Life as a traveler

Dedicated to all my friends who stood by side in the last three years. 
(Written on May 26th, 2011)

On the authority of Abdullah ibn Umar (May Allah be pleased with them both), he relates that the Prophet (Peace be upon him) once held my shoulders and said:

“Live in this world as (if you are) a wayfarer or a stranger.” And Abdullah ibn Umar (May Allah be pleased with them both) used to say: “If you live till night, then do not wait for the next day (i.e. do not have hopes that you will live to the next day), and if you wake up in the morning do not have hope that you will live till the night. And take (advantage) from your health before your sickness and take advantage of your life before your death (i.e. do every possible obedience in your life before death comes to you for then no deeds can be performed.)” [Bukhari and Tirmidhi]

As Muslims, we hear this hadith many times in our lives but the true wisdom of it may not be understood by us except by those who are the friends of Allah swt and devote their whole lives in the path of Islam or by a traveler. Does being a traveler entitle one to have no attachments to the temporary? Maybe? Unfortunately even though I am a traveler, I tend to do the otherwise and attach myself to certain people when I move about in the world. As soon as I realize that they are really important in my lives, it is time to leave that city/state/country and then I have to start all over again. To a third person the idea may seem as an exciting one but truthfully speaking it is one of the most difficult things I have to do in my life - over and over again.

When I left Karachi on 28th August, 2008, my friends were my everything and I thought each one of us would be friends forever. Three years down the line only the true ones remained whereas the others moved on. Some got closer, some distanced out. Sometimes I wonder whether it was even worth spending my time and energy on some but probably that's what the situation required from me at that time? After two years at Mount Holyoke, then came a summer in Boston. Got reunited with a friend from Pakistan and made new friends. I do not regret getting close to my old and new friends in Boston but saying goodbyes at the end of the summer took an immense emotional toll. It was the second time I shed tears upon departing a city, the first being Karachi of course. I knew I would always be able to come back but the fear of moving away from those who strengthened me everyday made me despondent.

First semester of junior year at college: I never imagined myself getting close to some people but yet I did. Others wondered that how could we get along so well despite our differences but I suppose friendship does not see gender, beliefs or religion. It only connects our hearts and indeed my heart got attached to my friends. Promises were made of staying in touch but upon coming to Glasgow, those promises lost the battle to the academic/work commitments. I understood and moved on assuming that I would be friendless in Glasgow as I was the odd one out in the study abroad batch: the only Muslim, a nondrinker, a non-partier who couldn't afford to travel much outside of Glasgow.

I was wrong. My heart gave in yet again and fresh faces entered my life. I used to scoff at the idea of having your closest friends from those who seek the path of Islam (literally submission to God) and it was the first time in life I understood their true significance. They gave me the strength I hadn't received in a long time. They understood my internal and external struggles and gave solutions that were relevant and helpful. However, it was time to move on again and I was left doubting the promises made even though I have faith that they will not be broken inshaAllah.

Left Glasgow and arrived in Boston. It wasn't until I left Boston again that the nostalgia of the past and the anxiety of the future ten weeks hit me. I am expecting another adventure in Baltimore, Maryland inshaAllah. A new city and a new state. New place, new people. I hope to see some old friends in Maryland too but don't really know what to anticipate. A part of me wants to remain impartial and not depend on new friends but a part of me wants to explore more and be open to new experiences. I wish I could balance the two so that every time I leave a city, it doesn't hurt that much but I suppose this is what life is for me now. The life of a foolish traveler who tries to make an abode for herself inevitably everywhere she goes.

However, time has made me learn an important lesson: people leave me and I leave people but there is One who NEVER leaves my side. Whichever place in the world, whatever the circumstances, Allah is only One who is always by my side and understands every feeling of mine. He never abandons me and is beneficent on me even in times when I have turned away from Him. How grateful may can I be to Him for giving me such amazing friends and family in my life! Alhamdolillah (all praise to Allah)!

In return I pray to Him to grant me the ability to actually live in this world like a real traveler and do whatever good I can do in this short life of mine to make Him happy and fulfill my responsibilities towards His creation so that when my ultimate departure time i.e. death comes, I am not at all nostalgic about this life. Ameen.

Displaced on Jum'uah in Glasgow

After my Photography class at the Glasgow School of Art, I went to hunt down the masjid I had looked up on Google maps. It was closest to the City Center. Got lost a couple of times when I got on the wrong streets and finally when pedestrians were not helpful either, I decided to study the map and find my way around. I knew I was late for jum'uah but still wanted to go ahead because I wanted to benefit from the barakah (blessing) of a masjid. As I moved closer, I saw brothers trickling from a street and knew that I was in the right direction. I was already catching unwanted attention looks because a Muslim woman on a bike did not quite go together. Hence, to avoid more attention, I got off it and walked in the direction of the masjid.

As I stood across from the main entrance, there flood of Muslim men outpoured the masjid but to my astonishment, not a single woman was in sight. I was confused. I went up and asked a middle-aged "uncle" whether there was a place for women in there. He told me there wasn't but he would still go inside to make sure.

I began, "Oh leave it! I don't want to go inside amidst so many brothers anyways..." and before I could finish my sentence, he disappeared in the crowd. I uneasily waited there, wanting to run away since I was the only woman (an odd and misplaced piece of a puzzle not to mention a hijabi with a bicycle) among more than a couple of hundred men.

He returned after a while and apologized that there was no space for me to pray inside. He handed me me a small pieces of paper which said Muslim House 16. He told me it was really close and despite my refusal, convinced me to walk with him to the Muslim House. Apparently it was a musalla at someone's home but when no one answered, he told me about an Islamic school where they had a place for the sisters. I obviously looked very annoyed!

He stopped in his footsteps and turned towards me, and said, "You know a lot of jurists believe that women don't need to have a space for jum'uah?"
"In America almost all masajid have a place for women...."
He looked me in the eye and asked, "Where are you from?"
"Pakistan. But I live in the US."
"Well. A lot of Pakistanis believe that women don't need to be in the masjid for jum'uah."
"I agree that it's not obligatory for women to pray in the masjid but at least they should have the option to pray (especially in the West)."

I was dejected but we both couldn't make ourselves continue the conversation anymore. He was determined to walk me to the Islamic school and while we J-walked the streets like we would have if I was still in Pakistan, I realized I had to stay with him if I wanted to pray dhuhr on time. I followed him along with my bike and we finally arrived to a building that had posters of women plastered at its main entrance. SubhanAllah! It looked more like a beauty parlor from Pakistan and NOT an Islamic school. He walked me through a narrow door that led to a flight of stairs. I locked my bike to one of the railings at the bottom of the staircase and followed him along upstairs.

As soon as I entered the musalla, and the jama'a (congregational prayer) literally ended at that very moment. The sisters and brothers soon vacated the area and while I prayed dhuhr, I could hear the faint humming of a brother's recitation from the men's side.

While I stood up to offer my two sunnahs, a brother walked in and inquired if I was done. I told him I wasn't but would leave if he had to close the place. He shook his head and instead told me that someone outside wanted to see me. I walked outside the prayer space with my arms folded on my chest (my belt strapped top was not really appropriate for a masjid setting) and saw the uncle who had walked me to the school. He handed me a small piece of paper with the address of the school and told me that I was free to come there and pray jum'uah whenever I wanted to. I nodded my head in acknowledgement and as I turned to go back and finish my prayer, I asked him for a copy of the Qur'an. He rushed inside a room and brought me back a copy. He flipped through the pages and asked me if it was one I was comfortable and and without even bothering to look inside, I thanked him and went back to my recluse of prayer.

Once I was finished, I had an unexpected emotional outburst. After I finished reciting Surah Al-Kahf,  I immensely began missing Imam Basyouni's recitation and beat myself for not taking out to hear him over Christmas while I was back in Boston. I recalled the night of  27th of Ramadan when thousands of Muslims sobbed with him while he made the Dua Khatm-al-Quran (prayer upon finishing the Quran) even though 80% of us at the masjid probably not even understand a word. However, ALL OF US, literally ALL OF US sobbed together in unison while Imam Basyouni prayed.

After collecting myself, I packed my stuff and on my way out handed the Quran back to the brother who had first fetched me from the prayer area. He smiled and told me that I should come back again. I told him I appreciated that and while I was about to walk out of the exit, I started fumbling through the leaflets and brochures lying at one of the side tables. Most of them were not interesting but one poster of on the wall particularly caught my my attention. 

It was an excerpt of Shaykh Hamza Yusuf's words about his story of becoming Muslim. To my surprise, I realized that I had actually never dug his journey into Islam. It was inspiration to finally find out that he had first discovered a a lone copy of Quran lying at the bottom of the shelf in a local bookstore. He picked it up thinking that Islam was one religion he knew nothing about and after reading Surah Maryam he entered Islam within a week! His narration of his trip to a Moroccan desert and the woman's dream of seeing a white man with a black turban the night before she met him brought tears to my eyes and I walked out of the masjid in pure awe how God guides people in the most unexpected ways. As I biked back, I had the opportunity to gather my thoughts which I can finally share in the above mentioned context.

I understand that it's recommended for men to pray in the masajid and they have anobligation to pray in them on jum'uah and women don't, but the Muslim community cannot keep its eyes shut from the fact that there are Muslim women who are studying and working along with men. The same way as men have the obligation to establish their five daily prayers, we have the same obligation too. Yes, according to some I am even "sinful" by stepping out of our confinements of my home (I am probably the worst example by being in a foreign country without a mahram) but this is our reality NOW. When Muslim men are OK with studying alongside women in educational institutes or working with them in shared workspaces, then why are they not OK with praying with us at the masajid? They don't have to share the floor with us; a separate space would still be something!

Hailing from Pakistan, a Muslim country, I recognize how tough a job it is for women to make their salah on time if they are outdoors. Men can always walk in a masjid and pray while we women are left at the mercy of random placed like shop basements and pavements with that constant fear of being harassed lurking at them. I appreciate the interpretations of the Hanafi madhab follow some of its fiqh regulations personally, but some ijtihad and ijmaa are desperately needed in our communities ESPECIALLY in the West where our only support system and solid foundations are the Houses of God.

We, the Muslim women, need a share of the Islamic community and the suhba (company) of the righteous too. Maybe you won't understand brothers, but it's actually harder being a Muslim woman in the West than you can probably imagine.

IslamiCity.com - Religion and Science

Found this article interesting and finally realize that I need to stop justifying the Quran under the scientific light as well. Faith, especially the belief in the unseen goes beyond reason and that's the true beauty of it.

IslamiCity.com - Religion and Science

With a little interest I viewed a video of a somewhat celebrated atheist discussing his visit to a Muslim school in the UK. During his trip, he claims to have noticed students quoting verses from the Qur'an which, he says, were scientifically inaccurate. The verses which spoke of two bodies of water that don't mix were clearly misunderstood, and thus misinterpreted. Therefore they were obviously 'scientifically incorrect' to the atheist since he didn't understand them properly in the first place.

Be that as the case may be, it is important to understand that the Muslim does not use science to qualify the Qur'an. Rather it is the Qur'an that is held as the gold standard and is used to qualify the world around him: astronomy, biology, chemistry, even finance and economics.Using science to qualify scripture is by origin a European-American practice where, as the New World was discovered, great effort was made to separate religion from state. Emigrants from the Old World had seen it all: women being burnt alive accused of witchcraft and blasphemy, the Church imposing their Earth-centric view of the universe on everyone, and the persecution of people like Galileo for daring to prove a different solar system. It was no secret that science and Christianity were at odds. But that was Europe.

In the Muslim world there was no conflict between science and religion. Neither the books of Islam nor the teachings of its scholars contradicted invention and technology. As more and more discoveries in science came to light, Qur'anic evidence seemed to support and strengthen them. The Muslim experience with science was one of perfect harmony, and diametrically opposed to that of Christendom's. This congruence, which unlike Europe could find no divide between science and religion, is one reason why there are substantially fewer atheists among educated intellectuals in the Muslim world than there are in Christian nations.

Yusuf Khan resides in the Washington DC area and writes for the Examiner. He speaks frequently at various Islamic centers.

Sunday School Day 4: Why I think being a mother is a full-time job

I recall a conversation I had with a friend over the summer. At the lab there is a technician who repeats the same experiments over and over again, every single day of her life - well, every single day she works. My friend and I were convinced that her job was a career which was not meant for us because we would literally kill ourselves due to the same repetitive nature of the work and its associated monotony. When he joked that if I fail at my career I could be that future technician, I told him that "I'd rather be a housewife than her."

Like other Western men, he believes that women who are stay-at-home moms make a waste of their lives. I chose to disagree with him because I personally feel that it's a huge responsibility to raise kids who are not only intellectually stimulated but are also socially responsible. What I chose to not explain to him was that how for us Muslims we also have the responsibility of raising our kids to be good Muslims and to be successful in the hereafter in addition to being successful in this world. But to speak the truth, I can't even think on those lines right now because I personally feel that being a mother is so taxing. I literally salute all our moms after coming back from Sunday school today.

It was the same regular draining day with a little tweak: lunch did not arrive on time. All the kids started shouting and being uneasy because they wanted food. It was so hard to control them. Not to mention my previous efforts of trying to make my little kids memorize Surah Fatiha. While they waited for food, I lost control of myself during a couple of moments especially when I had to shout at John when he threw an empty juice box across the circle of kids. I regret that because this is the type of attention kids seek, and I sort of gave in. I now realize why my mom shouts at my youngest siblings. Parenting is such a tough job. I wonder if I could be a working mother or not? Or maybe I would need to get out in order to get a dose of sanity. But I lean on the opinion that being a mother is indeed a full-time job. I guess time shall tell me insha'Allah.

I need to study for my psychology exam . Now.

Sunday School Day 2

I have always found little kids very adorable but most of the times I would admire them at a distance. A smile, an eye-contact, but usually I am not physical and don't want to grab them like some of my other friends would. I like to observe them in their own little worlds. However, I put myself at a different position when I volunteered to teach them at the Sunday school at the local mosque in the college area.

I slept after 5:00am in the morning. Waking up in the morning at 9:00 was a pain. Shaytan failed in convincing me that I should not go.  My last week was not very good. It was exhausting to teach 4-5 years olds who don't have a very long concentration span and since the Sunday school is not very organized at the mosque, it was even harder to follow a set track. A bunch of undergraduate and graduate students in the Amherst area volunteer to teach Muslim kids some basic Islamic knowledge which includes memorizing small surahs or chapters from the Qur'an, Arabic and Islamic Studies in which we teach them brief stories about the Prophet Muhammad's p.b.u.h. life. I have not experience such a thing back in my home country and certainly it has been a new learning experience for me too, mashaAllah. Last week when I returned back, I was drained and had made my mind to tell the other sisters that I can't handle the youngest group of kids because they are a huge responsibility and because I am not a mother or have not catered to young kids' except my brother's demands in a long time (my youngest brother was 8 when I left for college and have seen him only once last summer). I am glad that I did not notify the other sisters of my decision because today, alhamdolillah, it was very different.

I have four kids in my group - today only three from last week turned up. All of them are the youngest amongst the 28-30 kids at the Sunday school. Today a new girl joined our group. Her name is Maria and her mom seemed to be a new convert because she wanted to stay back and learn as well. I had a lot of trouble (and embarrassment in front of Maria's mom) when I was teaching the kids Quran because of two reasons. Ahmad, mashaAllah a cutie aged 5, knew too much and was getting bored because other kids were behind; and Malak, a girl who's probably 5 as well would not utter a single word. I felt very annoyed that I couldn't make her feel very comfortable and when I asked Haris, 4, to talk to her and ask her to speak, he responded:
"She's kind of shy which is why she does not say much."

I confess, I slaved through the Quran session until it was time for Arabic and I was glad to see a sister who had just arrived, intervene. I stood up and observed her and to my shock, Malak was speaking to the other sister so fluently and was laughing with her. When the sister asked her to recite Surah Fatiha (she had denied several times when I asked her saying that she didn't know it), she surprised everyone by reciting it in a single go! Children: I guess they are such a mystery.

We had a snack break when the kids ate Oreos and crackers and drank juice. Getting them back to their small groups for Islamic studies was another hassle. Maria left but the rest of my kids were obedient enough and alhamdolillah, Malak, was making small conversation with me now. I told her, "Wow! You are talking to me now," upon which she smiled and shied away.

I chose a book called "A to Z of Akhlaq." Akhlaq stands for manners in Arabic. It was fun but difficult trying to keep the kids engaged. Apparently Haris knew the pictures too well. He would point out at them and tell the story to the other kids while Ahmad lay down on the carpet and respond whenever prompted. Haris and Ahmad were done with the book but Malak wanted to stick with it. It was a cute book with A is for Akhlaq, B is for backbiting, C is for cleanliness etc. etc. When I saw they were getting too restless, we all stood up and jumped until we were exhausted. I know it's a bit odd for a woman to be jumping in the mosque, but well, there's no way around handling kids but physical stimulation. I think we continued until M or N until the imam announced that all kids should make wudu or ablution for the prayer. I wanted to leave but when I heard the adhaan or the call to prayer, according to what I believe - once the adhaan is called, one should pray and then leave the mosque - I decided to stay back and pray. I also helped tidying up the mosque and was amazed at the kids' self discipline who formed lines outside the restroom in order to make wudu. When the prayer time commenced, for first time in my life I prayed in a row consisting of more kids than adults. In the end when I was still sitting after my prayers, Haris came and hugged me and said salam to me because he was leaving. I told him that "K is for keeping promises" and that he should keep his promise that he will bring his notebook next Sunday - he didn't bring it this week. He promised me and ran off.

When the mosque got quiet as the kids left, I realized that alhamdolillah I made the right decision to go today. I had to wait for an hour for the next bus and when I came back to my college I couldn't resist to go for a swim and relax because I was so drained. Swimming was good. The day was good but unfortunately I have not done an atom of work today. It's 10pm almost. Thirteen hours since I have been awake. My work night will begin now after isha prayers insha'Allah and may I be a bit productive. Ameen.

I at least wasted an hour watching my friend's autistic nephew's videos. He is so cute masha'Allah and his mom is one of the strongest women I know. His recent video was him singing Roses are Red. Never heard that song before until now and I guess it really goes well with my experience at the Sunday school:
Khaled singing