mrislam

There are three fragments which may be added in front of words in Arabic to modify the time or sequence being presented.

Fa is the modifier with the most immediate meaning, translated as “then” or even “so”. Used for immediate consequences or results, or something that happens immediately after it's preceding event.

Wa is translated as “and”, and has a medium meaning in terms of time. Used to tell something that happens after something, but lacking the urgency of fa, or the distance of sa.

Sa is used specifically with verbs, and it similarly to a preposition to push the meaning of a present tense verb to future tense. It is the most distant in terms of time, of these three modifiers.

But, there's one more modifier which is used to signify the future tense — sawfa. And it just hit me that sawfa is a fragment constructed of the above three modifiers, sa, wa, and fa.

This really makes it seem like fragments in Arabic are just arbitrary letters people used to signify a certain meaning. But isn't that all language?

Spending a couple weeks with cousins aged 6 and 9, I witnessed many interesting things; an insurmountable desire to play.

Children are factually born on the fitrah, leaning towards belief in Allah. But are children also born with such an intensely strong need for entertainment?

When my cousin was denied some computer games (and I feel an old man for using that phrase), he flipped out to legendary proportions and was on the verge of tears.

I told him I'm busy and I can't play. Then he said, “but I wanna play!”.

I wanted to yell to his face “so what. You're not the center of the world”. But I held back, and got sad instead.

Why are kids like this? Does society teach them this, that they're nothing except consumers to be entertained? What is this mentality?

If I ever have a kid, I'll let him cry for 24 hours but won't let him indulge in videogames of any kind. They ruin the mind and nullify it. (If only my parents had done the same, but alhamdulillah).

If I read him his score on a game or something, and he doesn't like it, he'll accuse me of lying before ever thinking that he could have any imperfection.

The kid runs around telling me “were you jealous when you saw me as a kid, because of how cute I was?”

Where is this narcissim from? Not parenting... Because the thing's 6. But I have to point towards the TV shows — where there's a primma donna who is the center of everything and no one else matters except as a puppet. Their importance is only to the extent of their impact on the main guy.

And in my case, his love to me is dependant on how much entertainment (ie. Good feelings) I can provide him.

A few days ago, I witnessed an argument two people had about whether a Muslim or non Muslim had more right to be invited to an Eid gathering.

The Muslim was a distant fellow who really didn't upkeep ties, but the other man was a helpful man who had been there for the whole community several times.

They argued, cited Quran, raised voices at times, called in other people, referred to books. I was called upon at one point, and found myself unable to express myself.

I just said that invite both people to be safe and not sin, and ask someone of more knowledge about who has more “right”.

They didn't cease, and facing increasing pressure I told them my independent ijtihad that on Eid a day if celebration and building brotherhood of Muslims, the Muslim should not be left bereft of the invitation. And there's no harm in inviting the Hindu, provided your intent is pure.

But I did so regretfully — who am I to make ijtihad? If the situation came up now, and we were unsure about what to do — then sure, we'll do our best from our limited knowledge.

But in debating hypotheticals, we are just laymen. We can tell that gravity pulls down anything you throw up, but only a scholar can tell us F = mg.

If they came to me again, I would ask them what problem they have. If it's a practical issue they are facing, I'll give them a hearing because I might know a relevant ayah, or the ruling of a scholar.

If hypothetical, or about a general principle, then I'll proceed with wariness. If I know a relevant evidence and ruling, I'll tell them. If not, I won't start throwing out immature ideas from my limited knowledge — I'll tell them to go ask someone of knowledge.

Because if they really cared about their Deen, they would take that trouble.

The sky is an oppressively grim, pitch black. Hulking buildings which make up the skyline block it for the most part, but it's ever- reaching heaviness never ceased.

The road we ride on feels that weight. Searing bright headlights try to show the way for all to trod — but their attempt feels laughable compared to the dark reality. Still without them we would be lost.

Having taken on a long list of journal articles to read over the summer, the first few I have waded through make me question the effectiveness of this target.

One article I read promised to answer a very interesting question, and the PDF page-count said I was in for a 20-page ride. I buckled up, and read, read, and read...

...And I was utterly disappointed. The paper seemed promising from the introduction, and that it would be elucidating — but the rest of the paper till the conclusion was just dancing around the subject. I recall three paragraphs through the body of the paper that were useful, and I saved for reference, but the rest was utterly boring fluff which gives papers the reputation they have.

I have learned first-hand the value of reading the introduction and conclusion only.

i find articles much better sources of information and more jam-packed of useful knowledge. A marriage between the rigority of journals and the efficiency of articles is the sweet-spot only the best of writers can hit.

I aim to build frameworks for writers, to aid them to find this sweet-spot. ie. paragraph frameworks, and articles structural outlines

thanks (typed by my baby cousin, from dictation)

Being back in my “home” country, we pass by old places we know. Riding by our old house, I was in the car listening to a lecture podcast from Shaykh Omar Suleiman, when my Mom started strongly telling me and my brother (who was also on his phone) to look up.

I complied, and she was telling us, Oh, we used to live in that house! And that's the road! It feels like we're back here again!

I really didn't feel any of the sentiment she was feeling. It's a house. And bearing on hope fleeting this life is, the four years we spent there are worth nothing.

But the way my mom was freaking out... We existed before we came to this world, and or true home is the Garden. We are physically of this world, but our true essence is ethereal.

We are travellers passing by something insignificant in the big picture. We take off it what is beneficial, and we leave all that is unnecessary (which is most of it).

So having such a bond to a place that does not matter saddened me. May Allah most high prevent us from being deluded by this world.

When your on a car at 🌃 , ignoring the rest of the world. The whole world is a blur, and you drive in spite of your drowsiness, motivated solely by your destination.

You see other cars — but they are in their own dimension, completely separate from yours. You mean nothing to them, and they nothing to you. Just driving past another hulking metal machine.

The rest of the world to be ignored is exactly that — this world, and also it's people. They are in an endless stupor of futility. Joining them means your doom as well.

The blur reflects the brevity of this world, and the tiredness our struggle in this world. But it's the sweetness of the destination that pulls us through this world and into the next.

The proportion to which one rejects this world converts his certainty of the spoilt nature of this world and the ultimate reality of the next. And indulgence in this world reveals the exact opposite in one.

Once, in the middle of a trip, I spent a long time in the bathroom. At one point, my dad game to the door and started asking, “Are you okay? Do you need any help?”

My first reaction was annoyance, I don't like talking from the bathroom.

Next, I was thinking how I'm not taking that long; not much more than usual at all!

I was also mad at how he thought I still need help in the bathroom. Ughhh.

All that was my most natural reaction as a teenager, and although listed separately, all three thoughts hit at the same time — making it difficult to uphold any good behaviour.

But, the order listed is the order I had refuted each thought;

My dad has a right to talk to my wherever and whenever I am.

Even if I am not taking much more time than usual, or ever need help in the bathroom — the guy only meant well and was checking in. You'll always be his little kid to him. (And he may have been politely telling you to hurry up too).

By doing this in the next few split-second, I was able to reply to him concisely and normally; and when I came out I was smiling.

___

There's a natural inner feeling as a teenager to take anything in a negative light.

But we must all take the risk of interpreting each and everything as well intended — and if that's ever impossible, then accept that there's a misunderstanding.

Waking up feeling angry, at the person who had promised to wake me up for Fajr. Recalling her pitifully weak call at 4 am, how could they feel they had some their job?

Also comes to mind the alarm situation. Sleeping next to my dad, he told me to turn off my alarm when it rang for the second time during Fajr. My plan was to snooze several times and finally wean myself out of sleep — but a burly man telling me to turn off my alarm meant my sleepy self was more than happy to oblige.

I had made du'a. I had given up hope of doing tahajjud, because when I tried that yesterday, I slept ten minutes before Fajr and failed to wake up afterwards... My sleepy self was convinced that it could follow the sunnah of sleeping till Fajr by taking that nap.

My mother had also told me to not pray tahajjud, and instead try to just not miss the fard which is Fajr. She'll come with more advice now, laughing slightly at how I couldn't get up for Fajr today also.

My throat is dry, my stomach is upset, and I am on the verge of flipping out at how I am failing the basic duty given to me by Allah most high.

My sleep cycle is still so messed up. Sleeping at 2.30 am and sleeping through 12 noon. Allah most high almost bought me out of that cycle once, but I regressed back out of sheer laziness.

I am extra mad because I wrong no one but myself when I sin. I am in need of Allah ta'ala, utterly and completely... Yet I miss 20% of the appointments he has set for me with Him.

O Allah, most loving and caring, please forgive this slave who wins himself ceaselessly. Please aid this servant of Yours to submit to the ultimate reality — that everything in this world is corrupt and worthless, that this world is itself more fleeting than the squirrel who is across the street in the blink of an eye — please O Allah, don't let this world delude me, and please turn every ounce of anger in my soul into determinedly repenting microcosms.

Please guide me. Please make me one of those who excess in doing good. Truly, when they err, they seek forgiveness and cease the sin. O Allah how many of us fail on the first part. It's a station so simple, yet so far... Please aid us all to reach it!

Please aid me to remember you constantly O Master. Any gratefulness, fear, or love with manifest as a never-ending remembrance of You, My Master. Yet I have none of those three as I constantly forget You — what a sad statement!

Please aid me to remember you O Allah, more than a lover remembers his beloved, more than a criminal remembers the law, more than a poor man remembers his donor.

Please forgive me, I do not need to rhyme or make du'a flowery — yet I have so much to ask that if I do not put it in words, I am a mess O Allah.

There is no truer statement — “I am a mess”. Please fix me O Master, and aid me to put my best effort as well.