There is a constant reminder in the Qur'an, telling us to be steadfast in our prayers, or as many an Urdu sticker would say, "Namaz qaim karo". It is a verse that we are so used to reading that oftentimes, many of us who get stuck at almost every other line in the Qur'an will read this one over smoothly, "Wa aqeem-us-salaata..."
For the past couple of weeks, I have tried to do exactly this and I feel that it is not only us who have to be steadfast in prayer, but also that praying regularly makes us steadfast. There is a constancy in praying five times a day that almost nothing can take away from you. No matter how grave the events of the day have been, you go to sleep in peace because you know that you have a God to wake up to. There is a beauty in supplicating yourself to the Lord of "Kun Fayakun", the Allah who has always blessed you and who makes you autonomous from every human being. This is the only form of supplication, the only lowering of the ego, the only form of asking that does not denigrate human dignity, but instead increases it. It is a vent for our expectations to the one being capable of fulfilling them all, so that you stop having expectations from people. There is something strongly elevating about praying; it takes you to the above and beyond where people's remarks, their actions and their circumstances which may ordinarily have effected you or hurt you, become inconsequential. For me, prayer is what makes me steady, happy and most of all, independent. Prayer is what keeps me happy and disaffected. It is what makes me regard this world as only a temporary abode; it is what makes me sensitive to people's situations and personalities and allows me to be less hasty in judgement. Most of all, it affords me a conversation with Allah, the best of friends.
Prayer has indeed been made a coolness for my eyes.
To me, Islam's greatest gift to humanity is the routine of the five daily prayers. If a human being can establish that, everything else falls into place. And as my belief from my teenage days goes, it only takes you forty days of praying incessantly to form this habit. And once you start, it is so addictive that it is difficult to step away from it. I had almost forgotten how humbling it is to face Allah, to lower your gaze, to beg Him to keep you from going astray, to praise Him, to be reminded of his numerous blessings, and most of all, to pester Him with requests, to supplicate and to ask for more than your own desires, because you know that His ability to bless supremely exceeds your capacity to dream.
Every Ramadan since I turned 11, and completed the first reading of the Qur'an on my own, I have tried to gain something new from the month. This year, although I have been unable to fast, I am trying not to gain something new, but to regain something very dear that I had lost over the course of the last year. I am trying to regain the utter joy of being Allah's servant before I am anything to anyone else. At the brink of motherhood, this is an emotion which is even more difficult to commit to, but somehow, I know that it is the only natural state of being in which I can ever be truly happy, and truly removed from caving in to the falsity of worldly tragedies.
May Allah grant me His closeness yet again.
I have only ever been Yours, and everything begins and ends with You, and is nothing but a realization of Your love for me.
Zarra sa tau dil hun, magar shokh itna,
Wohi "lan taraani" sunna chahta hun,
Yeh jannat mubarak rahay zaahidon ko,
Ke mai Aap ka saamna chahta hun.
Let me steep myself in Your love to the extent, oh Allah, that I see nothing but You in everything that I do see. That is the only existence worth striving for.
Thank You, for everything.
For the past couple of weeks, I have tried to do exactly this and I feel that it is not only us who have to be steadfast in prayer, but also that praying regularly makes us steadfast. There is a constancy in praying five times a day that almost nothing can take away from you. No matter how grave the events of the day have been, you go to sleep in peace because you know that you have a God to wake up to. There is a beauty in supplicating yourself to the Lord of "Kun Fayakun", the Allah who has always blessed you and who makes you autonomous from every human being. This is the only form of supplication, the only lowering of the ego, the only form of asking that does not denigrate human dignity, but instead increases it. It is a vent for our expectations to the one being capable of fulfilling them all, so that you stop having expectations from people. There is something strongly elevating about praying; it takes you to the above and beyond where people's remarks, their actions and their circumstances which may ordinarily have effected you or hurt you, become inconsequential. For me, prayer is what makes me steady, happy and most of all, independent. Prayer is what keeps me happy and disaffected. It is what makes me regard this world as only a temporary abode; it is what makes me sensitive to people's situations and personalities and allows me to be less hasty in judgement. Most of all, it affords me a conversation with Allah, the best of friends.
Prayer has indeed been made a coolness for my eyes.
To me, Islam's greatest gift to humanity is the routine of the five daily prayers. If a human being can establish that, everything else falls into place. And as my belief from my teenage days goes, it only takes you forty days of praying incessantly to form this habit. And once you start, it is so addictive that it is difficult to step away from it. I had almost forgotten how humbling it is to face Allah, to lower your gaze, to beg Him to keep you from going astray, to praise Him, to be reminded of his numerous blessings, and most of all, to pester Him with requests, to supplicate and to ask for more than your own desires, because you know that His ability to bless supremely exceeds your capacity to dream.
Every Ramadan since I turned 11, and completed the first reading of the Qur'an on my own, I have tried to gain something new from the month. This year, although I have been unable to fast, I am trying not to gain something new, but to regain something very dear that I had lost over the course of the last year. I am trying to regain the utter joy of being Allah's servant before I am anything to anyone else. At the brink of motherhood, this is an emotion which is even more difficult to commit to, but somehow, I know that it is the only natural state of being in which I can ever be truly happy, and truly removed from caving in to the falsity of worldly tragedies.
May Allah grant me His closeness yet again.
I have only ever been Yours, and everything begins and ends with You, and is nothing but a realization of Your love for me.
Zarra sa tau dil hun, magar shokh itna,
Wohi "lan taraani" sunna chahta hun,
Yeh jannat mubarak rahay zaahidon ko,
Ke mai Aap ka saamna chahta hun.
Let me steep myself in Your love to the extent, oh Allah, that I see nothing but You in everything that I do see. That is the only existence worth striving for.
Thank You, for everything.
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