“Do you practice Islam?” he
asked.
“Yes. No. Between,” I shrugged.
“You are nobody! Just stumbling between Muslimoon and Kuffar... between Yes and
No,” William commented and laughed ironically.
I opened my mouth to say something but I was unable to utter a word. My silence
supported his words.
“So you accept the fact,” he chuckled, thrusting hands in his pocket.
I was still quiet. My head bent down. I had nothing left to say. I had been
arguing with him for about an hour. I had lost it. His one sentence was heavier
than my hour’s logic.
“Absorbed in thinking, Zubair?” he laughed once again. “See you later!” He
turned around to pick up his accessories from the bench. Before leaving he
turned back to me. After seeing tears shining in my eyes, he patted my shoulder
and said, “By the way, it was nice arguing with you. I enjoyed it.” I raised my
head. I was looking at his face, just looking. When he got out of my sight, I
broke into tears of pain, regret, shame. I didn’t know what to name them. They
were real tears. I could feel my heart crying. Islam had lost because of a
Muslim.
I sat down on the bench from which William had just picked up his things. I felt
I was no one in this world ... like I was invisible. “I am not going to do
anything till I feel I’m really visible,” I had told myself. That was the day
when for the first time in my eighteen years of life I realized that I needed to
be somebody. Not an animal living his life just like way it wants to. I needed
to follow some rules. I could not go on with my life like that. I was heading
nowhere. I was of nowhere. Like a kite, floating in the sky whose string no one
was holding. Maybe, like a pendulum ... moving to and fro. Once on the right
side then the left. I was the same. Once on the correct side then the wrong.
Sometimes practicing Islam and sometimes not.
I sat there looking at the shady trees. My eyes became fixed on a tree. It was
at quite some distance. It was the tallest tree of all with wide-spreading
branches. High up ... outstanding. My eyes travelled down to a broken twig that
had fallen to the ground, not far from the bark. My mind was bombarded with
strange thoughts. I felt that the tree as Islam and I was a leaf on that broken
twig. I felt myself a part of the tree ... somehow connected and someway not ...
having no identity, no connection. I had learnt my lesson. I had learnt what I
needed to learn desperately.
Two Years Later …
“Assalamualaikum, yaakhi!” I ran towards him.
“Wa’alikumassalam!” he replied warmly.
“It feels like I know you. But I can’t seem to remember,” I said scratching my
head.
“I reverted to Islam seven months ago,” he replied smiling. “I feel like I know
you too.” He was thinking hard. “Will you please take off your sunglasses?” he
requested, smiling.
“Sure!” I quickly took of my glasses and looked straight at him. He looked into
my eyes and then I saw recognition filling his eyes.
“Are you Zubair?” he asked slowly.
“Yeah! So you have recognized me but who are you?” I asked excitedly.
“Yesterday’s William,” he said smiling. “Today’s Umair.”
My mouth fell open. The person who used to argue with me the most about Islam,
had accepted Islam? He was the one with whom I had the last argument before
leaving the University. His words ‘Between Yes and No!’ had changed me from head
to toe. His words had made me a practicing Muslim.
I hugged him tightly. “You owe me,” I said blissfully. “What made you revert to
Islam?” I asked him patiently.
“Your tear-filled eyes and painful silence,” he replied smiling.
“What do you mean?” I asked bewildered.
“You were arguing with me at the University so confidently. I knew I was losing.
I off-handedly said that you just claim to be Muslims, you don’t follow Islam.
Just stumble between following and not-following.”
The whole event flashed in my mind.
He continued, “It was not a good logic to win. But your eyes instantly filled
with tears and your confidence was taken over by gloominess. I was shaken from
my body to soul. Your ashamed behavior made me ponder upon Islam and its
teachings. I began studying Islam by taking off the glasses of arrogance. As
Islam is the truth so I couldn’t help but accepting it.”
I was looking at him dumbfounded. My argument with him had haunted me for many
days and nights. I used to think to myself that I had turned him against Islam.
I thought of myself as a sinner. I had then started taking classes to learn and
practice Islam. All these months I had been studying and praying for him from
the depths of my heart. Today, meeting him outside Masjid after Dhuhr Salah, my
eyes were flowing with tears of gratefulness that My Allah Ta’ala hadn’t
forgotten me and had answered my prayers.
Dear Readers, There is no such thing as Practicing Muslims, Partially-Practicing
Muslims or Non-Practicing Muslims. You are either a Muslim or you are not.
Claiming Islam and not practicing it puts us in the category of ‘AmliMunafiqeen’
i.e. hypocrites by actions. Astaghfirullah!
As Allah سبحانہ وتعالی says in the Quran: deen men dakhil ho jao, puray k puray.