I grew up in the Bible Belt of America, smack-dab in the heart of conservative Christian ideals and values. A church was at every corner, signs often reminded me that ‘Jesus was my Savior’, and I knew the hows and whys of all the major Christian holidays. But Islam always stayed with me.
I recall from an early age watching mama fold her colorful rectangle silk scarf into a triangle, and marveling at her speed and ability to tie it back. Abu would have my sister and I read the Arabic alphabet and practice our handwriting daily. On the weekends, he’d have us read the stories of the Prophets, and then write a report on them. Not a day went by when we all didn’t sit together to watch ‘Adam’s World’, my favorite puppet. My sister and I would trail behind our parents at ICNA, ISNA, or CAIR conferences, and buy two piece hijabs that I could never get on properly, always envying my sister who wore it with grace, while I grumbled as to how it made my face look chubby.
As time passed, we came to realize the importance of the scarf and the essential tenets of our faith. Some evenings I’d snuggle beside my parents and listen to Ahmed Deedat with rapt attention, who never failed to astound me with his depth of knowledge regarding Islam. We did the Sunday School route, attended the occasional halaqa at our local mosque, bought from the halal meat store, and lived the typical American Muslim life. I interacted with many Muslims in school and out of it, went to Islamic competitions, and more or less felt that I was following Islam as it had been observed centuries earlier.
And then I went to medical school.
I was never very patient, especially when it came to school. I would have rather tested out of all of my exams and finished school by age 10 than trudge through 12 years of torture. Naturally, I couldn’t bear the thought of enduring 4 years of undergraduate studies before finally entering medical college. So I sought to go abroad, where I could skip the formalities of undergraduate school, and settled on Bangladesh.
I’d already heard that there were quite a few foreigners in Bangladesh attending medical college, and upon the insistence of some family friends, I applied to Mymensingh Medical College, and was accepted. The foreigner’s block at its girl’s hostel consisted mainly of Kashmiris, none of whom I knew, but in whom I quickly noticed gaping discrepancies in the way our faith was practiced. I came to learn of two taalims that occurred after Maghrib salaat in the rooms of some senior Kashmiri girls. Curiosity got the better of me one day, and I decided to sit in on a class. What I heard shocked me. At the time, I had no idea which book they were reading from, but only that it was a collection of Hadiths. I remember a few of the stories I heard that night: a brother was at his sister’s funeral and helped fill her grave. Upon returning home, he noticed that his money purse was missing, and thought perhaps it had fallen into his sister’s grave. He returns to where she is buried and digs her up, only to see that she is on fire. Terrified, he runs home and tells his mother, who replies that he saw what he saw because his sister didn’t offer her prayers in a timely manner.
Next was the story of some great scholar who had not had to do wu’du for some 40 years as he slept only 15-20 minutes per day, and this would not break his ablution. The story, however, did not explain why this man was free from normal bodily functions. Regardless, one day, the Angel of Death came to him, and told him that his time had come, to which the man told the Angel to wait until he’d completed his Maghrib prayer, and then to take him.
How anyone could listen to these stories and not wonder as to their veracity is beyond me. Man does not know of the horrors that lie after death, and man certainly has no power to question God as to his time of death, let alone postpone it! These are all clearly stated in the Qur’an, but many, not only in this hostel, but also in our ummah, read nothing but the original Arabic, not bothering to understand what they are reciting, but rather blindly going through their prayers without any sense of what they’re saying. Such things are best left for the scholars and imams, am I not right? For God only gave them the capacities to make clear His message.
Needless to say, I stopped attending these taalims, and mentioned to some that perhaps it be best to instead read from the Qur’an and jointly discuss and learn from it, for one could never be sure of the authenticity of all the Hadiths, but the Qur’an is protected by God. The response was lukewarm, and no one warmed further to the idea. They found me blasphemic, a heretic, an American who’d grown without knowing her deen. I tried my best to appeal to the logic of some, referencing Qur’anic verses that shot down the words in what I learned to be Bahisti Zehwar. Not a soul took heed. One day I made mention of the People of the Cave to one of the girls who ran a taalim, and she told me she’d never heard of them. I’d quote Qur’anic verses, and draw blank stares, and on occasion would quote the Bible, and have someone state it to be a Qur’anic excerpt. I could not for the life of me understand how Muslims from a Muslim country knew so little about Islam, and so easily partook in bi’dah and shirk.
Shab-e-Baraat is undertaken as an Islamic holiday, taveezes are commonplace, and boyfriends are a-okay. None of these things were considered unIslamic, but things such as girls wearing pants, listening to music, and watching movies were considered borderline haraam. Here are a few other ‘fatwas’ I’ve heard:
· Girls must cover their head in front of non-Muslims (including all non-Sunnis)
· One must cover their head while in the toilet
· Talking in the bathroom is forbidden
· One must cover head while eating/drinking anything
· Drinking milk breaks one’s wu’du
· Photos in rooms make prayers invalid
· Touching/talking to male patients is forbidden
· For women to work is forbidden
· Listening to music breaks one’s wu’du
· One must cover head upon hearing adhan
Naturally, I broke all of these so-called ‘rules’ and followed my faith on the basis of sound proof, not merely hearsay or something that my parents would do. I took what the Qur’an said to heart, and searched for my deen, and came to love it even more. I can only pray that someday my ummah will heed only the words of the Qur’an and on positively authenticated Hadiths, and not simply make innovations in such a pure religion. For how will we answer God on that Day when He inquires of us why we failed to strive in righteousness when He had provided all the answers before us? Do we not all wish and pray that our faces shall shine that Day? So what are we doing to ensure it?
I recall from an early age watching mama fold her colorful rectangle silk scarf into a triangle, and marveling at her speed and ability to tie it back. Abu would have my sister and I read the Arabic alphabet and practice our handwriting daily. On the weekends, he’d have us read the stories of the Prophets, and then write a report on them. Not a day went by when we all didn’t sit together to watch ‘Adam’s World’, my favorite puppet. My sister and I would trail behind our parents at ICNA, ISNA, or CAIR conferences, and buy two piece hijabs that I could never get on properly, always envying my sister who wore it with grace, while I grumbled as to how it made my face look chubby.
As time passed, we came to realize the importance of the scarf and the essential tenets of our faith. Some evenings I’d snuggle beside my parents and listen to Ahmed Deedat with rapt attention, who never failed to astound me with his depth of knowledge regarding Islam. We did the Sunday School route, attended the occasional halaqa at our local mosque, bought from the halal meat store, and lived the typical American Muslim life. I interacted with many Muslims in school and out of it, went to Islamic competitions, and more or less felt that I was following Islam as it had been observed centuries earlier.
And then I went to medical school.
I was never very patient, especially when it came to school. I would have rather tested out of all of my exams and finished school by age 10 than trudge through 12 years of torture. Naturally, I couldn’t bear the thought of enduring 4 years of undergraduate studies before finally entering medical college. So I sought to go abroad, where I could skip the formalities of undergraduate school, and settled on Bangladesh.
I’d already heard that there were quite a few foreigners in Bangladesh attending medical college, and upon the insistence of some family friends, I applied to Mymensingh Medical College, and was accepted. The foreigner’s block at its girl’s hostel consisted mainly of Kashmiris, none of whom I knew, but in whom I quickly noticed gaping discrepancies in the way our faith was practiced. I came to learn of two taalims that occurred after Maghrib salaat in the rooms of some senior Kashmiri girls. Curiosity got the better of me one day, and I decided to sit in on a class. What I heard shocked me. At the time, I had no idea which book they were reading from, but only that it was a collection of Hadiths. I remember a few of the stories I heard that night: a brother was at his sister’s funeral and helped fill her grave. Upon returning home, he noticed that his money purse was missing, and thought perhaps it had fallen into his sister’s grave. He returns to where she is buried and digs her up, only to see that she is on fire. Terrified, he runs home and tells his mother, who replies that he saw what he saw because his sister didn’t offer her prayers in a timely manner.
Next was the story of some great scholar who had not had to do wu’du for some 40 years as he slept only 15-20 minutes per day, and this would not break his ablution. The story, however, did not explain why this man was free from normal bodily functions. Regardless, one day, the Angel of Death came to him, and told him that his time had come, to which the man told the Angel to wait until he’d completed his Maghrib prayer, and then to take him.
How anyone could listen to these stories and not wonder as to their veracity is beyond me. Man does not know of the horrors that lie after death, and man certainly has no power to question God as to his time of death, let alone postpone it! These are all clearly stated in the Qur’an, but many, not only in this hostel, but also in our ummah, read nothing but the original Arabic, not bothering to understand what they are reciting, but rather blindly going through their prayers without any sense of what they’re saying. Such things are best left for the scholars and imams, am I not right? For God only gave them the capacities to make clear His message.
Needless to say, I stopped attending these taalims, and mentioned to some that perhaps it be best to instead read from the Qur’an and jointly discuss and learn from it, for one could never be sure of the authenticity of all the Hadiths, but the Qur’an is protected by God. The response was lukewarm, and no one warmed further to the idea. They found me blasphemic, a heretic, an American who’d grown without knowing her deen. I tried my best to appeal to the logic of some, referencing Qur’anic verses that shot down the words in what I learned to be Bahisti Zehwar. Not a soul took heed. One day I made mention of the People of the Cave to one of the girls who ran a taalim, and she told me she’d never heard of them. I’d quote Qur’anic verses, and draw blank stares, and on occasion would quote the Bible, and have someone state it to be a Qur’anic excerpt. I could not for the life of me understand how Muslims from a Muslim country knew so little about Islam, and so easily partook in bi’dah and shirk.
Shab-e-Baraat is undertaken as an Islamic holiday, taveezes are commonplace, and boyfriends are a-okay. None of these things were considered unIslamic, but things such as girls wearing pants, listening to music, and watching movies were considered borderline haraam. Here are a few other ‘fatwas’ I’ve heard:
· Girls must cover their head in front of non-Muslims (including all non-Sunnis)
· One must cover their head while in the toilet
· Talking in the bathroom is forbidden
· One must cover head while eating/drinking anything
· Drinking milk breaks one’s wu’du
· Photos in rooms make prayers invalid
· Touching/talking to male patients is forbidden
· For women to work is forbidden
· Listening to music breaks one’s wu’du
· One must cover head upon hearing adhan
Naturally, I broke all of these so-called ‘rules’ and followed my faith on the basis of sound proof, not merely hearsay or something that my parents would do. I took what the Qur’an said to heart, and searched for my deen, and came to love it even more. I can only pray that someday my ummah will heed only the words of the Qur’an and on positively authenticated Hadiths, and not simply make innovations in such a pure religion. For how will we answer God on that Day when He inquires of us why we failed to strive in righteousness when He had provided all the answers before us? Do we not all wish and pray that our faces shall shine that Day? So what are we doing to ensure it?