seize the day — so don’t be absent, and instead be present.

And maybe this is the kind of life Islam calls us toward: one that is awake. Awake to the brevity of time. Awake to the sweetness of life. Awake to the weight of choices. Awake to the mercy stitched into every sunrise.

Sometimes seizing the day doesn’t look like anything dramatic. Sometimes it’s as invisible as doing something kind. Sometimes it’s praying on time. Or apologising. Or forgiving. Or studying. Or taking care of your body. Or calling your mother. Or smiling at a stranger. Or holding the door for others. Or sitting with your own heart and listening to what hurts inside you.

Think of it this way, the day is seized not in how much dopamine it gives you (like going for a random adventure, or going for a run at night). Scrap that. The day can be seized simply by acknowledging your surroundings, appreciating the present, remaining kind and hopeful regardless of your situation. Who says carpe diem has to be extravagant?

Maybe the best version of carpe diem is simply this: Use your time like you’ll be questioned about it tomorrow, but enjoy your time like it was given preciously to you by Someone who loves you most dearly and ardently.

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)

Assalamualaikum Warahmatullahi Wabarakatuh.

I was reading ihya ulumuddin when I encountered this particular Hadith, and I found it to be interesting and scary at the same time.

Have you ever thought about how we are used to thinking in terms of checklists? Do this, perform that, count your good deeds like beads on a tasbih. But then the Prophet ﷺ said ,”Your deeds will not benefit you if you are ignorant of Allah, nor will your ignorance suffice you even if your deeds are many.”

I have been holding onto that, letting it sink in a little.

It makes me realise how easy it is to live in a body that worships, without having a heart that has actually met Allah. For example, you can pray on time, stand straight, bow perfectly recite al-Fatihah beautifully, and still never feel the tenderness of a meeting. The movement is there, but not the presence.

You can give charity, but give it to your own ego, because you want to look generous, or feel superior, and somehow forget that Allah is the One watching the secret of the intention more carefully than the act itself. Your real intention that you conceal from others are known by the One whose knowledge exceeds everything. What will happen to your charity then?

You can fast an entire month, feel the pain of hunger every single day, but never once let that hunger open your chest to humility or gratitude. Rather than reflecting on the times where you could have been in this state for eternity, yet Allah always provided for you—rather than saying your blessings, the only thing you do is complaining about your condition, your state. The stomach empties but the heart stays full of itself.

Dear friends, how many times do we do things “right,” while missing the One for whom we are doing them?

Perhaps, that is what the Hadith is trying to say. It is not dismissing deeds. It is teaching me that actions without ma‘rifah: without genuine awareness of Allah, are like a beautiful lantern with no light inside. Only hollow, purely decorative. It exists, but not living.

And the opposite is true too,

“With your knowledge of Allah, a few actions will suffice”.”

When a person knows Allah, applying both ma’rifah and ihsan (the awareness that Allah is watching continuously), the smallest act becomes radiant and more meaningful. For example, a smile you give to a stranger, an istighfar even if you say it once, a sadaqa given in secret, a moment of patience when you have the rights to be angry, a moment of kindness when people do you wrong.

Wallah, these small deeds may just outnumber the major ones. If the intention is for the sake of Allah, sincere and pure, trust that your deeds are loved by Him.

Never ever underestimate the power that a small deed holds. Sometimes, because of that small, sincere deed, it may be the reason why you obtain your dream job, your rizq flows endlessly, you meet a righteous and kind spouse you have dreamt of.

My point here is that, deeds are not about counting them and wanting to do more to the point they reach the peak of Everest. The point is to turn toward. To let every deed, even the tiniest one, become a small door toward Him. To ensure that your deed, even if at the size of a dust, is made solely for Him.

It is something to be hopeful about. It reminds me that I do not have to be perfect. I just have to be aware. I just have to remember who I am standing in front of, who I am giving to, who I am returning to.

Remember, my dear friends. Actions without knowing Allah do not carry you anywhere. And knowing Allah without acting is also incomplete, because real knowledge naturally pours into behaviour.

The two are meant to breathe together like two lungs. May God makes it easy for us, Insha Allah.

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)

Assalamualaikum Warahmatullahi Wabarakatuh.

Dear friends, we are entering an era where the presence of AI has become almost inescapable. Today, if you browse through TikTok and explore the many ‘AI trends,’ you will see just how effortless it has become to create something with nothing more than a simple prompt. It made me wonder: what are the Islamic rulings concerning the use of AI? Alhamdulillah, my question was answered by one of the most respected scholars of our time, Sheikh Suleiman Al-Ruhayli. If you are curious, you may find the recording linked here.

The Sheikh began by saying:

“Indeed, one of the great blessings in our time is what has newly emerged and is known as artificial intelligence (Al). It is developing at a rapid and astonishing pace and carries much good for humanity— if used correctly. In this regard, I warn against three matters related to artificial intelligence.”

1.0 First Warning

The first is using it to seek religious verdicts. Some people have started using Al to find rulings on contemporary issues they face. The sheikh has even encountered someone saying,

“We no longer need scholars, it’s just a matter of pressing a button to know the ruling on a matter.”

This is not permissible, and it is one of the causes of misguidance. The sheikh compares this issue like someone collecting wood at night it gathers answers from various websites, which may include unreliable sources, and it may attribute statements to scholars that they never said.

Moreover, issuing a fatwa (religious verdict) is connected to the context of the particular case, and such situations have surrounding circumstances that may change the ruling. So fear Allah, and do not use Al to determine rulings on the issues that befall you.

I believe this has become increasingly common within the Muslim community today. Many turn to ChatGPT, seeking religious advice and guidance from it. But dear friends, AI is merely a tool, a creation of technology. It is not designed to interpret or analyse sacred texts as our scholars do. Most of the answers provided by AI are compilations drawn from the surface of the internet. And if those sources happen to include information from misguided individuals or sects that deviate from the teachings of the Qur’an and the Sunnah, what then?

2.0 Second Warning

The Sheikh warns the students of knowledge against relying entirely on Al to collect material for what they present to the people. Al is like someone collecting wood at night, it gathers both good and evil, right and wrong. Therefore, it is obligatory upon the student of knowledge, if they use it to verify the information, they must review it, scrutinise it, and authenticate it.

I recalled one of my friends’s warning regarding this. He said,

“To the students who are studying religion, do not ask AI to summarise your books. Rather, study the language of Arabic and listen to the lectures about it. AI cannot comprehend nor understand the complex and detailed contents of the book.”

Even though he was specifying this to religious texts, I believe it is applicable to anything that involves learning and gaining knowledge. What is the purpose of studying, my friends? It is to learn, to grow, and to benefit from the knowledge we gain. If you ask AI to complete your work, for instance, to write an essay on your behalf, then what becomes of the intellect that God has blessed you with?

AI exists to assist, not to replace. Instead of asking it to do your work, such as writing essays, use it to seek guidance: request outlines, key points, or explanations. From there, build upon those ideas and create your own work.

3.0 Third Warning

For the last matter, the sheikh warns against using AI to harm the believing men and women by lying against them and fabricating videos falsely attributed to them. This involves several crimes:

1. The first crime: It’s spreading lies far and wide, and this is among the major sins and causes of the punishment of the grave and the Hellfire. We seek refuge in Allah from His punishment.

2. The second crime: It causes harm to the believing men and women, it harms the one accused, and it harms his family, his neighbours, and his loved ones.

3. The third crime: When one’s lying about a believer by attributing to him something he did not say or do. The Prophet ﷺ has said:

   “Whoever says about a believer what is not true, Allah will make him dwell in ‘Radghat al-Khabal’ until he retracts what he said.”

The sheikh informs that “Radghat al-Khabal,” is a vile, muddy place in Hell where the pus, blood, and sweat of the people of Hellfire gather. We seek refuge in Allah from such an evil state.

4. The fourth crime: When one’s lying against Allah and lying

   against the religion of Allah. They attribute to a well-known and reputable person that he said,

   “The religion of Allah requires such and such”

   While he (fulan) has never said that. In reality, they are lying against Allah and lying against His religion, and this is among the most severe of what Allah has prohibited.

5. The fifth crime: When one uses AI to deceive the believing men and women. Someone who trusts that scholar or sheikh may hear the clip and assume he said it, and assume that it is from the religion of Allah and this is among the gravest forms of deception to the Muslims.

So fear Allah, and use the blessings of Allah in ways that please Him, draw you closer to Him, or are permitted by Him. so that you may succeed.

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)

For the past two days, I've occupied myself with a paper focusing on Surah al-Baqara by Sheikh Suleiman Hani. I found it interesting and figured more people should give it a read. However, I realised that the level of language used (as well as the academic format) may be difficult for others to understand. Therefore, in this entry, by God’s will, I’m retelling the paper to you, in ways (I hope), that you can understand, much easier. This is the longest entry (as of now) which has 13 parts. Do take your time to read and pause if needed. It may be overwhelming, so don’t force yourself to finish it 💌. However, I do recommend reading the full paper here for a deeper understanding of the topic. You may find the sources at footnotes too.

Without further ado, let us dive deep into the canopy of the Qur’an.

1.0 An Encounter Beneath The Stars

One night, Usayd ibn Ḥuḍayr stood beneath the night sky, reciting Surah al-Baqara. His horse, tied close by, grew restless each time he resumed his recitation, yet calmed whenever he paused. Fearing for his son Yahya, who was near the horse, Ibn Ḥuḍayr lifted him up. At that moment, when he raised his eyes, he saw the sky filled with something extraordinary—what looked like a cloud, shining with lamps.

The next morning, he told the Prophet ﷺ about this vision.

The Prophet ﷺ said: “Recite, O Ibn Ḥuḍayr! Recite, O Ibn Ḥuḍayr!”
He replied, “O Allah’s Messenger ﷺ! My son, Yahya, was near the horse and I was afraid that it might trample him, so I looked towards the sky, and went to him. When I looked at the sky, I saw something like a cloud containing what looked like lamps, so I went out in order not to see it.”
The Prophet ﷺ asked, “Do you know what that was?”
“No,” replied Ibn Ḥuḍayr.
“Those were angels who came near to you for your voice,” said the Prophet ﷺ. “If you had kept on reciting till dawn, it would have remained there till morning when people would have seen it, as it would not have disappeared.”

This story shows how the Qur’an bridges heaven and earth. The angels themselves were drawn to the recitation of Surah al-Baqara, descending as lights in the sky. For those who recite it, even unseen, such blessings surround them.

2.0 Why Surah al-Baqara Matters

Surah al-Baqara is not only the longest chapter of the Qur’an but also one of the most comprehensive. It is a surah of blessings (baraka), protection, guidance, and intercession.

It contains:

1. The greatest verse of the Qur’an: Ayat al-Kursi (2:255).

2. The longest verse of the Qur’an on debt and contracts (2:282).

3. Two special verses revealed from beneath the Throne during the Prophet’s night journey.

4. Likely the final verse revealed in the Qur’an.

5. More than one hundred references to Allah.

6. Stories of earlier prophets and communities.

7. Clear rulings on worship, family, society, economy, and ethics.

No wonder Ibn Masʿud (RA) said: “Everything has a peak, and the peak of the Qur’an is al-Baqara.”

3.0 The Names of Surah al-Baqara

Scholars have given this surah several names, each reflecting its greatness:

1. Al-Baqara (The Cow):
   Named after the story of the Israelites and the cow (2:67–73). It reminds us of obedience and the dangers of stubbornness in faith.

2. Fusṭāṭ al-Qur’an (The Canopy of the Qur’an):
   This term signifies the surah’s comprehensive treatment of articles of creed (ʿaqida), legal rulings (ahkam), and spiritual guidance (huda).

3. Sanām al-Qur’an (The Peak of the Qur’an):
   This title—taken from the famous saying of Ibn Masʿud—emphasises the surah’s elevated status and comprehensive guidance.

4. Al-Zahraʾ (The Radiant):
   Shared with Surah Aal ʿImran. In Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, the Prophet ﷺ said: “Recite the two radiant ones: al-Baqara and Aal ʿImran…”

   

4.0 Themes of Surah al-Baqara

This surah paints a complete picture of human response to divine guidance:

1. Believers: Those who accept and follow the truth.

2. Disbelievers: Those who reject outright.

3. Hypocrites: Those who pretend faith but conceal disbelief.

4. People of the Book: Those who received earlier revelations.

Within this framework, Surah al-Baqara reaffirms the three essentials of faith:

1. Tawhid (Oneness of Allah).

2. The Prophetic message.

3. The Hereafter.

At the same time, it provides rulings on prayer, fasting, family matters, financial dealings, justice, and community life. It also reflects on the history of the Children of Israel, warning Muslims not to repeat their mistakes.

(Just a quick side note: If you’re wondering why the al-Baqara focuses on the jews, it’s because the Prophet ﷺ had direct encounters with the jewish tribe. Similarly, in al-Imran, it focuses on the christians because the Prophet ﷺ had a direct encounter with them)

5.0 The Virtues of Reciting Surah al-Baqara

1. Intercession on the Day of Judgment

“‏ اقْرَءُوا الْقُرْآنَ فَإِنَّهُ يَأْتِي يَوْمَ الْقِيَامَةِ شَفِيعًا لأَصْحَابِهِ اقْرَءُوا الزَّهْرَاوَيْنِ الْبَقَرَةَ وَسُورَةَ آلِ عِمْرَانَ فَإِنَّهُمَا تَأْتِيَانِ يَوْمَ الْقِيَامَةِ كَأَنَّهُمَا غَمَامَتَانِ أَوْ كَأَنَّهُمَا غَيَايَتَانِ أَوْ كَأَنَّهُمَا فِرْقَانِ مِنْ طَيْرٍ صَوَافَّ تُحَاجَّانِ عَنْ أَصْحَابِهِمَا اقْرَءُوا سُورَةَ الْبَقَرَةِ فَإِنَّ أَخْذَهَا بَرَكَةٌ وَتَرْكَهَا حَسْرَةٌ وَلاَ تَسْتَطِيعُهَا الْبَطَلَةُ ‏”

(Sahih Muslim)

Abu Umāma reported: The Prophet ﷺ said,
“Recite the Qur’an, for on the Day of Resurrection it will come as an intercessor for those who recite it. Recite the two bright ones, al-Baqara and Surah Aal ʿImran, for on the Day of Resurrection they will come as two clouds or two shades, or two flocks of birds in ranks, pleading for those who recite them. Recite Surah al-Baqara, for to take recourse to it is a blessing and to give it up is a cause of grief, and magicians cannot confront it.”

Surah al-Baqara becomes a companion for its reciter. Its words that once shaped our lives on earth will defend us in the Hereafter.

2. Leading the Qur’an’s Companions

“‏يؤتى يوم القيامة بالقرآن وأهله الذين كانو يعملون به في الدنيا تقدمه سورة البقرة وآل عمران تحاجان عن صاحبهما ‏”

(Riyad as-Salihin)

Al-Nawwās ibn Samʿān (RA) reported:

The Messenger of Allah ﷺ said,
“The Qur’an will be brought on the Day of Resurrection, along with its companions who used to act by it, at the front being Surah al-Baqara and Aal-ʿImran. He likened them to three things which I did not forget. He said they will be like two clouds, or two black canopies with light between them, or like two flocks of birds in ranks pleading for one who recited them.”

Here, the Prophet ﷺ emphasises not just recitation, but living by the Qur’an. Surah al-Baqara leads the way, representing both belief and action.

3. Protection in Daily Life

“‏ “لا تجعلوا بيوتكم مقابر، إن الشيطان ينفر من البيت الذي تقرأ فيه سورة البقرة‏‏

(Riyad as-Salihin)

Abu Hurayra (RA) reported:

The Prophet ﷺ said, “Do not turn your households into graveyards. Indeed, the devils flee from a household that has Surah al-Baqara recited in it.”

This hadith shows its benefit even in the present world. A house without Qur’an is lifeless, like a graveyard. But with Surah al-Baqara, the home comes alive, filled with peace and protection.

4. Baraka – The Blessing of Surah al-Baqara

Baraka means divine blessing—an unseen increase in goodness. It can make little feel like much, bring peace to a home, or fill time with deep meaning.

Surah al-Baqara is a source of this baraka. Even though it is the longest surah, those who recite it find their time and life enriched, not burdened. On the other hand, neglecting it leads to regret, as the hadith warns.

6.0 Ayat al-Kursi: The Greatest Verse

ٱللَّهُ لَآ إِلَـٰهَ إِلَّا هُوَ ٱلْحَىُّ ٱلْقَيُّومُ ۚ لَا تَأْخُذُهُۥ سِنَةٌۭ وَلَا نَوْمٌۭ ۚ لَّهُۥ مَا فِى ٱلسَّمَـٰوَٰتِ وَمَا فِى ٱلْأَرْضِ ۗ مَن ذَا ٱلَّذِى يَشْفَعُ عِندَهُۥٓ إِلَّا بِإِذْنِهِۦ ۚ يَعْلَمُ مَا بَيْنَ أَيْدِيهِمْ وَمَا خَلْفَهُمْ ۖ وَلَا يُحِيطُونَ بِشَىْءٍۢ مِّنْ عِلْمِهِۦٓ إِلَّا بِمَا شَآءَ ۚ وَسِعَ كُرْسِيُّهُ ٱلسَّمَـٰوَٰتِ وَٱلْأَرْضَ ۖ وَلَا يَـُٔودُهُۥ حِفْظُهُمَا ۚ وَهُوَ ٱلْعَلِىُّ ٱلْعَظِيمُ (2:255)

(Allah! There is no god ˹worthy of worship˺ except Him, the Ever-Living, All-Sustaining. Neither drowsiness nor sleep overtakes Him. To Him belongs whatever is in the heavens and whatever is on the earth. Who could possibly intercede with Him without His permission? He ˹fully˺ knows what is ahead of them and what is behind them, but no one can grasp any of His knowledge—except what He wills ˹to reveal˺. His Seat encompasses the heavens and the earth, and the preservation of both does not tire Him. For He is the Most High, the Greatest.)

The Prophet ﷺ described Ayat al-Kursi (2:255) as the greatest verse in the Qur’an. It speaks of Allah’s power, His names and attributes, His perfection, and His supreme right to be worshipped alone. For the believer, it is a verse that dismantles pride, reminding us of how fragile and dependent we are—and how eternal and self-sufficient Allah is.

One day, the Prophet ﷺ asked Ubayy ibn Kaʿb:

“O Abu al-Mundhir, which verse from the Book of Allah is the greatest, according to you?”
Ubayy replied, “Allah and His Messenger ﷺ know best.” The Prophet ﷺ repeated his question, and Ubayy answered: “Allah, there is no god but He, the Living, the Eternal”—reciting Ayat al-Kursi. The Prophet ﷺ placed his hand on his chest and said: “Rejoice in your knowledge, O Abu al-Mundhir!”

Imam al-Nawawi explains why scholars called this the greatest verse: it gathers in one ayah the foundations of Allah’s names and attributes—His divinity, oneness, life, knowledge, dominion, power, and will. These seven principles are like pillars upholding the entire understanding of who Allah is.

Another narration deepens its significance. Abu Hurayra once caught a thief stealing charity. The man begged to be released and offered him advice: “When you go to bed, recite Ayat al-Kursi, and Allah will appoint a guardian for you until morning. Satan will not come near you.” When the Prophet ﷺ heard the story, he said, “He told you the truth, though he is a liar. That was a devil.”

This verse, then, is not only theology—it is protection, a fortress at night, a cure for anxiety, and a weapon against Shayṭān.

The Prophet ﷺ also said: “Whoever reads Ayat al-Kursi after each obligatory prayer, nothing prevents him from entering Paradise except death.”

Just as al-Fātiḥa must be recited in every prayer, Ayat al-Kursi is recommended after every prayer. It is both shield and ladder: a shield against harm in this world, and a ladder raising us toward Paradise.

7.0 The Kursi and the Throne (ʿArsh)

…ۚ وَسِعَ كُرْسِيُّهُ ٱلسَّمَـٰوَٰتِ وَٱلْأَرْضَ ۖ وَلَا يَـُٔودُهُۥ حِفْظُهُمَا ۚ وَهُوَ ٱلْعَلِىُّ ٱلْعَظِيمُ”

Ayat al-Kursi ends with the line: “His Kursi extends over the heavens and the earth.” This verse opens the door to one of the most awe-inspiring topics in Islamic theology: the Kursi and the Throne (ʿArsh).

The Prophet ﷺ once said: “There was Allah, and nothing existed before Him, and His Throne was on the water. Then He created the heavens and the earth, and He wrote all things in the Preserved Tablet.”

The Throne predates the heavens, surpassing them in majesty and vastness. About its scale, the Prophet ﷺ said: “I have been permitted to tell you about one of the angels who carry the Throne: the distance between the lobe of his ear and his shoulder is like that of seven hundred years of travel.”

Such narrations don’t just give us images of size—they underline Allah’s absolute greatness, since even His greatest creations are beyond our imagination.

The Throne also crowns Paradise. The Prophet ﷺ urged us: “When you ask of Allah, ask Him for al-Firdaus, for it is the central and highest part of Paradise. Above it is the Throne of the Most Merciful, and from it spring forth the rivers of Paradise.”

Ibn al-Qayyim summarised it beautifully: “The Throne is the roof of creation.”

8.0 Kursi vs. Throne

Scholars have discussed at length what exactly the Kursi is. Ibn ʿAbbas (RA) said: “The Kursi is the place of the Feet, and the Throne—no one knows its size except Allah.”

In another report, he said: “The heavens and the earth compared to the Kursi are like seven coins set in a shield. And the Kursi compared to the Throne is like a ring thrown into a desert.”

The narration is describing the relationship between three things:

1. The heavens and the earth (everything we can see and know of the created universe).

2. The Kursi (Allah’s “Footstool”).

3. The Throne (ʿArsh) of Allah, which is even greater.

Now the Prophet ﷺ (and scholars like Ibn Abbas when explaining this) used objects we can imagine to help us grasp the scale.

• First, he says: “The heavens and the earth compared to the Kursi are like seven coins set in a shield.”
  Imagine a huge round shield, and then place a few little coins on it. The coins are tiny and almost insignificant compared to the size of the shield. That’s how all of creation—the heavens and the earth—look when compared to the Kursi.

• Then he adds: “And the Kursi compared to the Throne is like a ring thrown into a desert.”
  Now imagine a massive empty desert. You throw a small ring into it. The ring is practically invisible compared to the vast desert. That’s how the Kursi looks when compared to the Throne.

So the point is: even though the heavens and the earth already feel unimaginably huge to us, in reality they are very small compared to Allah’s Kursi. And the Kursi itself—despite being so great—is tiny compared to Allah’s Throne.

It’s not to make us picture these things physically, but rather to remind us of Allah’s absolute greatness and power. The metaphor is teaching humility: if everything we know is that small, then how Great is Allah, the One who owns it all?

Some scholars, like Imam al-Tabari, took another view, interpreting the Kursi as Allah’s knowledge, pointing to the verse: “Its preservation does not tire Him” (2:255). For him, this fits the sense that Allah’s knowledge encompasses all things.

Others, like Ibn Taymiyya, emphasised that both the Kursi and the Throne are real creations—distinct and immense, but ultimately part of the created world, while Allah Himself is above all. Whether one takes the physical or metaphorical view, all scholars agree on one thing: we accept these descriptions without asking how (bi-lā kayf). The reality is beyond our grasp, but their message is clear—Allah’s authority, knowledge, and power extend over everything.

9.0 Applying Ayat al-Kursi in Our Life

When the verse says “To Him belongs whatever is in the heavens and the earth,” it’s not only about things we see—trees, stars, planets. It also includes the Kursi and the ʿArsh, which are unimaginably greater. Realising that these vast creations are still under Allah’s control should make the believer feel Allah’s total authority in their personal life too. It’s not just theology, it’s a reminder of submission and reliance.

Allah Himself is beyond the Kursi and the ʿArsh. He is not inside His creation, nor is He limited by it. This is called tanzīh—declaring Allah free from resemblance to creation. Thinking about the immensity of these creations should make you humble. It should stir awe, reverence, and also a stronger trust in Allah, knowing nothing in existence compares to Him. At the same time, the believer keeps the attitude of bilā kayf (“without asking how”)—accepting these realities without trying to imagine or define them physically.

Moving on, there are hadiths where Allah connects His Throne with His mercy—for example:

“ لَمَّا قَضَى اللَّهُ الْخَلْقَ، كَتَبَ فِي كِتَابِهِ عَلَى نَفْسِهِ، فَهُوَ مَوْضُوعٌ عِنْدَهُ: إِنَّ رَحْمَتِي تَغْلِبُ غَضَبِي”

(Hadith Qudsi, also related with al-Bukhari, an-Nasa’i and Ibn Majah)

On the authority of Abu Hurayrah (may Allah be pleased with him), who said that the Prophet(ﷺ) said: When Allah decreed the Creation He pledged Himself by writing in His book which is laid down with Him: “My mercy prevails over my wrath.”

This means the Throne is not just a symbol of majesty and power, but also of mercy that covers everything. So when a Muslim recites Ayat al-Kursi, they’re not only acknowledging Allah’s greatness and sovereignty, but also feeling comfort in His mercy.

Therefore, my dear friends, when you recite Ayat al-Kursi, don’t let it simply be something you utter verbally. Think of the Kursi, the Throne, Allah’s transcendence, His mercy—and let that shape your humility, awe, and trust.

10.0 Importance of the Last Two Verses

ءَامَنَ ٱلرَّسُولُ بِمَآ أُنزِلَ إِلَيْهِ مِن رَّبِّهِۦ وَٱلْمُؤْمِنُونَ ۚ كُلٌّ ءَامَنَ بِٱللَّهِ وَمَلَـٰٓئِكَتِهِۦ وَكُتُبِهِۦ وَرُسُلِهِۦ لَا نُفَرِّقُ بَيْنَ أَحَدٍۢ مِّن رُّسُلِهِۦ ۚ وَقَالُوا۟ سَمِعْنَا وَأَطَعْنَا ۖ غُفْرَانَكَ رَبَّنَا وَإِلَيْكَ ٱلْمَصِيرُ (2:285)

(The Messenger ˹firmly˺ believes in what has been revealed to him from his Lord, and so do the believers. They ˹all˺ believe in Allah, His angels, His Books, and His messengers. ˹They proclaim,˺ “We make no distinction between any of His messengers.” And they say, “We hear and obey. ˹We seek˺ Your forgiveness, our Lord! And to You ˹alone˺ is the final return.”)

لَا يُكَلِّفُ ٱللَّهُ نَفْسًا إِلَّا وُسْعَهَا ۚ لَهَا مَا كَسَبَتْ وَعَلَيْهَا مَا ٱكْتَسَبَتْ ۗ رَبَّنَا لَا تُؤَاخِذْنَآ إِن نَّسِينَآ أَوْ أَخْطَأْنَا ۚ رَبَّنَا وَلَا تَحْمِلْ عَلَيْنَآ إِصْرًۭا كَمَا حَمَلْتَهُۥ عَلَى ٱلَّذِينَ مِن قَبْلِنَا ۚ رَبَّنَا وَلَا تُحَمِّلْنَا مَا لَا طَاقَةَ لَنَا بِهِۦ ۖ وَٱعْفُ عَنَّا وَٱغْفِرْ لَنَا وَٱرْحَمْنَآ ۚ أَنتَ مَوْلَىٰنَا فَٱنصُرْنَا عَلَى ٱلْقَوْمِ ٱلْكَـٰفِرِينَ (2:286)

(Allah does not require of any soul more than what it can afford. All good will be for its own benefit, and all evil will be to its own loss. ˹The believers pray,˺ “Our Lord! Do not punish us if we forget or make a mistake. Our Lord! Do not place a burden on us like the one you placed on those before us. Our Lord! Do not burden us with what we cannot bear. Pardon us, forgive us, and have mercy on us. You are our ˹only˺ Guardian. So grant us victory over the disbelieving people.”)

Did you know that it is narrated that Allah had written these two verses two thousand years before He created the heavens and the earth? Additionally, when one is reciting them, they bring protection—if a house recites them for three nights, the hadith says no devil will enter it:

عَنِ النُّعْمَانِ بْنِ بَشِيرٍ عَنِ النَّبِيِّ صَلَّى اللَّهُ عَلَيْهِ وَسَلَّمَ قَالَ إِنَّ اللَّهَ كَتَبَ كِتَابًا قَبْلَ أَنْ يَخْلُقَ السَّمَوَاتِ وَالأَرْضَ بِأَلْفَيْ عَامٍ أَنْزَلَ مِنْهُ آيَتَيْنِ خَتَمَ بِهِمَا سُورَةَ الْبَقَرَةِ وَلاَ يُقْرَآنِ فِي دَارٍ ثَلاَثَ لَيَالٍ فَيَقْرَبُهَا شَيْطَانٌ

(Sunan al-Tirmidhi)

During the Prophet’s ﷺ Miʿraj (Night Journey), he was given three great gifts:

1. The five daily prayers

2. These last two verses

3. Forgiveness for those in his ummah who avoid shirk.

Some scholars even say these verses were given directly to the Prophet without Jibril’s mediation, making them more special and unique.

Because of their power, the early Muslims emphasised reciting them every night. ʿAli ibn Abi Talib (rA) said he couldn’t imagine a sensible person sleeping without them.

The Prophet ﷺ also said: “Whoever recites them at night, they will be sufficient for him.” Scholars debated what “sufficient” means—some said it covers for night prayers, others said it protects from devils or harm, and some said all of the above. Imam al-Nawawi wisely concluded that it probably includes all those meanings. Imam Ibn al-Qayyim agreed the same: these verses are a shield from all harm, spiritual and physical.

11.0 The Story Behind the Final Verses

لِّلَّهِ مَا فِى ٱلسَّمَـٰوَٰتِ وَمَا فِى ٱلْأَرْضِ ۗ وَإِن تُبْدُوا۟ مَا فِىٓ أَنفُسِكُمْ أَوْ تُخْفُوهُ يُحَاسِبْكُم بِهِ ٱللَّهُ ۖ فَيَغْفِرُ لِمَن يَشَآءُ وَيُعَذِّبُ مَن يَشَآءُ ۗ وَٱللَّهُ عَلَىٰ كُلِّ شَىْءٍۢ قَدِيرٌ (2:284)

Allah revealed: “To Allah belongs whatever is in the heavens and the earth. Whether you reveal what is in your hearts or conceal it, Allah will call you to account for it.” The companions were troubled—how could they bear accountability for thoughts and feelings in their hearts, which they had no full control over?

They went to the Prophet ﷺ, admitting their fear that this burden was beyond them. The Prophet’s ﷺ response was he reminded them not to respond like the Jews and Christians of the past who said: “We hear and disobey.” Instead, he taught them to say: “We hear and we obey. Your forgiveness, our Lord! And to You is the return.”

When they submitted with this attitude, Allah revealed the verses that follow (Qur’an 2:285–286). Allah then revealed:

1. “Allah does not burden a soul beyond what it can bear.”

   • This verse effectively lifted the earlier fear, reassuring them that accountability was tied to what they could control, not uncontrollable inner thoughts.

   • The final verses end with a heartfelt duʿa that Allah Himself accepted.

12.0 The Duʿa in the Final Verses

لَا يُكَلِّفُ ٱللَّهُ نَفْسًا إِلَّا وُسْعَهَا ۚ لَهَا مَا كَسَبَتْ وَعَلَيْهَا مَا ٱكْتَسَبَتْ ۗ رَبَّنَا لَا تُؤَاخِذْنَآ إِن نَّسِينَآ أَوْ أَخْطَأْنَا ۚ رَبَّنَا وَلَا تَحْمِلْ عَلَيْنَآ إِصْرًۭا كَمَا حَمَلْتَهُۥ عَلَى ٱلَّذِينَ مِن قَبْلِنَا ۚ رَبَّنَا وَلَا تُحَمِّلْنَا مَا لَا طَاقَةَ لَنَا بِهِۦ ۖ وَٱعْفُ عَنَّا وَٱغْفِرْ لَنَا وَٱرْحَمْنَآ ۚ أَنتَ مَوْلَىٰنَا فَٱنصُرْنَا عَلَى ٱلْقَوْمِ ٱلْكَـٰفِرِينَ (2:286)

(Allah does not require of any soul more than what it can afford. All good will be for its own benefit, and all evil will be to its own loss. ˹The believers pray,˺ “Our Lord! Do not punish us if we forget or make a mistake. Our Lord! Do not place a burden on us like the one you placed on those before us. Our Lord! Do not burden us with what we cannot bear. Pardon us, forgive us, and have mercy on us. You are our ˹only˺ Guardian. So grant us victory over the disbelieving people.”)

These closing supplications cover different needs:

1. “Do not punish us if we forget or make a mistake.” (Human weakness)

2. “Do not place on us burdens like those before us.” (Hardship in law and obligations)

3. “Do not burden us with what we cannot bear.” (Hardship in qadr—tests of life like illness, fear, poverty—or in divine law)

4. “Pardon us, forgive us, and have mercy on us.” (Seeking Allah’s compassion)

5. “You are our Guardian, so grant us victory over the disbelieving people.” (Empowerment in this world and victory for faith).

   

13.0 Insights on Theological Aspects:

1. About Divine Decree (Qadr):

   Some scholars explained “burden” as life’s tests—illness, poverty, emotional trials. Allah never decrees something beyond your ability to endure.

2. About Divine Law (Taklīf):

   Others explained it as religious obligations. The principle in Islamic law is that Allah never commands the impossible. Duties are always within human capacity.

Together, these affirm Allah’s justice and mercy: His tests and laws are demanding, but never impossible.

Therefore, these verses are important for us muslims to remember and reflect. These verses are seen as treasures given directly to the Prophet ﷺ during the Miʿrāj, making them unique. Reciting them at night is a shield from devils and suffices as protection and worship. That’s why ʿAli (RA) said he couldn’t imagine anyone sleeping without reciting them.

They remind the believer to live by the attitude: “We hear and we obey.”

Final Words

The final verses of Surah al-Baqara are a dialogue of mercy between Allah and His servants. The companions feared being crushed by accountability, but their sincere submission opened the way for Allah’s reassurance: I will not burden you beyond what you can bear.

These verses (also the entire surah) are not just to be read—they are to be lived, recited, taught to children, and carried as nightly protection. They are Allah’s gift to this ummah: a canopy of mercy, a shield from hardship, and a prayer whose acceptance is guaranteed.

(Author’s thoughts)

I know that reciting these verses at night may feel challenging, let alone reading the entire surah. After all, Surah al-Baqara is the longest chapter in the Qur’an, and for many of us, reading the Qur’an can sometimes feel heavy or tiring. But difficulty should never mean abandonment. Now that we understand the immense power and blessing contained in these last two verses, we can begin gradually, perhaps once a week, then twice a week, until with patience and effort it becomes part of our daily routine.

Consistency, after all, is not a race. It doesn’t mean you have to perfect the practice within the same month you begin. Consistency looks different for everyone, just as faith (īmān) rises and falls in different ways for each of us. For one person, it may take two months to build the habit; for another, five months or more. What matters is not counting the days, but counting the sincerity of your efforts to improve your ʿibādah.

So long as you are striving, may Allah accept your worship, strengthen your resolve, and make the path of consistency easy and beloved to you.

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)

Assalamualaikum Warahmatullahi Wabarakatuh.

It has been a while since I did my entry, forgive me. I have been busy with my studies and unable to update my entries frequently. Recently I finished Layla Majnun, and my final comment is simple: going against God’s qadr is our ruination.

Layla Majnun is a beautiful, terrible love; the sort of story that feels like a wound and a hymn at once. On the surface it reads like the sweetest, most poetic obsession: a lover who adorns the beloved with every breath, a heart that gives itself up completely. Yet when you sit with the book longer, the sweetness turns bitter. The very intensity of Majnun’s love becomes his punishment.

He prays and waits for a sign…and when the sign offered by the Divine does not match his desire, he rages. He refuses the shape of fate, he fights the decree, and his rebellion collapses him into ruin.

1.0 Love, Desire, and the Temptation to Refuse God’s Decree

Majnun’s mistake is this: he stakes his salvation on what he wants rather than on what God wills.

He begs God for a signal, and when the answer comes in a form that contradicts his imagination, he rejects it. That rejection is not stubborn piety; it is the self-confidence in prayer, the very human demand that God answer on our terms. Majnun’s collapse is the portrait of a soul that cannot accept the Divine wisdom that arranges events according to a knowledge beyond ours.

The classical literary and mystical readings of the poem (especially in Persian and Sufi traditions) show multiple layers:

1. One can read Majnun as the mystic yearning for annihilation (fanâ) in the Beloved.

2. One can read Majnun as a man undone by selfish attachment.

Both ways of reading are possible, and that contrast teaches us something : the same fire that can purify when directed toward God can also destroy when it is directed only toward the self.

2.0 What the Qur’an Says

When we judge Majnun, the Qur’an gives us a mirror. A few verses are especially piercing when placed beside his story:

“Fighting has been enjoined upon you while it is hateful to you. But perhaps you hate a thing and it is good for you; and perhaps you love a thing and it is bad for you. And Allāh knows while you do not know.” (2:216).

This line is the hammer to Majnun’s logic: desire is not an infallible compass. The heart may crave what will harm it; the eye may yearn for what will chain it. Only God, the Knower of unseen consequences can judge what is truly good.

“And We will surely test you with something of fear and hunger and a loss of wealth and lives and fruits, but give good tidings to the patient.” (2:155–156).

Majnun’s loss, his social exile and bereavement, are the very kinds of tests exist in the Qur’an. What one is recommended to do is sabr (patience) and the phrase ʾinnā lillāhi wa ʾinnā ilayhi rājiʿūn (Indeed we belong to God and to Him we return), surrendering oneself over outcomes is something that Majnun never fully practices.

“Say, ‘Never will we be struck except by what Allāh has decreed for us; He is our protector.’ And upon Allāh let the believers rely.” (9:51).

Trusting God’s plan doesn’t mean giving up. It means choosing to act while knowing that God’s wisdom guides the outcome. Majnun’s mistake was asking God to change fate to match his wishes (which goes against the very purpose of prayer).

“No disaster strikes upon the earth or among yourselves except that it is in a register before We bring it into being.” (57:22).

The painful parts of the story : forced marriages, parents’ deaths, exile, are not just random tragedies. In the Qur’an’s view, they are part of God’s greater plan, written with wisdom that we may not understand or be able to change.

“Allāh does not burden a soul beyond that it can bear.” (2:286).

Even a grief as sharp as Majnun’s exists within limits set by God’s mercy. That is not to minimise suffering, but to insist on perspective: human suffering can be meaningful, and submission to that meaning is the spiritual medicine Majnun refuses.

These verses do not deny pain; they contextualise it. They ask a believer to trade the tiny, personal map of desire for the larger, unknowable map of divine wisdom. What is greater than trusting Allah? Did He not create the pen? Is there any leaf that falls from any tree without Him knowing? So why must we question His plan? When we have created nothing but He, the exalted, has created the universe?

3.0 Majnun’s Prayer for Signs and Our Own Demand for Divine Proofs

Majnun begs for signals. We do too, in different ways. We pray for one door to open and then call God unjust when a different door closes. The Qur’an repeatedly asks us to accept what comes with humility, and to anchor hope in God rather than in a particular outcome.

There is a pedagogical cruelty in tests: they reveal what we truly trust. Majnun’s refusal to accept is not merely an intellectual disagreement with fate but it is a spiritual diagnosis: his heart’s attachment is to an image of Layla, not to the Beloved.

Dear friends, we must remember that even if something we love is good and allowed in Islam, God’s plan might still guide us away from it because He knows what is better for us. For example, someone might love a person deeply and want to marry them. That person could be kind, practicing, and good, but for reasons only God knows, the marriage doesn’t happen.

Later, they may find a different spouse who brings them closer to Allah, supports their faith, and gives them peace in ways they couldn’t have imagined. In that case, God’s ‘no’ was not cruelty, but redirection toward a greater good.

Majnun’s mistake was that he turned his love for Layla into something above everything else, almost like an idol. Instead of trusting God’s wisdom, he demanded that his love be fulfilled no matter the cost, and that is why he fell into ruin.

4.0 Two Faces of Majnun: Martyrdom of the Heart, or Self-destruction?

Again, the story can be read as mystical martyrdom, the lover who loses himself entirely is, in Sufi terms, on the path to annihilation in the Divine. Some mystics intentionally embrace the “mad” lover as an emblem of the soul that dies to itself. Yet there is also a moral caution: a love that refuses God’s wisdom and becomes an instrument of social harm, isolation, and despair is self-ruinous.

Majnun’s ruin is not only because he loved; it is because he loved in place of God’s sovereignty. He asked God to serve his desire, and when God did not, he rebelled. The Qur’anic counsel would instead teach him to say, to the pain and to the unexpected outcome: “Allāh is the best disposer of affairs.” This is the remedy for a heart that demands answers, proofs rather than submitting to trust, tawakkul in Allah’s plan.

So, what can we learn from the story of Layla and Majnun?

1. Desire is not evidence. What the heart wants is not automatically what is good. “You may love something and it may be bad for you.” (2:216.) Learn to hold desires lightly and test them against ethical wisdom and divine guidance.

2. Prayer plus submission. Dua (supplication) is beautiful but prayer becomes toxic when it contains a demand for a specific outcome rather than a request for what is best. Pair requests with tawakkul (trust).

3. Patience must be active. Sabr is not passivity. It is the active re-orientation of the will under suffering, turning a wound into a stepping stone rather than a tomb.

4. Beware of doing self-annihilation and self-destruction. Mystical language about “dying to the self” can be noble when it is directed to God; but when directed to desire, it is death.

5. Remember the larger story. The Qur’an insists we do not see the full story, we never will. Live by that humility: “Allāh knows while you do not know.”

However, there is something gravely beautiful about Majnun: he shows us what loving a person wholly, truly, with your whole being looks like. Talented as a poem and tragic as a life, Layla Majnun warns us that to make our desire into a divine claim is to create a doom of our own making. The cure the Qur’an offers is neither resignation nor bitterness, but the harder grace of trusting God’s wisdom when our comforts are taken, our signs come in unexpected forms, and our most fervent request seem unanswered.

May we learn, like the believers the Qur’an praises, to make our prayers wide enough to contain God’s answer even when it is not the answer we dreamed in the depth of our heart.

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)

On Tuesday, 15th of July, I attended a tausiah or lecture by Sheikh Dr. Mohammad Akram Nadwi. He dissected the meaning behind Surah Al-Mulk, based on the Kitab Tafsir Al-Jalalayn. What is Tafsir Al-Jalalayn?

The Tafsir is a Qur’anic commentary composed in the fifteenth century by the two renowned Egyptian scholars—Jalāl al-Dīn Muḥammad ibn Aḥmad al-Maḥallī (d. 864 AH / 1459 CE), a jurist of the Shafi‘i school, and his student, the celebrated polymath Jalāl al-Dīn ‘Abd al-Raḥmān ibn Abī Bakr al-Suyūṭī (d. 911 AH / 1505 CE). It is among the most widely read Qur’anic exegeses in the Islamic world.

Of the great classical Sunni commentaries—often seen as forming an unofficial canon alongside the works of Ṭabarī, Rāzī, Qurṭubī, Bayḍāwī, and Ibn Kathīr, the Tafsir stands out for its brevity and clarity. This has made it a common entry point into the field of Tafsir. For many students and readers, particularly those who do not delve deeper into exegetical study, it remains the only Tafsir they engage with in depth.

Its accessibility, single-volume format, and frequent inclusion in the margins of printed Qurans have also contributed to its role as a practical reference. It is often consulted for quick explanations of Quranic vocabulary or meanings that may not be immediately clear, especially for contemporary readers. In this sense, its true strength lies not only in being a foundational Tafsir but also in serving as a go-to linguistic guide to the Quran’s text.

Now, in this lecture, the Sheikh talked about Surah Al-Mulk. By the mercy of Allah, I will share with you my notes of his lecture, so you can benefit from it too. Inshaa Allah.

1.0 The Structure of the Quran – A Divine Order

The sheikh began by drawing our hearts to an often overlooked truth: the Quran is not a compilation of random verses, stitched together without logic. It is a divine manuscript, arranged in the most perfect sequence, each surah holding hands with the next, flowing with divine wisdom.

Surah Al-Mulk sits not in isolation but between meanings that complement and complete each other. The surah before it ends on themes of punishment and divine authority, and the one after continues those reflections, anchoring us in humility.

Imam Al-Suyuti once wrote, “There is not a surah in the Qur’an but that it flows from what came before it, and leads naturally into what comes after.” In this way, Surah Al-Mulk stands as a gatekeeper, inviting reflection, yet warning those who reject the signs.

Imam Al-Suyuti dedicated a standalone treatise called Marāṣid al-Maṭāliʿ (Capturing the Beginnings) to demonstrate the evident symmetry or parity between the introduction and conclusion of each sūrah. He included Surah Al-Mulk, where It begins with mentioning God’s great power, (67:1) and concludes with the same concept—namely the creation’s inability by asking, 

“Who [else] could then bring you flowing water?” (67:30)

2.0 Verses 1–2: The Sovereignty of the King and the Test of Life

"Blessed is He in whose Hand is all dominion, and He is over all things competent"  (Al-Mulk, 67:1)

From the very first verse, Allah introduces Himself as al-Malik—The King—whose kingdom extends beyond perception. The seven heavens are but a glimpse of His might. His dominion is not passive; it is active, vibrant, governing every breath, every atom.

He did not create for sport or without meaning. Rather:

"[He] created death and life to test you [as to] which of you is best in deeds" (67:2).

Life is not measured by length, but by purpose. And purpose is rooted in recognising rububiyyah—Allah’s lordship over all things. When you look at the vast heavens, the order of the stars, the perfect balance in nature—how can the soul not tremble with awe?

3.0 Verses 5–6: The Devils Repelled and the Disbelievers Warned

The surah then shifts to remind us of the heavens’ guardianship. In verse 5, Allah tells us that He adorned the lowest heaven with stars: not just for beauty, but as missiles against devils who attempt to steal divine decrees.

"And We have made them (stars) missiles for the devils..." (67:5)

In Tafsir al-Jalalayn, it is clarified that these are literal stars, or fireballs that separate from them—symbols of the unseen world in protection of revelation. Immediately after, in verse 6, the disbelievers are addressed. Just as the rebellious jinn are repelled, those who deny Allah’s signs and refuse to use their reason will also face consequences—severe and just.

This is not vengeance. It is justice. The munasabah (contextual harmony) between verses is striking: just as the devils are driven away for their defiance, so too will the disbelievers be cast into Hell—for they chose blindness over insight.

4.0 Verse 7: The Roar of Hell—A Scene of Terror

"When they are thrown into it, they hear from it a [dreadful] inhaling while it boils up" (67:7).

The word "ulqoo" (إِذَآ أُلْقُوا۟) in Arabic carries the meaning of being flung or hurled violently. The Sheikh stated that these souls are not escorted, but discarded, and cast into a place that rejects them. Then, what do they hear? "Shahiq" (لَهَا شَهِيقًۭا)—a terrifying sound, as if Hell itself is gasping in rage.

Tafsir al-Jalalayn notes that this is the sound of Hell’s fury—a deep, monstrous breath that swells in its belly, waiting to explode. The image is harrowing. It can be interpreted that the hell is not passive, but rather it’s active, extremely angry, burning with rage for the disbelievers. 

A hadith in Sahih Muslim says: 

: حَدَّثَنَا عَلِيُّ بْنُ عَبْدِ اللَّهِ، قَالَ حَدَّثَنَا سُفْيَانُ، قَالَ حَفِظْنَاهُ مِنَ الزُّهْرِيِّ عَنْ سَعِيدِ بْنِ الْمُسَيَّبِ، عَنْ أَبِي هُرَيْرَةَ، عَنِ النَّبِيِّ صلى الله عليه وسلم قَالَ ‏"‏ إِذَا اشْتَدَّ الْحَرُّ فَأَبْرِدُوا بِالصَّلاَةِ، فَإِنَّ شِدَّةَ الْحَرِّ مِنْ فَيْحِ جَهَنَّمَ ‏"‏‏.‏ ‏"‏ وَاشْتَكَتِ النَّارُ إِلَى رَبِّهَا فَقَالَتْ يَا رَبِّ أَكَلَ بَعْضِي بَعْضًا‏.‏ فَأَذِنَ لَهَا بِنَفَسَيْنِ نَفَسٍ فِي الشِّتَاءِ، وَنَفَسٍ فِي الصَّيْفِ، فَهُوَ أَشَدُّ مَا تَجِدُونَ مِنَ الْحَرِّ، وَأَشَدُّ مَا تَجِدُونَ مِنَ الزَّمْهَرِيرِ ‏"‏‏.‏

Narrated by Abu Huraira: The Prophet (ﷺ) said, "In very hot weather delay the Zuhr prayer till it becomes (a bit) cooler because the severity of heat is from the raging of the Hell-fire. The Hell-fire of Hell complained to its Lord saying: O Lord! My parts are eating (destroying) one another. So Allah allowed it to take two breaths, one in the winter and the other in the summer. The breath in the summer is at the time when you feel the severest heat and the breath in the winter is at the time when you feel the severest cold."

Even Hell seeks balance from its anger.

5.0 Verse 8: The Fire's Wrath and the Question of Accountability

"It almost bursts with rage..." (67:8)

“Tamayyaz” (تَكَادُ تَمَيَّزُ) in Arabic suggests something splitting apart, unable to contain itself. The fire is enraged—not at itself, but at those who mocked the truth, who laughed at warnings, who said “It’s just tales of the ancients.” And then comes the divine interrogation. Every time a group is cast in, the angels ask:

“Did no warner come to you?” (أَلَمْ يَأْتِكُمْ نَذِيرٌۭ)

This is a question that stings the most, it will leave every disbeliever in silence, tongue-tied, unable to speak. Because the answer is always yes. A warner came. Maybe more than one. But they were ignored. Mocked. Or met with apathy. Allah never punishes without sending a messenger. 

The Quraan says in Surah Al-Isra’:

"And never would We punish until We sent a Messenger" (17:15).

Justice, again. Mercy, always preceding punishment.

6.0 Verse 10: The Misuse of Intellect

"And they will say: If only we had listened or reasoned, we would not be among the companions of the Blaze" (67:10).

Regret, thick and bitter, echoes in these words. In Tafsir al-Jalalayn, it is said that "na’qilu" (أَوْ نَعْقِلُ) here refers to using one’s ‘aql—reason—not just for worldly benefit, but to contemplate the truth of revelation, of purpose, of the Hereafter.

The intellect is a gift. But it becomes a curse when used only for dunya and never for akhirah. The Quran frequently links ‘aql with guidance. It asks over and over: "Will you not use your reason?"

They had ears. They had minds. But they closed both. And so they fell, not just into error, but into the Fire.

7.0 Verse 12–13: Fear, Knowledge, and the All-Knowing God

"Indeed, those who fear their Lord unseen will have forgiveness and a great reward..." (67:12)

Tafsir al-Jalalayn explains this fear arises from contemplating Allah’s power, signs, and attributes. It is the kind of fear that deepens love, not the fear of a tyrant, but of disappointing the Most Merciful.

And then verse 13 follows:

"And conceal your speech or publicise it; indeed, He is Knowing of that within the breasts."

Whether you whisper or shout, Allah hears it the same. And not only that—He knows the thoughts that live beneath the words. This shift from the external to the internal is profound. It reminds us that taqwa is not shown, because it’s rooted in the heart.

8.0 Verse 14: The One Who Knows You Best

"How could He not know His Own creation? For He ˹alone˺ is the Most Subtle, All-Aware." (67:14)

This is rhetorical and powerful. Of course He knows you. He made you. He knows what you speak, what you think, what you fear. He knows the hidden injuries, the sleepless nights, the sins you weep over. In Tafsir al-Jalalayn, it’s said that the verse rebukes those who think they can hide their intentions from Allah. His knowledge precedes your thoughts.

The Sheikh said that we think we know ourselves. But truly, we are strangers to our own hearts. The heart is a mirror—but how can it reflect truth if it is covered in rust? Only the One who created the mirror can see through the rust.

9.0 Verse 19: The Flight of Birds – Signs Above Us

"Do they not see the birds above them with wings outspread and [sometimes] folded in? None holds them [aloft] except the Most Merciful..." (67:19)

This is a verse of both reflection and mercy. Look up. The birds fly not by random chance. Their balance, their grace, their survival in mid-air is not instinct alone—it is a miracle, upheld moment by moment by Ar-Rahman.

Tafsir al-Jalalayn explains that this is a sign of Allah’s sustaining power. No wing can lift without His will. And if He upholds a bird in the sky, will He not uphold your heart through your trials?

10.0 Verse 21: The Illusion of Self-Sufficiency

"Or who is it that could provide for you if He withheld His provision?" (67:21)

This strikes at the heart of arrogance. Who feeds you? Who sends rain? Who allows crops to grow? It is not your job, your skills, your government. It is Allah. Yet the disbelievers remain in denial. They pretend they are in control. But deep down, every soul knows its dependence. As Allah says elsewhere:

"There is no creature on earth but that upon Allah is its provision..." (11:6)

To think we own anything is an illusion. To believe we can sustain ourselves is a fantasy. Allah gives and Allah withholds: and that alone should bring the heart to its knees.

In the end, Surah Al-Mulk stands as a guardian at the threshold of our nightly sleep and our eternal awakening. It whispers to the heart in the silence of the night, reminding us of the majesty of the unseen, the subtlety of divine knowledge, and the weight of human responsibility. Through the lens of Tafsir al-Jalalayn, these verses are living signs, gently calling the soul back to its Lord with both awe and affection.

What makes Tafsir al-Jalalayn so enduring is not just its clarity, but its accessibility. Its ability to bring forth oceans of meaning with the lightest of strokes. For those who wish to begin the journey into the Quran’s depth, it offers a door. For those who seek to remain close to the Quran in daily life, it offers a companion.

And as we recite Surah Al-Mulk, night after night, we are reminded that it is not just a shield from the punishment of the grave, as the Prophet ﷺ promised, but a mirror to the heart. It asks: have you seen the signs? Have you used your intellect? Do you fear your Lord, even in the unseen?

May our hearts not merely recite, but reflect. May our minds not merely read, but reason. And may our limbs follow what the soul now begins to feel: the tremble of love, and the fear, of the One who knows us better than we know ourselves.

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)

Before we understand what it means that the universe is “expanding,” we must first appreciate the stage upon which such a drama unfolds. Astronomy, the oldest of all natural sciences, is the study of celestial objects like stars, planets, galaxies, and ultimately the universe itself. It’s the science that attempts to read the story written in the stars, using mathematics, physics, and observational tools to understand the nature and structure of everything that lies beyond Earth.

Then the space, as we commonly imagine it, is not just empty blackness. It is a vast, silent arena, an ever-stretching expanse in which matter and energy dance to the rhythm of invisible laws. Earth is but a speck, a fragile blue dot suspended in a sunbeam, orbiting an average star in the suburbs of an average galaxy called the Milky Way. And even our galaxy is just one among billions. These galaxies, in turn, are not static islands scattered randomly; they are moving, drifting apart from one another like leaves on a pond blown outward by some ancient wind.

But was this always known? No.

For centuries, humanity imagined a static universe—fixed, unchanging, eternal. Even Aristotle believed the cosmos was perfect and motionless. Even Isaac Newton, whose laws of motion revolutionised physics, imagined a universe that was infinite and steady. Because during their time, the idea that the universe itself could be changing, much less expanding, was unthinkable.

But science is the art of surprise. It listens to the cosmos, and sometimes, the cosmos hides a secret we never imagined because we, humans, as we all know it, have limited knowledge and the universe owes us zero explanation.

1. The Discovery of an Expanding Universe

The story truly begins in the early 20th century. It was a time of intellectual revolution. Einstein had just published his General Theory of Relativity in 1915—a groundbreaking view of gravity not as a force but as the warping of space and time itself. His equations described how massive objects bend the space around them, like a bowling ball placed on a rubber sheet. But something unexpected emerged from these equations: the possibility that the universe could be dynamic; either expanding or contracting.

Einstein found this idea uncomfortable. Like most of his contemporaries, he believed the universe was static. So he inserted a "cosmological constant" into his equations to cancel out the effect of expansion, artificially forcing the universe to remain still. He would later call this his “greatest blunder.”

Then, we have Edwin Hubble, an American astronomer who, in the 1920s, was observing distant galaxies from Mount Wilson Observatory. Using the most powerful telescope of the time, Hubble made two crucial observations:

1. Galaxies are not stars within our galaxy. He confirmed that the "fuzzy" spiral nebulae seen in the night sky were not within the Milky Way; they were entire galaxies of their own, millions of light years away.

2. Galaxies are moving away from us. More astonishingly, he noticed that the light from these galaxies was redshifted. This redshift meant that their light waves were being stretched, suggesting that they were receding from Earth.

And not only that…they were all receding. And the farther a galaxy was, the faster it was moving away.

This was not motion through space, it was the expansion of space itself. Imagine dots drawn on a balloon. As you inflate the balloon, the dots grow farther apart—not because they are moving, but because the surface between them is stretching. So too is the fabric of the universe. Galaxies are not flying apart through empty space; space itself is swelling, like the breath of some cosmic being.

Hubble’s discovery in 1929 marked the beginning of modern cosmology. It meant the universe had a beginning. A moment when it was infinitely dense and small and it has been expanding ever since. This moment is what we now call the Big Bang. Not a bang in the conventional sense, but rather an explosion of space and time itself.

Over the next century, the evidence for expansion accumulated: the discovery of cosmic microwave background radiation (the afterglow of the Big Bang), the formation of light elements, and detailed observations of large-scale cosmic structures. Today, we even know that the expansion is accelerating, driven by an unknown force dubbed "dark energy."

Science, then, concluded: the universe is not eternal in form; it is ever-growing, ever-changing.

2. When Revelation Meets the Cosmos

And yet, for those who read not only the stars but the scripture, this conclusion wasn’t entirely new.

In Surah Adh-Dhariyat (51:47), Allah says:

“We built the universe with ˹great˺ might, and We are certainly expanding ˹it˺.”

The word "lamusioon" (لَمُوسِعُونَ) is derived from the root w-s-ʿ (و-س-ع), which carries the meaning of making something vast or expanding it. The structure of the verb used here is in the present continuous tense, implying that the act of expanding is ongoing.

Let that sink in. Do you not find it unfathomable? This is written in a book of revelation, completed decades, years before the ‘first’ discovery was made by the later generations!

More than 1400 years ago, in the deserts of Arabia, in a time when the dominant cosmological views were geocentric and static, the Quran spoke of an expanding universe. Not a poetic expansion. Not a metaphorical one. But a literal, physical expansion that modern science has only come to understand in the last century.

Is this coincidence? For the believer, no. This is authored by the One who created the heavens and the Earth, Lord of the Great Throne.

Islam’s relationship with astronomy isn’t recent either. The Golden Age of Islam, from the 8th to the 14th century, birthed a legion of astronomers: Al-Battani, Al-Tusi, Ibn al-Shatir; pioneers who charted the heavens not just for science, but for worship. They calculated prayer times, Qiblah direction, and lunar calendars. They believed that understanding the cosmos brought one closer to God, not away from Him.

The Quran frequently urges mankind to reflect on the stars, the moon, the orbits:

"Indeed, in the creation of the heavens and the earth and the alternation of the night and the day are signs for those of understanding."
(Surah Ali ‘Imran 3:190)

Here, observation is spiritual. Contemplation is worship. Inquiry is faith. To gaze into the stars is to gaze into the signs (Ayat) of the Divine.

3. What Does It Mean?

The physical expansion of the universe is a fact. But what about its meaning?

Here’s where science ends and philosophy begins. Because if the universe is expanding, does it imply purpose? A direction? A destiny?

In the Quranic worldview, the cosmos is not random. It was created with purpose:

"And We did not create the heaven and earth and what is between them in play."
(Surah Al-Anbiya 21:16)

Expansion, then, isn’t meaningless. It is the ongoing act of a Creator unfolding His will in the grandest possible way. It is the breath of divine intent moving through time. A universe that expands is a universe that began, and what begins must have been initiated. This is a powerful philosophical challenge to atheism and materialism.

And even more intimately, expansion reflects the human soul’s own journey. As the universe expands outward, so too must the heart expand inward, growing in mercy, knowledge, and awe. As creation widens, so too must our humility. We are not the center. We never were.

4. A Meeting of Worlds

So what do we find at the meeting point between Hubble’s telescope and the Qur’anic verse?

We find not contradiction, but completion.

• Science tells us how the universe expands. The Quran tells us why.

• Science gives us equations and evidence. The Quran gives us meaning and purpose.

• Science lets us map the stars. The Quran asks us to reflect upon them.

In the end, both are lights; one external, one internal. And in their convergence, the believer sees something beautiful:

That the heavens, in all their majestic breadth, are not just vast, but they are alive with the presence of their Creator.

And that, perhaps, is the greatest expansion of all.

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)

There is something hauntingly majestic about how Imam Al-Ghazali spoke of knowledge. Not merely as an intellectual pursuit, but as a sacred inheritance, a lifeline of the soul, and a duty bound to the heavens. It’s hard not to tremble a little when reading the way he brings together verse after verse, stitching them into something that gives us a reality check.

Imam Al-Ghazali’s view of knowledge isn’t framed as power in the way we often hear it today. Not as a tool to rise above others or to control the world, but as responsibility, as witness, as worship. When God says in the Qur'an (3:18),

"Allah ˹Himself˺ is a Witness that there is no god ˹worthy of worship˺ except Him—and so are the angels and people of knowledge. He is the Maintainer of justice. There is no god ˹worthy of worship˺ except Him—the Almighty, All-Wise."

It’s as though knowledge is elevated to the same rank of testifying truth as the angels. How extraordinary is that?

It is not an exaggeration to say that in Islam, knowledge is sacred. Not neutral. Not optional. Not a luxury. But a vital thread that connects the heavens to the earth.

1. The Sacred Rank of Knowledge in Islam

Imam Al-Ghazali begins his discourse by pointing to a verse that is both subtle and magnificent:

"Allah ˹Himself˺ is a Witness that there is no god ˹worthy of worship˺ except Him—and so are the angels and people of knowledge...." (Surah Ali ‘Imran, 3:18)

Imagine that. The very act of testifying to God's oneness, arguably the highest truth, is shared by only three witnesses: God Himself, His angels, and the learned. Not kings. Not warriors. Not even saints. The learned.

You have to understand that this is a direct revelation of status. Knowledge, in Islam, is not something you acquire to get a good job or win debates. It is a divine function. It places you in the company of the unseen—of angels—and positions you as a bearer of truth on behalf of the Divine.

And it gets even more staggering. Hazrat Ibn Abbas is reported to have said that the rank of a learned person is seven hundred times higher than that of a regular believer—and the distance between those ranks is like a journey of five hundred years. Therefore, the learned aren’t just respected, but they are cosmically elevated.

“Are those who know equal to those who do not know?” (Surah Az-Zumar, 39:9)
“Only those among His servants who have knowledge truly fear God.” (Surah Fatir, 35:28)

2. Knowledge is Light, Not Just Information

Imam Al-Ghazali doesn’t reduce knowledge to intellect. He expands it to something spiritual, something that’s more alive. The Qur’an is filled with metaphors that turn knowledge into light:

“It is a clear sign in the hearts of those who have been given knowledge.” (Surah Al-Ankabut, 29:48)

He makes us ponder: Where is your knowledge stored? In your books? On your tongue? Or is it in your heart?

He reminds us that even the practical aspects of religion—law, worship, ethics—are ultimately dependent on the investigations of the learned. Without knowledge, there is no structure. Without those who understand, practice becomes hollow or misguided.

3. The Scholar’s Ink and the Martyr’s Blood

One of the most striking hadiths the Prophet (peace be upon him) gave was this:

“The ink of the learned will be weighed against the blood of the martyrs.”

And not just that—it will be heavier. Think about it: while the martyr sacrifices his life in a moment of courage and love for God, the scholar gives his entire life, moment by moment, word by word, for the same cause. The knowledge that scholar carries has the power to awaken a thousand more martyrs, to save a generation from ignorance, to uplift an ummah from error.

The Prophet didn’t stop there. He said that everything in existence—from the angels, to the fish in the sea, to even the ants in the earth—seek forgiveness for the one who teaches good. How can one not be humbled by that?

4. Knowledge Without Action is a Shell

Imam Al-Ghazali is not naïve. He knew very well that knowledge could become a source of arrogance. He repeatedly warns against scholars who hoard knowledge but never act upon it—those who use it for pride, position, or argument, but not for transformation.

The Prophet said:

“The superiority of a learned man over a worshipper is like my superiority over the ordinary man.”

But he also made clear: that superiority exists only when the knowledge bears fruit. The knowledge that does not transform your heart is like a barren tree. Worse—it is a burden on the Day of Judgment.

Imam Al-Ghazali quotes:

“Should the day come wherein my knowledge for nearing God does not increase, let not the sun rise on that day.”

This is the spiritual ethic of the scholar: growth in knowledge must always mean growth in nearness to God.

5. The Scholar as a Successor to the Prophets

The Prophet said,

“The learned are the heirs of the prophets.”

Let that sit with you.

It’s not warriors. Not kings. Not even those who spend their nights in endless prayer. It’s the learned—those who carry the message, those who understand its roots, its laws, its truths, and pass it on.

Just like the prophets, they guide. They teach. They clarify. They warn. They heal the community with wisdom. And just like the prophets, they are not always appreciated in their time. But their reward is timeless.

6. The Consequences of Hiding Knowledge

Perhaps one of the most terrifying aspects in this entire reflection is Imam Al-Ghazali’s emphasis on what happens when knowledge is hidden. The Prophet warned:

“Whoever conceals knowledge, God will bridle him with fire on the Day of Judgment.”

This is because knowledge is not a private property. It’s a trust—a divine trust. Just like the prophets could not withhold revelation, scholars and seekers cannot withhold what they’ve been taught. Concealment, then, is a betrayal. And betrayal of trust is among the heaviest sins in our tradition.

We often look at knowledge as something to possess, when in reality, Imam Al-Ghazali is reminding us that it is something to carry with humility and deliver with duty. The idea that some students of knowledge—or even scholars—would act as if they own what they were entrusted with, as if they're the source rather than the conduit, is terrifying when you weigh it against the responsibility that the Prophet (peace be upon him) spoke of.

We need to name what this is: arrogance masked as piety. And it’s not new. Al-Ghazali himself lived in a time where scholars were already becoming attached to status, to argumentation, to the performance of knowledge rather than the spirit of it. That’s part of why Ihya’ ‘Ulum al-Din was written—to revive not just religious sciences, but the soul of them.

The problem when a so-called student of religion refuses to teach, explain, or share what they know, especially with those who are seeking truth sincerely—they don’t realise that they’re rejecting a covenant with God.

Imam Al-Ghazali, reflecting the Prophetic tradition, makes this crystal clear: God will not take knowledge away by erasing it from books, but by taking away the scholars. And when those scholars are replaced by ignorant leaders—who still give fatwas and rulings without understanding—that's when misguidance spreads. That's the cost of arrogance.

My friends, remember that there is no honour in hoarding something that was never yours to begin with. The Qur’an says:

“˹Remember, O Prophet,˺ when Allah took the covenant of those who were given the Scripture to make it known to people and not hide it, yet they cast it behind their backs and traded it for a fleeting gain. What a miserable profit!” (Surah Ali ‘Imran, 3:187)

To conceal knowledge is not just a sin, it is a form of oppression. Because those seeking truth are denied it by someone who was given a trust but refused to share it.

7. Knowledge as the Food of the Heart

Fathul Musolli once said something unforgettable:

“Just as the body dies without food, so too does the heart die without knowledge and wisdom.”

We often nourish our bodies without fail—three meals a day, vitamins, exercise. But how often do we check the condition of our hearts? What do we feed it? What sustains it?

Imam Al-Ghazali reminds us that a heart left without wisdom becomes diseased. And like a person in a faint, he might not even realize he's dying until it's too late. “Men are asleep,” he quotes, “and they awaken at death.”

8. The Seeker’s Jihad

There’s a quote that hits deeply in today’s world of hustle culture and productivity:

“To go at dawn in search of knowledge is jihad.”

Learning, in this sacred tradition, is not passive. It is an active struggle, a spiritual battle against laziness, arrogance, ignorance, and the nafs (ego). Every moment spent reading, questioning, thinking, writing, teaching—these are acts of devotion. They are weighty on the scales of the Hereafter.

Even just listening to a scholar, the Prophet said, is better than praying a thousand rak’ats, or attending a thousand funerals. Not because prayer or compassion is any less, but because without understanding, what is the purpose of even those acts?

9. The Scholar’s Legacy Lives On

Imam Al-Ghazali concludes with one of the most powerful truths of all:

“When a man dies, all his actions stop except three: ongoing charity, beneficial knowledge, and righteous children who pray for him.”

This is the scholar’s gift—beneficial knowledge—the kind that outlives him. The kind that continues to teach, continues to guide, continues to transform, even after he has returned to dust.

It’s this kind of legacy we should aspire toward. Not merely a degree. Not a social media following. But a life that plants seeds in others—seeds that blossom long after we’re gone.

So, Which Soil Are You?

In one beautiful parable, the Prophet described guidance and knowledge as rain. Some land absorbs it and grows. Some collects it and stores it for others. Some lets it run off and remains barren.

Which one are we?

Imam Al-Ghazali doesn’t just want us to admire scholars. He’s inviting us to become seekers, lovers of knowledge, and protectors of wisdom. Not all of us will be jurists or theologians—but all of us are capable of learning something for the sake of God, and sharing it for the sake of others.

(Author’s note: If there’s a mistake from my end, whether wrong Hadith / verses / others, do kindly let me know. JazakAllahu Khairan)