Let us speak of a life that began on the 4th of May, 1968, in a rural, middle-class household. For months, this life crawled within the courtyard of its home. When the time came to walk, the only school available was one with mats and sacks for desks. Yet, there was one positive aspect: the family in which this life opened its eyes was deeply religious. My grandfather served as an imam and preacher at a local mosque. Every night before bed, he would narrate a story of one of the prophets (peace be upon them). Later, when I grew old enough to read small books, I came across a tale of a Dutch boy’s bravery that left a profound mark on me.
The Dutch boy was walking along a seaside dyke on a winter evening when he noticed a small hole. He reasoned that if he went to the village to alert others, the relentless water would widen the gap, flooding the fields and homes below sea level. So, he pressed his tiny hand against the hole and sat there. Night fell, and he fell asleep in that position. First, the cold stiffened his body, and then death claimed him—yet his little hand remained steadfast on the breach. At dawn, the villagers discovered their savior: a brave boy frozen in sacrifice. This became the first milestone of my journey, a memory deeper and brighter than all others.
I observed events of negation and affirmation, and for a time, everything seemed chaotic. One page of life taught resilience and determination; another taught lessons through hardship. I realized that sacrifices in the past were acts of armored, shroud-clad passion. My understanding of war was superficial. I assumed it belonged to ancient times when humans were uncivilized yet courageous. I believed modernity had no need for war, as people had grown civilized and cowardly. When I first heard of World War I, I thought, "If wars exist today, they must be in distant lands. Historians will write of our region as one of peace and tranquility." But as time passed, this illusion shattered. I learned that war is eternal, raging everywhere, always.
Then came the realization that I needed to delve deeper into self-discovery. To step beyond my comfort zone—where everything was familiar—into a realm where danger lurked at every step. In those moments, where breakdown and breakthrough blurred, I confronted myself. I understood that courage is a state of being, and sacrifice is its testimony. Courage is a chosen path; sacrifice is the act of relinquishment. When this relinquishment becomes life itself, existence becomes a *jihad*—a struggle—and death transforms into martyrdom.
Yet, some are destined to live as "living martyrs." Among them is Imam Ahmad ibn Hanbal (may Allah have mercy on him). During Caliph Mamun’s reign, he was shackled. Under Caliph Mu’tasim, he was whipped unconscious, then revived with the tip of a sword. When Caliph Wathiq rose to power, he was imprisoned in solitude. In old age, his trials were replaced by a reverence that remains fresh in hearts even after a thousand years. On Judgment Day, perhaps the foreheads marked by prostration will glow, but so too will the backs scarred by tyranny’s lashes—backs that bore the weight of centuries and generations.
Inspired by such courage, I began to see every challenge, defeat, and victory as a new test. After 18 years of education and 31 years of teaching, I grasped life’s philosophy: *each day is a fresh beginning. Urdu, Islamic studies, and the Quran deeply shaped my life. These subjects taught me truths that reshaped my thinking.
But one day, when everything felt meaningless, I wondered: "Had all I learned been merely for the world? Was any of it part of my inner transformation, or had I only achieved superficial success?" This question ignited an inner light. I told myself, *"Perhaps it is time to think anew, learn anew, and act anew." In that moment, I realized change is always painful, but that pain fuels the strength to learn and reinvent.
Swiftly, I chose a path to share my life’s truths with the world. The greatest shift was transforming personal experiences into universal lessons. I began sharing knowledge online, answering questions about the Quran, Islam, and the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ on Quora under the name Siddique Sajid. I launched a blog, "Insights of Islam by Sajid," which not only soothed my soul but also illuminated others’ lives. Soon, my name rose to the top 10, then the top 5, and now, Alhamdulillah, I rank first globally.
These experiences, these transformations, these moments—they have amplified my inner strength. I now know that after every crisis, something new is born, and every hardship offers a fresh opportunity.
In life’s deepest moments, when all seems futile, we confront our inner truth. And it is this truth that guides us to our ultimate reality.
Comments
Post a Comment