Visiting my Dad after sixteen years

Wednesday, July 6, 2016. I must have driven for 5 seconds before an officer pulled me over for not fully stopping at a stop sign. As she took my license and registration, it forced me to finally realize why this was no ordinary day and why the thought of a ticket was the last thing on my mind. Today marked the celebration of Eid al Fitr, but I was choosing not to celebrate it with anyone because there was something else I really wanted to do: today would mark the first time I was going to visit my dad’s grave ever since we buried him sixteen years ago. As the officer sat in her car, all I could think about was why it had taken me so long to do this. In part, I knew; some force drove me to forgo celebrating Eid and attend to something I felt long forgotten in my life.

I used to always pride myself in being authentic and pragmatic as I could be, so when asked by a younger cousin one day, “do you ever miss your dad?” I responded by saying, “you know what, not really”. She became a bit startled but I also think she misunderstood what I meant to say. For all my life I thought missing a person depended on the degree with which one got to know them. In my mind, it seemed simple – the more we got to learn about someone and the stronger our relationship grew with them, the more we would miss them. I was the youngest child and the only boy in a household of five sisters so lacking a male figure was significant. I met my dad at the of seven and lost him before I turned twelve. In the years that followed, I thought I would barely miss him. Yet that day in 2016, I felt more determined than ever to visit his grave. The man I barely got to know was now someone I could not get off my mind.

~~~
While the officer sat in her car, I tried not thinking about why she was doing so and simply focused all my attention towards the street and observed people walking, cars driving, and just about anything I could set my eyes on. I suppose I had built up a habit of narrowing my concentration on something my mind could observe – it helped me disassociate with any heightened feelings of stress and keep busy. The first time I vividly remember doing this was also the day dad was pronounced dead.

I had my back turned towards the bed, in which he now lay deceased, as I looked outside from the 18th floor of Mount Sinai Hospital. I could hear those in the room behind me frantically weeping, others softly shedding tears, and some just silently standing. I would turn around every now and then, observe the room, and then turn my back towards them to look outside again – focused only on what I could see. I chose not to look behind me but did not know why. At the time all I knew was that I just could not help but keep observing the cars moving outside – some large, some small, some black, some silver, some old, some new – they were all moving, sometimes pausing, but then moving again. At no point did I grow fatigued but soon it was time to go. My sister, Ayesha, asked me to come and say farewell to dad for the final time – I was neither keen nor eager to do so. Walking up to the bed, I took a long stare – dad’s eyes were shut, which at first felt strange since I had never tried to wake him up from sleep. I leaned my body in to hug him and as soon as I did, I immediately began to weep. This was the first time I had cried and, upon the room quieting down, it also seemed to be the loudest there. His body felt so cold and as if a soul now no longer existed – it just didn’t feel like dad anymore. My sister then took hold of me, with her arm around my head, and walked me outside the ICU into the corridor as I continued weeping. A family in the hallway saw me and were even kind enough to move towards the opposite ends of the hall allowing me to walk through. Ayesha brought me to the visitor’s area where she told me to sit, offered a few words of counsel and left soon after telling me she would be back.

“Back” – a word I had grown accustomed to hearing.

I had always been told dad was coming back too – for the first five years in Pakistan and for about two more years when we arrived in Canada. Since long-distance phone calls were a bit too expensive, my mom used to ask us to record our messages on a tape recorder so she could send it to dad. I didn't know where Canada was but I knew it was far away and that it required an airplane to reach. Even though I had never seen him for the first five years of my life, I knew dad would be coming back. When the tape recorder turned on, I felt it was my duty to speak about everything I wanted him to send. “It’s recording, it’s recording, say something”, my sister would ask, “umm, I want a plane. I want a flying plane”. ‘You always ask for that’ my sister added. I paused and then continued, “I want a car, but one that flies”.

I don’t know why I always asked for something that could fly – be it a plane or even a flying car. Perhaps somewhere inside my five year old mind I thought I could use these toys to get to him so I wouldn't have to hear the words “he’s coming back” anymore. As I sat in the visitor’s area of the hospital, still absorbing the hug I wished I could take back, I was sure of one thing – dad was not coming back. Not this time.

~~~
I told myself in the car it was going to be fine – after all, the officer would see I had no prior tickets. Telling yourself that things are going to be fine doesn’t usually mean they will be, but it does help create a sense of calm in the moment. I could see the officer walking towards me. She told me I would only be getting a warning ticket, letting me know that the residents of the area complained no one was observing this specific stop sign. I thanked her saying it was very kind of her at which she started laughing. It was a small pleasant moment and one I needed at the time.

There weren’t too many pleasant moments with dad but perhaps the happiest I ever saw him was when he finally arrived in Toronto to reunite with us. “He’s here, he’s here” my sister shouted. Before I could realize what was going on, dad was hugging her with a smile I had never seen from a man. He ended up embracing both of us in his arms at the airport and held us close the entire drive home. It felt strange to me that a man I had never seen was now holding me so close but I could see genuine happiness brimming from his face. My uncle and his wife both asked him to sit in the front but he insisted he wanted to be in the back with his two kids. This is perhaps the fondest memory I have of him, but not every day going forward was going to be as pleasant as this. It never occurred to dad that not being with your children for seven years would mean that he now needed to build stronger relationships with us. The downside of living without his family for so long would show. It got to a point where I would disclose to friends that I didn’t like my dad – he would yell, scream and often times hit me. At the time I felt I was better off without him but then came an odd discovery. I found out almost all my friends, also immigrants, had very similar dads. We confided with each other, often in humour, in the different ways our dads would hit us even coming up with tactics like hiding under a duvet when a beating was coming so that it wouldn’t hurt as much. As time passed, the feelings of anger towards him went away. It was still hard for me to confide in him but, as dad spent more time with us, he began to display more of a calm demeanor and became easier to approach.

In the summer of 2000, my mom received terrible news from Pakistan – her older sister, Rafiya, passed away. My dad purchased her a plane ticket so she could fly back home but only about a month later his health started to worsen. While mom was in Pakistan, we found out that dad had cancer and the doctors moved fast to build medical options for him in the next months. At the time I didn’t know anything about dad’s illness or how it was important not to annoy mom since she was also grieving her sister’s loss. When mom did arrive, there was no panic in the home. We all seemed to have a belief that everything was going to be fine. It turned out that this would not be the case, but throughout the entire duration of dad’s illness the environment at home never felt chaotic. In fact, everything was relatively calm up until the day he died. That day was in late August of 2000. My uncle arrived at the door, trying to hold back tears whilst simultaneously brushing it off with a grin. He seemed in a hurry and my mother picked up on his strange behavior. She prompted him why he was in a rush at which point he broke down and revealed that dad had passed away.

Instantly I heard the screams of my sisters. My mom, a woman always composed, fell down on the floor telling everyone to get away from her. I went to hug her as she pushed me away only repeating "get away from me, get away". I did back away, the only person in the home not crying, and perhaps the only person also not realizing what just happened. All those weeks prior, which felt relatively calm, now seemed as if they didn’t exist. Was this the time to remind ourselves again that everything was going to be fine? I didn’t know. All I could do was observe my mom, my sisters, my uncles, my aunts and just about everyone else crying. And all I could do was just helplessly watch.

The officer was gone. I started the car again and headed out.

~~~
On the drive to the graveyard, I decided to make a stop at a Masjid and offer Dhuhr prayer. The area, primarily a Muslim one, was very empty – everyone was somewhere celebrating Eid. I entered the mosque alone and prayed alone. “Alone” – a theme I became fairly accustomed to, yet never comfortable with, from childhood. As the British psychiatrist D.W Winnicott said, two things can go wrong in childhood: when things happen when they shouldn’t and when things don’t happen when they should. Perhaps every child has this complaint but when you lose your dad and have no brothers or uncles to speak to – much less rely on – then a lot of things which should happen don’t end up happening at all.

A lot of things could have happened if dad stayed alive but it was his presence I needed the most. This manifested itself regularly in extended family dinners which were usually segregated with women and men sitting separately. This meant I needed to enter the men’s area by myself whilst my sisters entered with mom. Once inside, it didn’t get easier. I would see men much older than me who I couldn't interact with, so I would try to join the boys my age – but that had its own challenges. As a young child I had become an easy target for bullying. During one dinner, when I joined the boys and eventually became the subject of jokes, all I did was stay. I couldn’t go to my mom and sisters since they were in the women’s section and I didn’t know who to speak to among the male adults. Perhaps my dad wouldn’t have helped. Maybe he would've been the kind of dad to ignore me but, now that I think about it, at least I could have gone to sit beside him. At least his presence would have been an option and probably a better one than those kids. When they grew bored of making fun of me, they walked out, leaving me alone in the room. This was someone else’s home so it felt strange being alone there. All I could do was follow them to the balcony even though that meant I would have to hear more of the same. Eventually they would feel bad, sometimes say sorry and turn to other things. If anything, they provided me a place where I didn’t have to be alone, something I would do anything to avoid.

Sitting in the Masjid alone, and troubled by memories like these from my past, I had to remind myself that no one was bullying me anymore and I certainly didn’t need to stay in any environment like that as a grown adult. I stood up after prayer. It was getting late and I needed to head to the cemetery soon.

~~~
I finally arrived at dad’s grave but was unable to find which one belonged to him since we chose not to get a tombstone. It reminded me of how easily we forget those who die. The sun was scorching down without a cloud in the sky as I tried searching some of the unmarked graves using the unit number given by the memorial. I didn’t mind the search since I could not think of what to say when I found him. I would sit down and get up continuously until I finally made my way back to some shade so I could figure out what to say.

For as long as I can remember, I never sat down thinking about how I needed dad. In a way this was good. I didn’t allow myself to feel limited in anything I did but it also made me overlook how limitations in life can exist.

The night of his death, we sat at a Masjid. Funeral preparations were happening and I was sitting in the men’s section unable to be with my sisters. Other than to give condolences, none of the male adults came to speak with me. At one point, I realized I had been sitting by myself for what seemed like hours. I would come to regularly expect this as the years passed and little did anyone realize how different an experience it would be for me compared to them. As the years passed, and I arrived in my mid-teens, I grew exceedingly tired of the expectations everyone was placing upon me. I was desperately in search of understanding, validation or just a conversation with a compassionate figure. Perhaps it was not just the absence of dad but also an absence of space for a lost, confused Muslim kid.

What I also didn’t understand at the time was that my sisters and mother were also spending the time recuperating without dad. Back home, the most common insult my mother would hear, a woman with five girls and her husband abroad, was: "Where is this husband of yours? Who is going to speak for you? You have five daughters. What are they going to do?". Sometimes my mom was also referred to as ‘the lady with five girls’. It was as if when Allah hated someone, He would provide them girls.

Today, if I simplistically look at it, I could blame dad’s absence. His presence would have saved my sisters and mother from everything they had to tolerate in Pakistan. His presence could have also saved me from the remarks those kids would make at me during dinners. His presence could have saved us all from that.

I walked away from the shade towards his grave. I wasn’t mad at him or at Allah. I had long accepted all of this in my life; I realized there was nothing I really wanted to say to dad, I just wanted to be near his presence – if that even existed. I walked closer to where I thought his grave was, silently prayed and allowed myself to let out a few tears in relief.

~~~
I started to head out when I got a call from my sister. The entire family was at a restaurant having dinner and she asked me to join. They were all also wondering where I had been all day.

Part of me resented my past but over the years I began to understand my family’s experiences of losing dad too. Today I can attest to the depth of sincerity all my siblings have and the genuine love and concern they also share. Even though our schedules don’t permit us to spend much time together, realizing how much I actually missed dad without knowing him did help me appreciate the family I still have. I grieved dad’s loss not because of all the memories we built together, but the implications his absence would entail. His loss meant a loss of social connections, a loss of guidance, and most of all a loss of his presence. I knew all day that I could call any of my sisters and speak to them. Their presence still existed and that thought in itself was cathartic.

I started the car again and told her I was on my way. Arriving at the restaurant, I was greeted by my nieces and nephews who came running up to hug me saying, “mamo’s here, mamo’s here”. They have many aunts but only one mamo (an uncle from the mother’s side). “Where were you? How was your day” my sister asked. “I think I just want to eat” I replied jokingly. I had spent the entire day by himself and was eager to hear other voices now.

I could see my family around me, and others coming into and out of the restaurant but I wasn’t cautiously observing any of it like I had been earlier in the day – there was a sense of relief settling in me that evening. Perhaps, if I didn’t know already, that day reaffirmed to me that missing someone does not just come from how much time we spend with them or the memories we build. Missing someone can also come from the potential memories which could have been built; the potential stories which could have been shared; the potential love which could have been experienced. With the sounds of my nieces and nephews in the background, and the chatter from my sisters and mother, I needed to remind myself that those who are gone won’t be coming back and any potential experience lost is one which never took place.

Learning this was important, not because it helped me feel better but because it helped me understand the need to release dad. In time I would need to release the potential figure of what I wished dad could have been for me and what my life would have been like with him. I had to do this. He was gone a long time ago.

"Falling Into The Trap of Judging Others"

[I initially wrote this paper for a university magazine and decided to also share it here. It may sound a little bit more formal than my usual posts, which tend to be very personal, but as with anything I hope it benefits one of you]

We've all had those moments, browsing from one YouTube video after the other as the ten minute break becomes an hour or so. I must have been doing the same when I somehow stumbled upon a video with a cleric addressing a Q&A.

One questionnaire stepped forward and asked:

'Dear shaykh, may Allah reward you for your speech, I had just one question. I have become friends with a Muslim co-worker who is a very good person but unfortunately he does not observe his prayers. What should someone like myself do in this position?'

The response was quick: 'Advise him to pray. But if he doesn't oblige then stay away from him altogether and cut off any relationship you have with him too'.

Just like that.

I found it a little difficult to absorb at first especially since we, as Muslims, cannot force others to do something. But then again the five daily prayers are one of the most important pillars of our faith.

“Take care to do your prayers–praying in the best ways–and stand before God in devotion” [Surah al Baqarah (2):238]

I tried to brush it off and clicked onto another video to watch (convincing myself there was still time left in that "ten minute" break).

It’s now been a couple of years since I stumbled on that video and now I find myself asking how can we, as Muslims, balance this approach?

Is it reasonable to cut off all ties of communication with someone who isn’t fulfilling a religious duty or still stay close to them which could potentially negatively impact our own faith?

So let’s look at both.

One of the most obvious setbacks to cutting off ties with someone is that it automatically breaks off a source of guidance for that person. Suppose Maryam does not pray her prayers whilst her friend Aisha does; if Aisha decides to cut off all ties with Maryam, since she doesn’t pray, then there may be no one left for Maryam to reach out to. There will be no one left that will remind her in times of uncertainty to perform a good deed and no one she can turn to during times of distress who will remind her to remember her Creator. By cutting off all ties with Maryam, Aisha will have left her no source of guidance to reach out to.

Another drawback from this approach is that it can have a way of sprouting itself into something worse. Suppose Ahmed does not like how his family observes their religious duty or lack thereof. Ahmed could apply the same approach here by not speaking to his own family because, in his eyes, they are not observant as much he thinks they should be. It does not just stop with Salah or a co-worker, it can extend even further.

There is one guarantee from this approach and that is a sort of partition. It creates more and more division not just amongst people but even friends & family–all of which is very counterproductive since we, as human beings, are naturally social creatures.

Just recently, whilst browsing online nonetheless, I came across a quote from imam al Ghazali who was asked, "What is the ruling for the one who has left prayer?" He replied, "The ruling is for you to take them along with you to the mosque".

That is wisdom!

Not only did he correctly point out we should advise others towards acts of good deeds but he also mentioned we should take them–not leave them–to the mosque with us. Hence, he not only encouraged us spreading good deeds but he also preached unity.

“And hold fast, all of you together, to the Rope of Allah, and be not divided among yourselves…” [Al Imran (3):185]

As sr Asmaa Hussein, author of the book ‘A Temporary Gift’, and someone who lost her husband due partly to the hate speech and division being spread in Egypt, said it best herself: "Were so involved in putting people down and counting…[the] sins [of others] that we don't stop and think - how can I be a source of good and inspiration in this person's life?"

I asked her why that same quote of Imam Ghazali meant so much to her? She felt it was due to being a new mother. Since she was so cautious of taking care of the influences around her young daughter, she felt afraid of any external negative influences.

Recently Asmaa felt that instead of teaching her daughter to stay away from people or things she did not agree with, she wanted to teach her compassion.

Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) once said,

“May Allah have mercy upon the man who is easygoing when he sells, easygoing when he buys, and easygoing when he asks for payment” [Reported by al-Bukhaari (2076)]

Asmaa hopes that every time her daughter thinks about passing judgement on someone, she first stops and reflects on how that person’s actions will inform her of her own. So instead of insulting, she learns to be encouraging and instead of abandoning, she learns to become a shoulder to lean on.

Coming from someone who, at one time, wasn't consistent with his own prayers, we should always aim be a friend not a judge. We also need to understand this world isn't a place of judgment, that's reserved for the Hereafter. And nor are we judges–that duty only belongs to Allah. We are merely people. People who perform acts of good deeds and people who fall into mistakes–some more than others.

The Prophet (pbuh) once said,

"All of the children of Adam are sinners, and the best of those are the ones who repent" [Sunan ibn Majah (4251)]

As sr Asmaa said it best herself: "we have an obligation to help others but we also have an obligation to maintain ourselves and our faith."

"Legacy of the father I barely knew" (By M. Zafar)

You can't have much of a memory from someone you know for a very short time. Frankly I feel like I've known my grade 9 high school teacher better than I knew my dad. I first met him when I was six or seven years old. Before that he had come to Canada hoping to sponsor us and left when I was six months.

I remember I would record my voice in one of the old 1990s tape recorders and my mom would send the tapes to Canada for my dad to listen. Back then it was so expensive to call, my mom figured it would be better to use this approach especially since my dad could listen to the tapes recurrently if he chose. My dad never told us this, having to live up to his macho sense of being a male, but my mother later told me he would listen to those tapes at night before going to sleep and often cry since he missed us so much.

The truth is I never got close to him. I was 6 months when he left to Canada. I did reunite with him at age six but he left for good before my 12th birthday. So we spent roughly six years together most of which feels blurred to me now.

So what legacy did a man I barely had a chance to get to know leave with me? We probably had a couple of father-son moments which were unfortunately overshadowed by negative ones. My dad simply didn't grasp the idea that when you are not there with your son for the first six or seven years of his life, he will be a bit reluctant listening to each one of your “commands”. But hey, he was old school. Can’t really blame him for that.

Our most notable father-son moment came before he was returning to Pakistan for a short visit. He spoke to me about how I had to be the “man” of the house while he was gone. At 11 I didn’t quite grasp what it meant.

He wasn’t sick for long and perhaps that is why he could never leave with me words I would remember or lean back on. Last time I saw him alive he wasn’t able to speak and hugged me whilst in immense pain. I’m sure he would have loved to leave me with an impression or a legacy about how I’d remember him. And ironically he did. In the best way possible. I remember his interest in listening to Quran.

He never taught me to recite Quran, or memorize it, and to be honest I don't even remember him telling me to ever go read.

But he had one habit: anytime he drove he would always put on Quran recited by Qari Waheed Zafar (No relation by the way) with the Urdu translation. I began to enjoy it too as a kid and was ecstatic to find it online many years later–it not only provided me with a chance of listening to the Quran but also brought nostalgic memories with it.

So that’s what I remember about the guy who was diagnosed unexpectedly with cancer and didn’t last longer than 2-3 months after that.

My dad probably never thought playing Quran in the car would be the strongest link I would have to him when he died; he probably gave it no thought when he used to always play it in the car. But when I listen to that same Quran recitation now, I will always know who introduced me to it.



May Allah unite us all with our loved ones in Jannah.
---------------------------------------------------
http://goo.gl/Oz0znS [Quran by Qari Waheed Zafar]

Ramadan - Truly the best time of the year.

The best time of year is finally upon us. This is my favorite month of the year. I cannot say I speak for most people but it is truly the only time of the year I fully feel alive – as if my heart isn’t constrained or obstructed by anything.

Battling depression, acute anxiety, and roller coasters of overwhelming stress for much of my life, I have found this month to be a true escape for me. Honestly nothing comes close to it. It is the single best form of counseling and therapy for me.

"Just a dose of Ramadan doctor, that'll do."

The one time of the year I feel less of a traveler and more like someone arriving home. The closest this world has ever felt to paradise for me is this month. The shackles, the barriers, the partition between myself and my Creator doesn't exist as much this month as it does in others.

The month when an angry me naturally stays calmer, the month when my struggles with prayers turn into prayers with Khushoo, the month when loneliness fades away and I feel more fulfilled than ever and the month when the mountains of stress and depression feel as if a fly is on my shoulders.

It wasn't always like this though.

The worst Ramadan I probably ever had was in high school. I tried to count down the months so I could regularly start listening to music without feeling the guilt. I started making plans for Eid early on just so I could feel this month would finish sooner – so many people were praying and I just couldn’t emulate them. With Taraweeh, which I never attended until I turned 19 or so, I never felt like I was missing anything. Even the walk to Jumuah prayer was one I forced myself to go. You know what? I was miserable. It sucked.

I felt I could never match up to the better Muslims so what was the point in trying? And I felt I was going to go back to sinning after Ramadan so what was the point of all this “acting”?

But there is no such thing as Ramadan Muslims. There are only Muslims. Muslims who struggle a lot and Muslims who struggle less. And Ramadan is a time we all maximize our potential.

Don't let anyone make you feel like you're not a good enough Muslim, you let Allah worry about that. Be sincere to Him, open your heart to Him and make this a month of change for yourself.

Wishing you the best this month,
M.

"Sacrifice Behind Closed Doors" (by Mohammad Zafar)

I recently heard something undeniably true: "To acquire anything of value requires sacrifice". SubhanAllah how true! Many of the times we forget the sacrifices people constantly around us make - especially those behind closed doors. Though these people may not be famous or well known to others, they are perhaps the closest to Allah.

Many of you are probably well familiar with Malcolm X. One of the strongest, most charismatic and influential Muslim personalities in the 20th century. At one time he used to call all white people "devils". But his life drastically changed when he went for Hajj in Mecca seeing whites, blacks and people of all color worshiping and praying together. He accepted Orthodox Islam right away because of the experience.

But did you know he did not have any funds for his trip? In fact, since he departed from the Nation of Islam, he was broke. Well then how did he manage to pay for an overseas trip when he had no money with him? It was actually due to the help of his half-sister Ella.

Out of her own pocket, though she did not have too much money herself, Ella paid for every penny Malcolm X would use for the Hajj trip.

Think about that. Perhaps only a handful of people may know about her today. But if it was not for the trip she financed for her brother, he would not have been able to go for Hajj or even leave behind the legacy he did.

Just because most people will never hear about Ella or about the thousands of others working tirelessly for His pleasure, do you think Allah will forget?

"Allah does not allow to be lost the reward of those who do good".
[Surah Yusuf (12):90]

Ella, who would later accept Orthodox Islam along with Malcolm, was not rich herself. But she worked and gave everything she could to help her younger half-brother.

In his own words, Malcolm said:

"[Hajj] would require money that I didn't have.

I took a plan to Boston. I was turning again to my sister Ella. Though at times I'd made Ella angry at me, beneath it all, since I had first come to her as a teen-aged hick from Michigan, Ella had never once really wavered from my corner.

'Ella,' I said, 'I want to make the pilgrimage to Mecca.'
Ella said, 'How much do you need?'"


A picture of both Ella and Malcolm in 1941

"I Miss Allah" - by Mohammad Zafar

It happens certain days in certain moments. I can never tell why but spontaneously the feeling comes and I tell myself "I miss Allah". Whether I’m content in life, having a bad day or going through a miserable period, the feeling is there.

I have both missed remembering Him and also just Him. In this previous Ramadan I sat content with everything in my life yet also feeling empty–like everything was still not enough. I had been remembering Allah more in the month than I probably had in the previous six months combined. Why did I still miss Him? Was it due to the sins I worked so hard to attain? Maybe it was because I was not remembering Him the way I should? Or perhaps I was doing everything right but the feeling was natural?

Those days in childhood when it seemed like every child, in extended family dinners or school, teased and bullied me; those days when I came home from a miserable day at school wanting someone to speak to and found no one; those nights I spent awake feeling empty and lonely then finally crying myself to sleep–strangely enough those were the times I missed Allah less. A broken heart of mine found it easier to connect to Him. I wanted to sit beside Him–not even talk to Him but just hear what He was saying and doing. I just wanted His presence. I always felt I was born elsewhere and stripped away from my home–wherever that place was, I left my heart there a long time ago.

While browsing the net one day I came across an article with the title “I miss Allah”. So it's not just me, others feel it too! Amazingly enough it was written by a teacher I had in Islamic school nearly a decade earlier.

I thought how can she miss Allah? I used to look up to her as a good Muslim and even felt guilty when seeing her make Dua after Dhuhr prayers.

As I read what she wrote, I began to see what she really missed was remembering Allah. But she did not say "I miss making remembrance of Allah", she said, as I am saying: “I miss Allah”.

To me the word "miss" has always implied when two beings, with mutual love, were together in each other’s company and then departed away. The period eventually grew too long between them and a yearning became the result.

Remembering Allah only suffices a temporary relief; the everlasting relief still awaits. For a mother whose child moves away, be it even temporary, would hearing her child's voice on the phone fill her void? Would her child, too, be content only with the mother's voice?

It would provide relief, yes…but only enough to carry on. What they both would want is to sit with each other, to embrace one another, to hear each other’s voices up close and personal and never depart from each other again. What they would want is the reunion of their love for nothing else could suffice.

And that is how I have felt my whole life. I felt I was with Allah at one time and then snatched away (like a child away from his mother). Ever since then I have been on my path to find Him again.

O Allah, I really, really miss You. And lately even remembering You has not sufficed. I just miss You! My teacher too. The one reading this misses You.

But I'm we glad we do, because the reunion will be even that much better.

Eid, A Day of Sadness? (By: Mohammad Zafar)

Several years ago a friend was relating a story to me of someone he knew back home. The young man, my friend mentioned, wanted to go visit his family on Eid to celebrate with them but was in the middle of a Dawah trip. He kept asking if it was alright for him to visit his family when an elder eventually replied: "our Eid will only come when the Muslim Ummah will become united".

Several years ago I found that comment admirable; what a selfless man! He refused himself any of life's joys until he could do his part to unify the Muslim Ummah. That was several years ago. Today, I don't think much of it.

Being sad or depressed on Eid has become a very common occurrence. We feel we cannot and should not allow ourselves to celebrate occasions due to grievances around the world.

Recently I have heard people around me ask:

How can you afford to be happy with all that is happening to our Muslim brothers and sisters in Syria, in Egypt, in Gaza, in Burma, and so forth? How can we really be happy when they are in so much pain?

But if we ask these questions, then isn't it only fair we also ourselves:

Can I afford to be sad with the gifts Allah has given me? Can I afford to be sad for receiving guidance? Can I afford to even frown when I know I can speak to Allah anytime and anywhere? Can I really afford to be sad when He has given me so much?

Should we, as Muslims, be people who always laugh and enjoy what life has to offer? As delightful as it may sound, that would ignore the times for us to be serious. So are we a people who always need to be sad and worried for others insofar as forgetting ourselves? As selfless as it may sound, that also ignores the times one should rejoice.

We are human.

We laugh. We cry. We fall. We rise. We succeed. We fail. We hope. We despair. We live. And we die.

There are moments in our lives where we ought to shed tears. Isn't it in our best interest to cry in Ramadan for our sins? But then there are moments in our lives where we ought to rejoice, smile and laugh. Isn't it only fair we thank those who help us by smiling and putting on a cheerful face?

In fact there should be moments for both sadness and happiness. The danger is, and has always been, falling entirely to either side of the spectrum.

Perhaps that balance is what we need to find ourselves when we both speak and listen.

One of the most beautiful things I heard once in a lecture regarding the day of Eid was, "Today is a day you have to find an excuse to be happy. Just find an excuse".

If you feel you don't have money, then thank Allah for your legs and how He has still allowed you to walk for free.

If you're feeling alone, then thank Allah for His company.

If you have been sick, then thank Allah for choosing to wash away your sins by this illness when on the Day of Judgment people will be willing to give the earth full of gold for Allah's Mercy.

If you have a few friends, or no one friends, then thank Allah for being His friend.

If you feel people around you are celebrating Eid in a more comfortable manner than you, then stop and think about those who have less than you.

If you don't have a special someone in your life, then thank Allah for keeping you away from an abusive partner, one that would break your heart far more than loneliness could.

If your heart grieves for your fellow Muslims suffering around the world, then remind yourself that celebrating Eid doesn't make you forgetful but someone who is balanced.

And for the all things you wish for, keep asking Allah. Who would you ask anyways?

An Eid without disunity in the Muslim Ummah may perhaps never come. But Eid al fitr will come after every Ramadan. And Eid al Adha will come after every Hajj. Then it'll be up to us if we want to celebrate that day or not.

"As long as you tell me the truth" (By Mohammad Zafar)

Back in grade 8, when I received a suspension from school along with a bunch of classmates, I realized I would have to say something to my mother on why I would not be attending school the next two days.

Some of my classmates decided to act sick in order to avoid the backlash they would receive while I, having no idea how my mom would reply, decided to just tell her.

With all my family in the room I held my head down and told my mom I was suspended for the following two days. My sisters heard and began to ask, "wait what?". As for my mom she immediately, without any hesitation, said smiling, "That's okay...you told me the truth. I don't mind as long as you tell me the truth" - much to the chagrin of my sisters. I was rather surprised. It even felt weird. But I have actually began to see the benefit of her response many years later.

Even today I sometimes see friends pick up the phone from their parents and blatantly lie saying, "Oh we are just at a coffee house" when watching a movie for example. It is part and parcel, I feel, a habit grown in response to the reaction of parents. When I tell some of them, "hey, why don't you just tell your mom you wanted to watch a movie at the theaters?" the response usually is, "No bro, you don't understand. My mom is gonna freak out, give me a lecture, and not get off my case..." and then they say something eerie, "...you know what, it's just so much easier this way".

Sadly it is.

And sadly it is also a behavior that can continue when one gets married as lying to the spouse then becomes habitual (Doesn't lack of trust ruin marriages?) - friends, colleagues, children eventually just follow suit too.

What's important to keep in mind –especially at a young age– is that it may not necessarily be the benevolence of the children or their "natural" good nature, rather it may very well be the character of the parents which plays a larger part in this cycle of lying. If my mom would have reacted angrily, I am not sure if telling her the truth would come so easily.

Lying is, and will always be, a sin regardless of the excuses we make. However, wouldn't it be better if we made telling the truth come more easily than lying?

We can all learn to ask ourselves:

Do I react like this to my friends?
Do I react like this to my spouse?
Do I react like this to my parents?
Do I react like this to my children?

Perhaps we can all learn to be better listeners which would encourage people around us to approach us in honesty.

"The Muslim Community Can Really Learn From Itself" (by: Mohammad Zafar)

Also published on Virtual Mosque:

http://www.virtualmosque.com/ummah/community/does-it-take-a-tragedy/

A while back as I got into an argument with my older sister, we both stopped speaking to one another which deeply upset mom. I decided to seek counsel with a friend on the difficulty of going back, setting aside our differences and making things right. He then asked me something to which I could only answer with silence: "Do you want to wait for a tragedy to occur which forces you to go back and talk to your sister?"

I had no reply.

I mumbled no, but still knew it would be hard for me to go forward. And he didn't need to say more, I knew exactly what he meant. What if something happened to mom, would we both still be stubborn enough to ignore one another? What if something happened to my sister, would I even for a second not come rushing to help her? What if I or her passed away without one of us having a chance to apologize to the other? What sort of guilt would we feel then?

Some time later both my sister and I set aside our differences and made things right. She came to apologize to me in Ramadan while I, not being able to sleep at night knowing how hurt my mom was, eventually obliged. We had a great, perhaps the best, mediator between us.

Long after that cleared up I still remembered the words my friend told me which still leave me speechless till now. Was I really waiting, inevitably, for a tragedy to occur which would force my hand?

And while although this is a micro example of one Muslim family, I believe we can use the same approach towards a macro problem of the Muslim community. Do we have to wait until a tragedy occurs to put aside our differences?

Our community, at large, is just like the stubborn guy I was. There are far more important issues than the ones we spend hours and hours arguing over to no avail. And while some of us may recognize our arguments can, at times, be trivial, it doesn't seem to stop us in a pragmatic way.

In light of what recently took place in America, did it have to take the execution style murder of three young vibrant students for us to realize that perhaps we should not waste our time with trivial matters?

And while every issue should indeed be paid attention to, what is vital to understand is just how much? How much time is really needed to argue about which shaykh should be refuted? Or if we should belong to this group or that group? Or if one opinion is better than the other? How much?

These arguments typically end whenever one becomes tired or simply just bored to continue. They can last hours for some people or days and weeks for others lasting as long as they need to until both sides simply cannot prolong it anymore.

How true was the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) when he said: "I guarantee a house on the outskirts of Paradise for he who leaves an argument even if he's right" (Sunan Abu Dawud).

Deah Barakat had a dream: "I have a dream to have a unified and structured community".



I am sure that Yusor and Razan would have felt the same way, so why don't we make that their legacy? The three future leaders of our community who were killed but left with us a need to set aside our differences, stop rebuking others at every chance we get, and simply just be there for one another.

If we all hope to be in each other's company in Paradise, why don't we start to work on it right now? Why do we need to wait for calamities to occur to know that?

I was able to witness firsthand how not speaking to my sister hurt my mom, the guilt of which I could not bear. Imagine if we could all see how disappointed Allah (swt) became with us for the way we constantly treat each other? How would we bear the guilt then?

“Giving up on life...at the age of 12" (By Mohammad Zafar)

Also published on Virtual Mosque:

http://www.virtualmosque.com/ummah/community/giving-up-on-life-at-the-age-of-12/

I distinctly remember an incident from when I was around 11 or 12 years old. I was with my family staying at our cousin's apartment while my cousin was outside in the hall playing with some friends. I, of course, stayed inside not wanting to go and join myself voluntarily. By chance he came and asked if I wanted to join him and his friends. I was hesitant at first but deep down really wanted to come. His sister and mine both encouraged me seeing I was the only boy in the home to go and join them. I couldn't pass it up so I eagerly, yet nervously, tagged along. As I stepped outside the door I remember smiling uneasily wanting to just feel accepted and enjoy hanging out with others for a change.

But as the door opened, the awkward smile I originally displayed quickly vanished. I had barely taken a step outside when one of the boys saw me and immediately made a rude remark at my appearance, essentially mocking me in front of everyone else.

I was so disappointed that night that I still remember it till this day. Although the memory has never kept me awake at nights or brought back nightmares, it still provides me with a very personal experience of complete rejection at a young age; at an age when one cannot make sense of their surroundings.

I did not want my cousin’s friends to make fun of me especially since I had enough people doing that to me in school. Extremely upset and disappointed, I hung my head down not even bothering to look straight and cussed back at the boy while he returned the favor. As we continued to exchange our extensive grade 5 vocabulary insults towards each other, I decided to then simply make my way into the apartment not wanting to talk to anyone anymore.

I wanted to be in a place at minimum where people could put up with how I looked even though they resented it. So I entered the apartment and went into the corner of one of the rooms just trying to pass the time and feeling embarrassed of how I looked, who I was, and what purpose I was serving on this cold planet. This was not a onetime incident, by now I was used to hearing insults but I could not get myself used to the pain those insults brought with them.

But much to my surprise the kids in the hall had all come back. The older brother of the boy who made fun of me, the mature 14 year old, came to apologize. That was quite something; I certainly did not expect that from him.

He insisted his brother was an "idiot" and wanted me to come and join. Then my sisters and cousin heard–oh god I really did not want that to happen. It was already embarrassing enough to hear insults in front of the other guys, but I didn't want to be reminded of it again in front of my family.

I moved closer and closer to the corner of the room hearing everyone argue back and forth. It was a bit of a happy-go-lucky argument. They would all throw jokes and argue at the same time while I simply kept a straight face in sheer disappointment thinking "why are they all doing this? Do they find this funny?"

The older brother however was very courteous. He had asked me several times to come and insisted his younger brother would not do or say anything like that again. I just kept saying "no, no. It’s okay, I’m not upset. I just don't want to come".

The argument, very lighthearted albeit, finally ended. I was probably the most disappointed after witnessing it despite not even taking part. Everyone had finally left and there I was alone. Alone – a place which always welcomed me.

The incident had however left a very sour taste in my mouth. This was not like those days when a boy at school would abruptly throw a basketball at the back of my head to amuse others or himself. It was not like those days when I was at a wedding while adults stared at me with what seemed like pity and sometimes even disgust. It was not like those days when my best friend would make fun of me to raise his status amongst the cool kids at school. No, this was different. I just felt and knew it was different.

All I wanted to do that night was to be a part of a group who accepted me for the way I was and the way I looked. I couldn't change my appearance, I just wanted to feel welcomed, play with the guys that night and feel a part of a group for once. I did not want to be alone. I did not want to be left out. I just simply wanted to belong.

I had tried and tried to fit in on many occasions before but since I could not change my appearance, I was rejected again and again and again. The more effort I put into fitting in, the worse the rejection felt. It was not easy to get rejected and try to muster up strength to give it a shot again, then only to see the same results.

It was at this point where I told myself: "I have been trying so hard to fit in all my life...I do not want to try anymore."

This is a moment I hope no one, especially those who are young, ever have to succumb to. I did not want to try anymore and I really meant it. Essentially I gave up on life. I gave up on people. I gave up trying to look for good in this world. I even gave up thinking there was any good in this world. For people like me, I convinced myself that night, there was no good! It grew in me anger, resentment and disregard for others. These feelings would only grow from there. I became extremely anti-social. I figured at that point the pain I felt when trying to fit in was simply not worth it. Perhaps if I stayed away from people altogether I would not feel this way anymore. My room became a sanctuary and a place I could always go and know would not push me out and make me feel unwanted.

I hope no one ever has to face a time like this.

Things would change however. Couple of years after I had surgery to repair the issue and now well into my adulthood I feel I perhaps talk too much at times. But I wrote this piece because strangely enough I found Allah's love and company through incidents like these. If anyone has the right to complain about life being unfair then I think I would be one of them. But today I have no complaints and as an adult I am glad I actually went through these experiences.

The pains that these experiences brought never made sense to me until adulthood. But if it were not for these “pains”, I would not know what rejection felt like. I would not know what a shattered heart torn already felt like when it would tear up again. I would not know what days and nights of involuntary loneliness felt like. I would not perhaps come to know my purpose on what sometimes can really be a cold planet.

I always had a wish to grow up and help others. I simply needed to be trained to do that. How else could I understand or relate to someone’s struggle if I had not gone or experienced it myself?

This is why I think it is so important to think positive of God because only then will one find the gems hidden in the most difficult trials of their life. You may not see the fruits of your labor and even why you were put into such hard trials for perhaps years onward. But I for one with certainty can say: It is never unfair. In fact, it is always worth it.

-------------------------------
If there is any topic, or experience, you would like me to write about in this blog please feel free to let me know:

Email: mohammad_zafar@hotmail.com

The Prophet (pbuh) went through it too...

This is a real story narrated by Sheikh Abdul Nasir Jangda, it's been put it in print for those who don't have access to the video

Told by: Shaykh Abdul Nasir Jangda

"I was telling this story in the khuṭbah a few years ago. A brother comes up to me afterward. People generally have some feedback for you after a khuṭbah. This brother says, “Brother, you know what you talked about today? It personally really moved me.” Sometimes somebody comes up to you and says something and they just have that look in their eyes like they have a story to tell. This brother had that look, so I asked him, “Brother, if you don't mind, can you share with me how the khuṭbah personally relates to you and how it personally hit home for you?” He sits down with me and tells me, “I know was born and raised Muslim, grew up in a good Muslim family – ṣalāh, masjid, Qur'ān, dhikr. It was a part of our lives as a family, but today was the first time I have prayed in almost a year.”

SubḥānAllāh, what happened? He tells me, “About a year ago I was at the point in my life where all of the pieces of the puzzle were coming together. You know what I'm talking about? You've been working for some time towards certain goals and you're at the point in time when it seems like the master plan is coming together. I was about 30 and nearing the end of my medical residency and had a young wife and two little kids. We lived the life of a student and resident in a small little apartment. We had one beat-up, old, used car. Life was tough, but we made it through school and residency. I was nearing the end of my residency and fielding very lucrative offers from doctors, groups, clinics, and hospitals. Things were looking up. We had gone to look at some nice new houses where my kids could run around and have a backyard to play in. We went minivan shopping at the dealership and were looking at nice schools where we could send our kids. The whole nine yards. Everything was looking up.

“One day I came home a little bit earlier than I normally would from the hospital. I walked in and said salām, and nobody responded. I realized that it was the time when my wife would usually put the babies down for a nap, and she would take a nap herself, so I decided I won't wake them up. I went and ate some food and started reading and passed time. An hour or so went by and I heard the kids from the bedroom. They had woken up. I could hear them being fussy in the room and got excited. I went to the room and opened the door, and the babies were sitting there awake on the bed and crying because they just woke up, but my wife is lying there motionless and not responding. I went in to take a look at her. When I checked, I realized that she was dead. She passed away.

At that moment, my world just fell apart. My life unraveled. The first couple of days were a blur during the janāzah and funeral proceedings. Once the funeral was done and reality set in that my wife was gone, the mother of my children was gone, for two weeks I did not come out of my bedroom. I locked myself in my room with the lights off and just laid there. I barely ate; I barely slept. During those two weeks, I didn't even hold my own children in my own hands. I didn't know what to do with myself. My life didn't make sense. What had happened? What am I supposed to do?

My brother who has been supportive had been there and taken care of my kids when I was incapable of taking care of them. My brother kept encouraging and motivating and telling me, 'You need to pray. If you pray, things will start to make sense again. You need to talk to Allāh and reconnect with Allāh.' I kept resisting and resisting.

One day I woke up in the morning and my brother came to me and said, 'I'm not taking no for an answer. You are coming with me to the masjid.

From the minbar, when you talked about the Prophet ṣallallāhu 'alayhi wa sallam (peace and blessings of Allāh be upon him) losing his wife and his children losing their mother, I found the answer to my problem. I realized that my Messenger Muḥammad ṣallallāhu 'alayhi wa sallam (peace and blessings of Allāh be upon him) has gone through what I'm going through. He understands my pain. He felt my pain. I felt connected to him and realized that if he could go on, so can I.”

Sometimes when you try to understand the story and can't really grasp it and really truly can't appreciate what the Prophet ṣallallāhu 'alayhi wa sallam (peace and blessings of Allāh be upon him) went through unless you went through that yourself – may Allāh subḥānahu wa ta'āla (glorified and exalted be He) protect all of us. Sometimes Allāh subḥānahu wa ta'āla (glorified and exalted be He) brings someone to you so that you can get a better understanding. You can look into the eyes of another human being and at least get some idea of what that pain was"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There's many lessons we can all learn from this:

i) For all the spouses, if your partner passed away tomorrow would you be happy with the way you treated them? Would you regret not telling them how much they meant to you? Would you then worry about any petty issue with lead to fights?

ii) For those who cannot relate to this, can you imagine the prophet's (pbuh) reaction when he lost his wife as well as his uncle? Instead of receiving help and care, the Quraish took advantage of that moment

iii) You are NEVER alone. The prophets, sahabas and the pious before you went through your exact experience (sometimes worse) and they found their way back. In fact some of the pious today went through what you may be going through and they made it out as well. Just remind yourself this: you're not alone. Learn and read the stories of how the righteous found their way out. This is something we can all relate to

Egypt, today's 1973 Chile? (By Mohammad Zafar)

Egypt, today's 1973 Chile?

What’s happening in Egypt is nothing new. On September 11, 1973, General Augusto Pinochet backed by the United States staged a military coup in Chile. He took power from the previous democratic elected government of president Salvador Allende. Sounds a bit like Egypt doesn’t it? Actually that sounds exactly like Egypt!

• In the years that followed, Pinochet’s regime would become responsible for the disappearance or killings of more than 3000 Chilean activists. The U.S didn’t like Allende’s government who somewhat posed a threat to them, so they supported Pinochet in an ‘any means necessary’ coup to take control of the country.

• People kept disappearing the louder their voices became.

• Pinochet quickly built one of the largest concentration camps since the time of Hitler. And within less than a year, he detained a quarter of a million people in these camps; away from their family, away from their loved ones and so on and so forth. Many of the women prisoners admitted they were raped but did not want to go in detail of what occurred. The prisoners were beaten everyday without mercy in the concentration camps. Most of them died.

• Why did so people step down against Pinochet? Because they couldn’t take it anymore. Women kept becoming widows, sons were being taken away, fathers were being killed and fear was spreading throughout all of Chile

• The people became scared and simply started to live a life of depression with general Pinochet running the show. Suicides started to occur in high numbers.

• When the world started to see the tyranny of General Pinochet, the U.S (Henry Kissinger) publicity denied helping take out Allende (the democratically chosen president), although CIA documents which were later leaked clearly showed their support.

• The argument made after was “Chile only exist today because of Pinochet...it just came at a huge price".

The price? “thousands of deaths” verses “stability in the economy long term”.

[In Islam, there is no argument in this. This is a crime.]
Pinochet had no regard for the people’s and their opinions. He was a truly ruthless military dictator.

• Near the end of his life, Pinochet wrote, “exile is my fate…and a kind of loneliness that I never could have imagined, much less desired”

This was the same man who once in his prime said: “Not a leaf moves in Chile without me knowing it”. SubhanAllah how close is this to the ayah in the Quran?

وَمَا تَسۡقُطُ مِن وَرَقَةٍ إِلَّا يَعۡلَمُهَا
(not a leaf falls, but He (Allah) knows it) [Surah An’am (6):59]

- This statement just shows how much control Pinochet had over the country. One can only imagine what Sisi will do if acquires this much power.

Today in Chile there is a famous saying, “Para que nunca mas en Chile (so that never again in Chile…)”.

Chileans gather every year on September 11 (the same day the military coup took place in 1973) to remember what they went through and to hope that never again does it ever happen in Chile.

We all can hope that never again will what happen in Chile happen in Egypt (or any other country for that matter). But resemblance so far is scary.

May Allah protect the Muslims in their faith wherever they are being tested.

“How I walked away from suicide” (By Mohammad Zafar)

This was something I thought I’d never have to or would want to share, but recent experiences have really pushed me to do so. It’s something I still haven’t even told my closest friends. What led me to share it was because I came across a surprisingly high number of articles, videos or discussions about Muslims struggling with stress, anxiety, depression and even having suicidal thoughts. I don’t know if I have solutions but I wrote this piece so that perhaps someone might benefit from my experience and approach their difficulties differently.

I’ve broken it down in 3 parts so it may be easier to read through it.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 1 (How the stress built up)

[Allâh does not want to place you in difficulty, but He wants to purify you, and to complete His Favour on you that you may be thankful. (5:16)]

The truth is no one wakes up one day saying ‘Oh, I think I'll kill myself’. Even as a child I knew from that age suicide was ‘Haram’ (prohibited), it was something Allah didn’t allow. And the simple thought of it was something that never even crossed my mind. Of course at that time it didn’t really need to. But what led me to go from being adamant on never thinking about taking my life, to considering it, and then finally planning to go through with it?

It was about a couple of years or so ago for the first time in my life I found myself sitting and speaking with a counselor - the way I got there was completely accidental. I was never one to express myself and preferred to never speak to anyone about any issue I had. When I did speak to someone it would only be out of dire need. But I was meeting the counselor for a reason - I needed some direction as to where I was heading in my life. I felt almost anything I tried was leading me to failure. Perhaps the counselor would help.

I told her what I felt: "I’m tired of trying and failing. I’m tired of hearing people trying to motivate me. I’m tired of the cliché ‘don’t give up’, ‘keep your head up’ gestures. I just want to put this behind me and move on".

I knew there were certain factors in my life which were the roadblocks stopping me from performing the tasks that everyone around me “expected”. But I had no clue what it was.

I went to university one day struggling with issues I couldn’t point my finger to. I can still recall that day. The professor was speaking but I could only see him moving his lips. People around me were talking to each other and yet their voices were silent. It was like my mind just hit ‘mute’ and all that I could hear in my head were the voices from my past memories. I tried and tried to get them out and there I would find myself again overwhelmed by them. I didn’t have the energy to cry. I just sat there still, neither moving my head nor getting up.

I thought back to my earlier years when I was five and my family and I moved to Canada. I had a normal childhood just like anyone else. Loved cartoons, and as I’m told, was very talkative and energetic. The turning point probably came at age 6. I needed to have immediate surgery on my nose. However in the operation the surgeon made a mistake replacing the cartilage to my nose and it resulted in a slight deformity on my face. The front part of nose was partially flat, something very difficult to ignore if you saw me back then.

And so my entire childhood, kids my age would taunt me, make fun of the way I look and beat me up at times for no other reason except that I “looked” weird. I wish I could have memories of better days, but this was it for me - a living nightmare.

I remember one day at school when one student came to my best friend and starting making fun of my appearance. I hoped in the back of my mind that at least my friend would have my back, but he in turn also started laughing. I guess he was scared in that situation but since I didn’t have many friends back then, it made it hurt even more. I could see from the side of my head them looking at me, including my best friend, pointing to their nose and just laughing. I turned my face away and just kept my head down.

It was a normal occurrence for me to be walking down the street as a young kid while girls my age would walk past me and within 5 seconds burst out laughing. Perhaps it was something else, but I couldn’t help and think it was me. I tried to keep it in, how will long will this last I thought? The next day would sometimes be worse than the day before. I didn’t know how to handle it. If I stayed quiet and patient, the mockery would just continue.

At times in school during recess, I would be walking alongside a wall when two or three kids from the school would start throwing tennis balls at my direction at full speed. They would taunt me throwing the ball right in front of me and right behind me as I would try to duck and avoid getting hit. And when it drilled my face, they would laugh and sarcastically say “oops, I missed. I was just trying to hit the wall”.

I started to become more and more distant from others and wouldn’t speak much. I became extremely anti-social. Anything I’d say or do had to be disregarded because of how I looked. And worse, there was no way around it. No matter what I did or what I said, nothing could change the way I looked.

My parents later put me into an Islamic school. It didn’t really change things (kids are kids of course). Now there was just a different group of students to bully me.

When coming back from school I wouldn’t bother even leaving the home at times. When I would go outside, people in the street would look at me with awkward stares - you would think I’d get used to it right? No, not one bit.

Things took a turn for the worse, when I was 11 our family friend came to our doorstep and announced dad had passed away battling cancer. My sisters screamed in shock, I walked up to my mother to hug her and she, completely overwhelmed by what just happened, pushed me away and broke down crying. So the only male influence I ever had in my life was gone just like that. I never had a male role-model to learn from - it was just my mom and five (older) sisters from there.

Right before high school I finally had surgery to repair my nose. And although now I 'looked' like a normal kid, I certainly didn’t feel like one. You know the parable “when you keep pushing someone into a corner, sooner or later they’ll turn around and come back at you”? That was essentially me. The years and years of verbal/physical abuse caught up and now I had become extremely cranky and rude tempered. This included getting into fights with anyone who made fun of me, yelling back at teachers, cursing, etc. I basically became what you could label as a ‘troubled kid’.

But I felt I had to act this way because there was no way around it. No one had my back. My friends would walk away. My dad was dead. My mom could hardly speak English. My sisters had no clue how to deal with a brother - as I was the only guy in the house. I felt in order for anyone to show me respect, I would have to scream back to them so they would understand I was no pushover.

I also couldn’t speak up for myself. I didn’t know how to respond when someone taunted me in front of others, my immediate response was just to curse, yell or fight back (even if it were an adult). Teachers and elders would always look at me as a spoiled kid or someone who had no respect for others. My family friends would often ask my mother why her son was so distant from people and bad-mannered. I felt like no one around me understood who I was.

Ya Allah when would this end? I felt something bothering me inside. I started having mental breakdowns as a teenager. I wanted to run away. I wanted to leave my home, run and just run. Where? I had no idea, just run until I could run no more. My mom had no idea what was going on in my life, but can I hold a grieving widow responsible? I was a regular kid just like others around me, I wanted friends, I wanted some attention, I wanted to be noticed, I wanted people to stop looking at me with disgust…I couldn’t find it anywhere.

I just knew that I could only find that peace I so dearly wanted in Islam. So one day I went to my mother and said: “mom, I can’t go to this school anymore, I want to leave this place and go to a Quran academy, maybe memorize the Quran. Or just go to the mosque every day and pray. I just can’t go to school”. She was very unwavering on the thought of leaving school and continuously told me “No”. So over the remaining stretch of high school, I would start skipping classes upon classes. In my eyes school only represented hurt feelings, loneliness, betrayal, bullying, and heartbreak. I didn’t want to be there anymore. I would show up to class uninterested and gave every reason for teachers to assume I didn’t care.

But I was fortunate to have a couple of teachers from Islamic school who were very understanding of my situation. They never yelled at me despite my obvious behavioral issues. I would go to school sometimes just because I felt “welcomed” in their class. What made them great was I could look up to them as older siblings rather than teachers. They didn't just come to work for their paycheck, they really cared about all their students. But unfortunately both of them would move to different locations and I would lose my connection to school again.

Several times throughout the year I would wake up suddenly in the middle of nights with something I felt was piercing through my heart. It was a weird feeling. I felt disturbed and extremely confused. I felt lost in this world, like I didn’t belong here. The only remedy I found was crying. I would start crying profusely and not know why I was doing it. I found no words to explain how I felt except for the stream of tears that would run down my face. And no matter what I did, things just wouldn’t change.

Who would want to continue living like this? It was at that point I started to ponder committing suicide.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2 (To commit suicide or not? Back-and-forth battle)

[“Truly, Allâh is with As-Sâbirin (the patient ones)” (2:153)]

But the notion of suicide didn’t stay long with me. How could I do it I thought? It’s Haram. Then the waswaas (whispers) of Satan would start: ‘But lying, backbiting and cheating are all haram and yet many people still do it. Even the ones who would discourage you from suicide do it’. So I thought maybe I should do it then. Honestly what would be the point of living? I wasn’t going to hurt anyone and I also didn’t want to upset Allah (swt). I would tell myself that all I’m doing by staying alive is getting Allah (swt) more and more upset by sinning. Suicide would at least bring the sins to an end. To say that I was going back-and-forth with myself those days would be an understatement.

It made sense to me at the time to go through with it. I just about convinced myself and not even the thought of my mother and sisters missing me had any effect. But the sole reason I didn’t go through with it at the time was because I just couldn’t convince myself that Allah (swt) would be happy to see me come to Him like this. If I truly loved someone I would want to make the best first impression I could to them. And I felt that in the loneliest of times there was always Allah watching over me. When I had my back turned against the wall, the One and only One that could help me was Him. And I thought, what if I was about to be thrown in Hellfire, how could I have the audacity to call unto Allah to help me if I came to Him like this (i.e: suicide)? That concern, and nothing else, is why I’m still alive today.

But not going through with it didn’t really change things. Out of dire distress I would begin to sob and cry (for reasons I didn't know) over many more sleepless nights. And sometimes out of dire distress I would go walking outside for hours heading nowhere.

Time passed as it usually does.

I kept my issues private. Barring a few breakdowns I seemed to be handling it quite well. High school was finally over but my mother wanted me to go to university now. I was however fed up of school as I had nothing but bad memories from it. I couldn’t endure more. Although I passed high school barely showing up for classes, I couldn’t keep this up in university. I tried, and then left. I went back and then left again - a cycle which I became very tired of. So I started working any job I could find to stay busy. Work felt a bit easier. I didn’t have to think, just do.

I was just tired of school. As soon as I went and sat in my chair the memories would start. As soon as I tried to study, the memories would start. I couldn’t study at all with these issues bothering me. However my mom wouldn’t stand the thought of seeing her only son do this. She and my sisters would all gather up and repeat the same things to me: ‘you’re doomed for failure, you’re going to regret this’; ‘do you want to work as a loser your whole life?’, ‘what will people say?’, ‘you obviously don’t care about your future’, etc. I know they said it with the best intentions but it got to a point where I didn’t feel like coming home anymore.

I would roam around the streets late into the night just so I didn't have to go back home and hear another lecture. I couldn't help but fantasize about a destination I could walk to right there and then, but I just didn't know where to go, where to look and where to even start. I was lost, just completely lost. Even though I knew my family wanted what was best for me, I found the most practical solution in simply distancing myself from them.

They wanted me to do things my friends were doing, and I had become fed up of them comparing me to other guys who were doing better than me. I just wanted peace of mind and no one to bother me but that clearly wasn’t happening. And worse, I still didn’t know why I couldn’t do the same things my friends could. What’s wrong with me I used to think day and night?

At that point I felt like I didn’t belong in this world (again). There was something wrong with me. I wasn’t capable of doing anything while others around me did it with ease. I prayed and prayed for death. I would cry making dua to Allah so that He could take me off this earth. I slept at times hoping my life would end as I would die in my sleep and wake up to meet Allah. Instead I would wake up in my same bed disappointed and knowing that I had to go through another day.

My patience ran out. Everyone around me would advice me on how I should be living my life. I was tired of receiving advice. I started to have mental breakdowns again because of the stress. But I did a very good job of hiding these feelings from others, only my mom would see me in distress. Her motherly love led her to become more patient with me. “It’ll get better, don’t worry. You don’t have to do anything. Just be happy” she would say. Although deep down I knew how much she wanted me to study and that led me to feel even more ashamed. My mom just wanted her only son to study and I couldn’t even do that.

My mental health started to affect my physical health. I felt fatigued the entire day and had no energy to do anything. In a period of a few months, without any change in diet or exercise, I lost more than 20 pounds. My blood pressure was pushing towards the 170/110 numbers, which is really bad. I knew though that my body couldn’t handle the stress anymore.

Back came the thoughts of suicide, but this time they were very strong. I just couldn’t take it now. Allah will forgive me I kept saying trying to convince myself.

So one day I wrote a text message to a friend and indirectly wrote how I was about to go through with suicide. I lost the energy to cry and just did it unemotionally. The police would find the text message in my phone and perhaps that would explain to my family why I did it. I just wanted to quietly leave this world and not bother anyone in the process. And as weird as it sounds, I really wanted to meet Allah.

I prayed to Allah to take my life Himself as I really didn’t want to go through with it. I took off to the Masjid hoping Allah would take my life while I prayed Isha salah or else I would have to kill myself. I came in a little late for Salah as everyone was praying and before I joined, I took a deep breath telling myself that this was my last Salah. The prayer ended and there I was still alive. I walked home frustrated, kicking the ground and upset why my dua wasn’t answered.

I wanted to jump on the street with fast moving cars going by. But just before I could take any further step, those same thoughts that stopped me from committing suicide back in high school would resurface. I just couldn’t go to Allah and meet Him like this. I only had one chance to make a first impression and this just wasn’t it.

Yet things still weren’t improving. I didn’t see any dream. No magic light ran past my home. Nothing drastic happened…everything was just like it was. Although I couldn’t convince myself to commit suicide, I would try that fate help me. So I started riding my bike late at night as fast as I could, with my head down, hoping a car would come and hit me…somehow I survived through it all.

It was an unbearable ordeal, subhanAllah what an ordeal it was. Had Allah not created patience, I felt like that would have been the end of me.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

PART 3 (I would go on to thank Allah for all my problems)

[The Prophet (pbuh) said, “Verily, the hearts of all the children of Adam are between the two fingers of Allah. He turns them wherever He wills.” Then he said, “O Allah, the Turner of the hearts, turn our hearts towards Your obedience.” (Sahih Muslim)]

Alhamdulilah things started to slowly improve after that. I didn’t have an epiphany, but I did start to improve slowly. I would learn a lesson one day and then couple of weeks or months later learn something else. There wasn’t any miracle that came and changed things but it wasn’t something that simple either. It was more of a gradual change than something that simply took place overnight.

Things didn't really improve...I improved.

I felt like I really started to mature. I didn’t care much for failure anymore. I started to look at things differently. I became more and more independent, started to spend time with friends and started to dwell into the things that interested me. I stopped comparing myself to others and just worried about the things that would benefit me. I would start to go out of my way to please friends, family, brothers at the Mosque and even strangers (for Allah) and in a short time I started to feel better.

My sister once sat down and told me ‘I think there were a lot of people telling you what to do’ - it was her way of apologizing. I just smiled when I heard that and told her ‘it is what it is’.

I started to think more positive about Allah, how short sided I was subhanAllah. The more and more positive I thought about Allah, the more and more I started to understand things clearly.

The odd thing was, not much changed from before, in terms from just problems - they were still there. But my mind wasn’t occupied with them as much. The only difference now was I didn’t care as much. I wanted to read a book on the stories of the prophets, I wanted to listen to lectures, I wanted to spend time with my sisters and their kids, I wanted to spend time with friends, I wanted to sit down and converse with my mom - and I wanted to do it so He would be more pleased with me. The more I did it, and the more I went out of my way to do it, I felt my life had a better balance.

But I couldn’t make sense of it. I didn’t make it large. I didn’t acquire this world’s riches, I didn’t become famous, I didn’t even accomplish much (in terms of this dunya) - yet I felt like I was where I wanted to be or heading to where I wanted to go. It is what has led me to strongly and wholeheartedly believe that tranquility and happiness isn’t in money, respect from people, one’s job or education…it’s within thinking more and more upon what will make my Lord happy.

Allah (swt) was the Best Teacher/Guide/Helper/Caregiver I ever had.

When my dad wasn’t there to show me how to do things, I would come across someone else by chance who would help me. Now when I look back to it, Allah (swt) was helping me through that person. When I had no one to befriend in dire loneliness, I knew Allah (swt) was a dua away. When I was hurting, broke and even (felt) that my own family had pushed me away - I knew Allah (swt) never looked at my wealth, status or what the whole world thought of me. All of it started to sink in. The confusion started to go away. My life was flashing before me again, but I started to view it with a different lens - through the love and care of my Creator. I started to see the positive in almost every hardship…

People could say what they wanted about where I worked - I enjoyed it and was relaxed, so why would their opinions matter? My family friends could look down on me if they wanted - but would their approval or disapproval change my connection with Allah?

I felt at peace with who I was. I didn’t feel I needed to be accepted by others. I just had to be confident in who I was. The iman that entered my heart gave me the confidence I never thought existed. It helped me to speak up when at one point I never thought I could. I started to expect less and less from others and more and more from Allah. I stopped freaking out at mishaps. My anger at the world turned to forgiveness. The past memories, which were nightmares (and I still feel they are), still came back to me but it was a small price to pay for all the good that came with it. I started to thank Allah for all those bad memories.

I stopped forcing things on myself and started to live more relaxed. Now I wanted to study - I had realized how much interest I always had in history and decided to pursue a degree in it. For the first time in my life I felt confident I could actually do it. It didn’t feel impossible to me anymore.

The biggest deception I was in was that I thought my problems had to go away so I could live a happy life. But my problems never went away, and still haven’t. Like I mentioned before, the only difference now is…I just don’t care as much. They don’t weigh on me like they used to. Who other than Allah do I have to thank for that?

Right before publishing this article I came across a quote by Sr. Yasmin Mogahed which I feel really summed up my entire life:

“Your life is nothing more than a love story. Between you and Allah. Nothing more. Every person, every experience, every gift, every loss, every pain is sent to your path for one reason and one reason only: to bring you back to Him”.

Before ending, I wanted to share just a couple of points…

Back in my teens when I used to skip school, I couldn’t tell others I wasn’t feeling well (it was hard to explain). And when I would explain, others around me would think I was using an excuse. They would say “you’re healthy, you’re walking, you’re playing sports…how again you are not feeling well?” They didn’t see any external issues I had and I guess automatically assumed I was perfectly fine.

I kept hearing people telling me “life is hard Mohammad, you can’t be so weak. You have to toughen up” and the cliché “you can’t just run away from life’s problems”.

The way I look at it now is…

Imagine you’re having stomach pain. Will you keep taking advice on how to rid the pain from friends and family (even though they have your best interests) or will you go to a doctor? If it’s a day or two, then most of us would probably go and ask our parents about it. But imagine the pain goes on for weeks? Or for months? Would you still go to family and friends or would you think about visiting a professional, like a doctor? If it’s a no-brainer to visit a doctor for these “pains” then why should one completely change their perception when it comes to battling the “pains” of mental health? Why when it comes to mental health does everyone become a professional?

People’s words would really bother me, especially the ones who had no idea what they were talking about. But when I started to look at the way I just described, I would imagine my response at a barber (instead of a doctor) telling me what to take for my stomach pain. After thinking about it like that, I stopped worrying when others would criticize me. At least they had my best interests, so if anything I could thank them for the worry in their voice.

I certainly am not in a position to advice any of you regarding your troubles. If you’re tired of countless advice, trust me, I know the feeling. But I’ll share with you a few things that really helped me to address my concerns. You could apply them if you wish:

1. I stopped caring what people would think of me and stopped comparing myself to others: I can’t tell you how hard this was to do and also how much it helped me after. Even now when I hear this so-and-so person is doing better than me, I feel happy for them but know that I have my own path in life. I don’t need to take the same path as everyone else.

2. I started to forgive everyone: I made it a goal I should never sleep if I hold a grudge against anyone.

3. I started to admit my mistakes: I was always embarrassed to admit I did something wrong. I felt that others wouldn’t show me respect if I did so. But instead, others were very forgiving and understanding. Admitting my mistakes made me feel comfortable being who I was. I didn’t feel I needed to be perfect. And knowing that I would slip up from time to time, I wouldn’t look at my mistakes like the end of the world.

4. I became very honest: Honest with myself and with others. I stopped yelling back at people so they would show me respect. Instead if I felt they were disrespecting me, I went to them in private and calmly told them why I didn’t like it. They would mostly stay quiet and just apologize right away.

5. Sincerity was the “secret”: I came across a book by Sr. Amira Ayad called ‘The true Secret’. In it she simply implied how sincerity was the secret ingredient needed to bring the help of Allah. Nothing brought me more hope than doing things with sincerity. The more sincere something was, the more weight it had.

6. I stopped expecting from people but raised my expectations from Allah: I never felt disappointed doing this.

What would I say to a Muslim who wanted to commit suicide? Simple. A reminder of a hadith from the prophet (pbuh) who 3 days before his death said:

"Let none of you die unless he has good expectations from Allah"
[Saheeh Muslim].

Every person owes it to themselves to search for ALL the good Allah has placed within the trials of their lives. The only way to unveil the good hidden within hardships is to think positive about Allah. One would commit the greatest injustice to himself dying with keeping bad expectations of Allah.

I think it’s human nature to hope for God to show you a sign Himself. But what I learned was a sign doesn’t always come to you, sometimes you need to put in the effort and search for them yourself. I don’t remember doing anything specific except that I made a sincere intention and effort to search for those signs.

Nearly two times in my life I pondered and considered taking my life. Truth be told, I would love to meet Allah (swt) as soon as possible but I’ll let Him decide when He wants that to be. I just know I have a lot of work that needs to be done.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thank you to all of you for taking the time to read through this. If you have questions at all, feel free to contact me:

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/mohammadzafar
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/mohammadzafaryoutubechannel
Email: mohammad_zafar@hotmail.com

:: Best times to make Dua ::

When Are Dua’s Accepted

Compiled by Abu Hibbaan & Abu Khuzaimah Ansaari

In recent times when calamities are befalling the Muslims and all of us are in need of supplicating and asking Allaah for aid and assistance, we thought it would be important to compile something to show the times and instances when our duas are accepted.

Generally Allaah listens to his servants and slaves any and every time and accepts their supplications and invocations, however there are instances when our duas are accepted a lot quicker or specified to be accepted. We wish to mention some of them inshaAllaah.

1. In The Month Of Ramadhaan

Abu Sa’eed al-Khudree narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “Without doubt Allaah saves people from the fire of hell every day and night in ramadhaan and verily there is a dua for every Muslim in the day and night in the month of ramadhaan that is accepted.” (Imaam al-Albaanee said Saheeh Li-Ghayrihi, Saheeh at-Targheeb Wat-Tarheeb (no.1002), Kashf us-Sataar (no.962) of Imaam Bazzaar)

Abu Hurairah (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “There are 3 people whose dua are not rejected. (1) The just ruler, (2) The one who fasts until he does iftar and (3) the dua of the oppressed. Allaah will raise their dua on the day of judgement without any clouds and the doors of the skies will be opened and Allaah will say, I swear by my honour I will indeed help you even though it may be a little later.” (Tirmidhee (no.3598), Ibn Maajah (no.1752), Ahmad (2/305), Ibn Hibbaan (no.3428)

2. On Laylatul – Qadr

Indeed, We sent the Qur’an down during the Night of Decree. And what can make you know what is the Night of Decree? The Night of Decree is better than a thousand months. The angels and the Spirit descend therein by permission of their Lord for every matter. Peace it is until the emergence of dawn. (Soorah al-Qadr)

Due to the virtue of this night and the great significance contained in it.

Abu Hurairah (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrated that the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said: “Whoever stands (in prayer) in Laylatul Qadr while nourishing his faith with self-evaluation, expecting reward from Allah, will have all of his previous sins forgiven.” (Bukhaari and Muslim refer to Saheeh al-Jaam’e 2/1100).

Aishah (RadhiAllaahu AnhA) narrates, “I asked Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam), “If I find Laylatul Qadr then what should I do? He (the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam)) said, recite this Dua.“ALLAAH HUMMA INNAKA A’FUWUN TOHI BUL AFVA FA’AFU ANNI” (Ibn Maajah (no.3850), Tirmidhee (no.3513), Mishkaat (no.2091) Allaamah al-Albaanee said Saheeh)

Imaam Shawkaanee said, “One of the great criterion of this night is that the duas of the people are accepted and this is the reason why the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) encouraged the companions to search for this night and the great desire to attain it.” (Tuhfatudh-Dhaakireen (pg.46)

3. On The Day of Arafah (The 9th of Dhul Hijjah)

Amr on the authority of his grandfather narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “The best dua is the dua on the day of Arafah. The best dua I and the prophets before me made is, “la ilaaha illallahu wahdahu la sharika lahu lahul-mulku wa lahul-hamdu, wa huwa a’la kulli shay’in qadeer.” (Tirmidhee (no.3585) Saheeh al-Jaam’e (no.1102) Imaam al-Albanee said Saheeh)

4. The Third Part Of The Night

The night is the period from the time of sunset until the sun rises.

Abu Hurairah (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “Our lord descends to the heavens of this earth at the third part of every night and says, “Who is there who supplicates so that I may accept it? Who asks me so that I may give him? Who seeks forgiveness from me so that I may forgive him.” (Saheeh Bukhaari (no.1145) with Fath ul-Baaree (11/133), Saheeh Muslim (no.758), Tirmidhee (no.446) and Saheeh Jaam’e (2/1357)

In another narration Amr bin Absah (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “Allaah is close to his servant in the last part of the night, if you are capable then supplicate and be from amongst those who remember him at that time.” (Nasaa’ee, Tirmidhee (no.3579), Saheeh Ibn Khuzaimah and Mustadrak al-Haakim, refer to Saheeh al-Jaam’e (1/259 no.1173), Mishkaat (no.1229), Saheeh al-Adhkaar (pg.73) Shaikh al-Albaanee said Saheeh)

5. A Particular Period Every Night

Jaabir ibn Abdullaah (RadhiAllaahu Anhuma) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “There is a period every night in which a Muslims asks Allaah for goodness in this world and in the hereafter then Allaah definitely fulfils it and this period occurs every night.” (Saheeh Muslim and Musnad Ahmad, refer to Saheeh Jaam’e as-Sagheer 1/427)

6. In the Middle Of The Night.

Uthmaan bin Abee al-Aas ath-Thaqafee (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “The doors in the heaven open in the middle of the night and a caller announces is there anyone supplicating that his supplication is accepted? Is there anyone asking for something so that he is given it? Is there anyone under distress so that this is made easy for him? No Muslim will remain who supplicates and his supplication is not answered, except the woman soliciting or the one who forcefully takes money from others.” (Silsilah Ahadeeth as-Saheehah 3/62)

7. Waking Up Suddenly During The Night.

Mu’adh (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “The Muslims goes to sleep whilst making dhikr of Allaah and then he wakes up at anytime during the night and then asks Allaah for any good from this world or the hereafter then Allaah grants him his request.” (Abu Dawood, Ibn Maajah, Musnad Ahmad, and Tayalisee. Refer to Saheeh al-Jaam’e 2/1003, Saheeh at-Targheeb no.597, Mishkaat no.1215)

Ubaadah ibn Saamit (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “Whoever wakes up whilst sleeping he should recites the following la ilaaha illallahu wahdahu la sharika lahu lahul-mulku wa lahul-hamdu, wa huwa a’la kulli shay’in qadeer alhamdulillahi wa subhanallahi, wa la ilaha illallah, wallaahu akbar wa laa hawla wa laa quwata. And then he says Allaahumag-firlee and seeks forgiveness from Allaah or he supplicates, his dua is accepted and he gets up and makes wudhu and prays then his prayer will also be accepted.” (Bukhaari, Abu Dawood, Tirmidhee, Saheeh al-Kalim at-Tayyab)

8. At The Time Of Adhaan

Sahl ibn Sa’ad (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “The dua is not rejected at 2 times, after the Adhaan and whilst it is raining…..” (Abu Dawood, Mustadrak Haakim and Saheeh Ibn Hibbaan. Refer to Saheeh al-Jaam’e (1/590), as-Saheehah (no.1469) Saheeh at-Targheeb (no.266) (2 narrations combined)

Anas (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates a hadeeth that, “When the call to prayer is made the doors of the heavens are opened and supplications are accepted.” (transmitted by Abu Ya’ala, Tayalisee, al-Mukhtarah of Dhiya al-Maqdisee, refer to Saheeh al-Jaam’e 1/203 and as-Saheeheh no.1413)

9. At The Time Of Iqaamah

A mursal report from Makhool mentions the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “A supplication is accepted during the time of standing in battle for war, at the time of Iqaamah and whilst it is raining.” (Musnad Shaafi’ee and Ma’arifus Sunan Wal-Aathaar of Imaam Baihaqee, refer to Saheeh al-Jaam’e 1/235, this report reaches the level of Hasan due to supporting narrations refer to Shaikh al-Albaanee’s as-Saheehah no.1469)

10. Between the Adhaan and Iqaamah

Anas (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “A dua is not rejected between the Adhaan and Iqaamah. The companions asked, “what shall we ask for Oh Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam).” He (the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam)) said, “Ask Allaah for wellness/good health in his world and in the hereafter.” (Abu Dawood, Tirmidhee no.212, Saheeh Tirmidhee no.175, 244, Abu Dawood no.521, Nasaa’ee, Ibn Khuzaimah, Ibn Hibbaan and Musnad Ahmad (3/119), Shaikh al-Albaanee said Saheeh, refer to, Irwaa ul-Ghaleel no.224, Takhreej al-Kalim at-Tayyab no.73 of al-Arnaa’oot and Saheeh al-Adhkaar pg.55 of Imaam Nawawee)

A narration in Abu Dawood states, “A dua that is made between the Adhaan and Iqaamah is accepted hence make dua.” (Saheeh Sunan Abee Dawood 1/105 of Allaamah al-Albaanee)

The wording of the narration in Mustadrak al-Haakim is, “The dua that is made between Adhaan and Iqaamah is accepted.” (Saheeh al-Jaam’e 1/641 of Imaam al-Albaanee)

11. At The Time Of Prostration

Allaah accepts the supplication that is done whilst in prostration.

Abu Hurairah (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “A worshipper becomes close to Allaah when he is prostrating hence make dua abundantly at such a time.” (Saheeh Muslim, Abu Dawood (no.875), Nasaa’ee no.1173, Baihaqee, Abu Awaanah and Musnad Ahmad. Refer to Saheeh Sunan Abee Dawood 1/166, Irwaa ul-Ghaleel no.456 and Saheeh al-Jaam’e 1/259 no.1175 and Saheeh at-Targheeb no.387)

Similarly it is narrated by Ibn Abbaas (RadhiAllaahu Anhu)h the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “As for the prostration, then one should supplicate fervently, as it is possible it may be accepted.” (Saheeh Muslim, Abu Dawood, Nasaa’ee, Ibn Maajah refer to Saheeh al-Jaam’e 1/536)

12. After The Obligatory Prayers And At The Time of Suhoor

Abu Umaamah (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) was asked which dua is readily accepted? So he the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “The dua during the last part of the night and the dua after the obligatory prayers.” (Shaikh al-Albaanee said Hasan in Saheeh Tirmidhee, Tirmidhee no.3499, Sunan Tirmidhee with Tuhfa 9/331, Saheeh Targheeb no.1648 and Mishkaat no.1231)

The suhoor falls in the last part of the night and therefore it is included in this period. It is also a sign of the believers and those who have taqwaa to seek forgiveness in their duas.

Allaah says,

“They used to sleep but little of the night, And in the hours before dawn they would ask forgiveness,” (Soorah adh-Dhaariyaat 51:17-18)

And

“The patient, the true, the obedient, those who spend [in the way of Allah ], and those who seek forgiveness before dawn.” (Soorah Ale-Imraan 3:17

13. Whilst Fighting The Kuffar

Sahl ibn Sa’ad (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “The dua is not rejected at 2 times, after the Adhaan and when 2 armies are ready to battle” (Shaikh al-Albaanee said Saheeh, Abu Dawood no.2540, Refer to Saheeh al-Jaam’e (1/590 no.3079), Saheeh at-Targheeb (no.266)

14. Whilst Drinking Zam Zam Water

Jaabir ibn Abdullaah (RadhiAllaahu Anhuma) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “Whatever (good deed) zam zam water is drank for, it is fulfilled.” (Shaikh al-Albaanee said Saheeh, Saheeh Ibn Maajah no.2484, Ibn Maajah no.3062)

15. A Specific Period On Jumu’ah

Abu Hurairah (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “There is a period on Jumu’ah that if a Muslim asks Allaah for something whilst praying then Allaah grants him his request. Then he the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) indicated with his hands the shortness of that period” (Bukhaari no.935, 5294, Muslim no.852, Ibn Maajah no.1082. refer to Saheeh al-Adhkaar pg.53)

Abu Lubaabah Badree narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “There is a period on jumu’ah that when a worshippers asks Allaah for something he is granted it.” (Shaikh al-Albaanee said Hasan, Saheeh Ibn Maajah no.888)

The wording of Saheeh Muslim is, “There is a short period.” (refer to Saheeh al-Adhkaar pg.54)

This period is not exactly known but Imaam Ahmad said, “We find from most of the ahadeeth about this period and we hope that our dua are answered, is after the Asr prayer or we hope it is after the sun reaches its zenith ie jumu’ah time.” (Sunan Tirmidhee 2/361 cited from Saheeh al-Adhkaar pg.54-55)

The Scholars have differed as to the exact time of this period due to the differing and various narrations that mention this period which led Haafidh Ibn Hajr as citing 40 various statements of the Scholars pertaining to this period (Fath ul-Baaree 3/82). Hence duas should be made after jumu’ah till the end of the day, as some of the scholars have said. (Fatwaa Islaamiyyah 1/400)

16. On the Night of Jumu’ah

Alee (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “There is a period on the night of jumu’ah (ie Thursday evening.) in which a dua is accepted.” (Sunan Tirmidhee cited from Saheeh al-Adhkaar pg.54)

17. During Rain

The Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “Seek the time of the acceptance of dua, when 2 armies meet to battle, during the time of Iqaamah and when it rains.” (Silsilatul-Ahadeeth as-Saheehah no.1469)

18. After Reciting The Quraan

Imraan ibn Hussain (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “Whoever recites the Quraan should ask Allaah with it (ie make dua) as in the future there will come a group of people who will recite the Quraan but yet still ask the people (for help) by it.” (Shaikh al-Albaanee said Hasan, Tirmidhee no.2917, Musnad Ahmad no.19039, Silsilah Ahadeeth as-Saheehah 1/461)

19. During The Gathering of Muslims

The Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “When a nation gathers and indulges in the dhikr of Allaah the angels encompass them and the mercy of Allaah descends upon them and the tranquillity, then Allaah mentions them amongst what is with him (ie the creation with ie the angels.” (Saheeh Muslim, also Saheeh al-Adhkaar pg.57)

20. When the Rooster Cocks

Abu Hurairah (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) narrates the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “When you hear the rooster cock then ask Allaah for his grace because it (ie the rooster) sees an angel and when you hear the bray of a donkey then seek refuge in Allaah because it sees shaytaan.” (Bukhaari no.3303, Muslim no.2729)

21. After Closing the Eyes Of the Deceased

Umm Salamah (RadhiAllaahu Anha) narrates “After the death of Abu Salamah (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) the Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) went to her and his (ie Abu Salamahs (RadhiAllaahu Anhu) eyes were opened. So he Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) closed his eyes and said, “When the soul is taken the eyes follow it.” So the household started to scream so he Messenger of Allaah (Sallalahu Alayhee Wasallam) said, “Do not call up yourself anything except good as whatever you say at that time the angels say Ameen.” (Muslim no.920, Abu Dawood no.3118)