👨‍🦰: because its Allah’s command.

🧑: and where is the logic behind it?

….

🧑: why should’nt I do this?

👨‍🦰: because allah said it’s haraam.

🧑: are there any scientific harms of doing it?

….

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This conversation feels familiar, right? Because it’s us, The Modern Muslim Mindset!

Almost every time we are told to do something or stay away from something in Islam, our very first reaction is to look for logical proofs, scientific harms, or medical benefits. We want to know the "WHY" behind everything. We’re taught today that thinking logically helps you do things with more focus, instead of just blindly following rules.

And on the surface, that sounds fair. Knowing the practical benefits or harms of an action gives us a sense of immediate satisfaction.

But have we taken our obsession with scientific proof and logic so far that we are missing the main purpose: simple, sincere and immediate obedience to Allah?

When we are told to drink water while sitting, we ask WHY?, we research the digestive benefits on what it does to our body, and then we follow the Sunnah once we are intellectually satisfied. When we are told not to pluck our eyebrows, we look for or physical and logical reasons, and when we feel satisfied that “oh yeah, this is actually good for me,” then we follow it.

But have you ever think that,

What happens when a command goes beyond your current understanding, or when no scientific proof exists for it?

• Will you still fulfill it?

• Will you perform it with the same humility (khushoo) and yaqeen?

• Will you obey simply because Allah commanded it, even if you don’t understand it?

You hesitate, right? Because by then, a pattern has formed in your mind:

and when that middle part is missing, your mind gets confused because it’s not used to just obeying.

And that’s scary. At this point, you’ve started measuring Islamic rules on the scale of your own intelligence. You’re measuring how beneficial or harmful something is for you before deciding to follow it.

Believe me, Over time this can slowly affect the way we approach our faith. Your intention doesn't remain purely about obeying Allah. Even if you try to convince yourself that you’re doing it for Allah, in your subconscious, your intentions get mixed up. That purity and deep focus just isn't there anymore.

And this is one of the biggest differences between us and the Sahabah. When they were given a command, their immediate response was:

سَمِعْنَا وَأَطَعْنَا

“We hear and we obey.”

• Our modern formula, however, has an added condition:

سَمِعْنَا، وَفَكَّرْنَا، ثُمَّ أَطَعْنَا

“We hear, we analyze/think, and then we obey.”

And that extra step is exactly where our imaan starts getting weak.

To be clear, questioning is not inherently wrong, Islam does not ask us to switch off our minds. Tafakkur (reflection) and seeking knowledge are honored in our deen. it depends on what you are asking, and when you are asking.

When presented with a religious instruction, the first question should always be: “Where is the proof (Daleel)? Who reported this, and is it authentic?”

This was the way of the Salaf. They were deeply cautious about verifying narrations to protect the religion from innovation (bid’ah). But once they knew it was authentic, they acted on it right away. They did not wait for a scientific proof to justify it.

So the order matters. First you verify the command is authentic. Then you obey. Reflection comes after, to deepen what you already believe, not before, as a condition for whether you’ll believe it at all.

We actually have a beautiful example of this in Ibrahim (AS). He asked Allah how He gives life to the dead. Allah asked him back, “Do you not believe?” And Ibrahim (AS) said, of course he believed, he wasn’t asking because he had doubts. He was asking for itminaan-e-qalb, the peace of his heart. His imaan was already firm. That’s the difference: his belief didn’t rely on the answer. The understanding was just a bonus.

Logic and scientific proof can be a nice bonus, but they are secondary.

Your very first priority should be: "Allah said it, so I have to do it, whether I understand it or not."

they should just be an additional boost to your imaan, not the main thing your faith relies on. they are amazing tools to appreciate how beautiful Islam is, but they make terrible foundations for your imaan.

Think again: if your faith depends on scientific validation, what happens when science changes its mind? What happens when human logic falls short? Your imaan will stumble every single time.

But when your imaan is built on Itaa’at, pure obedience to the Creator, your heart stays steady. It doesn’t matter if the rest of the world gets it or not.

Because true obedience is doing what He asked the moment He asked it, without thinking twice.

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If it felt familiar, sit with it gently,

until next time,

Hania Rehan

There was once a woman whose husband made a weird decision. He told her, “If you are not prettier than the moon, you are divorced!”

And this wasn’t a joke; he was completely serious!

Let me start from the beginning,

During the time of Abu Ja’far al-Mansur, there was a nobleman named Isa ibn Musa, One night, while sitting with her under the moonlight, he said in all seriousness, “If you are not more beautiful than the moon, then you are divorced.”

When his wife heard this, she immediately separated herself from him, believing that the divorce had taken effect because she thought,

No human being could be more beautiful than the moon.

Because this was such an unusual matter, the case was brought before the caliph. The caliph gathered many scholars to discuss whether the divorce had actually taken place or not. Most of them ruled that the divorce was indeed valid.

But Why?

Because they reasoned that the moon is naturally more beautiful than any human being. So, they finally agreed on the decision that she was to be divorced.

But, Here is the Twist:

One scholar (may Allah bless him) came up with a very unique reflection that completely flipped the perception that the moon is more beautiful than us.

And It wasn’t just his own opinion; it was based on an ayah Allah (SWT) mentioned in Surah At-Tin (95:4):

لَقَدْ خَلَقْنَا الْإِنسَانَ فِي أَحْسَنِ تَقْوِيمٍ

“Indeed, We created the human being in the best form.”

He argued: Allah Himself says that human beings were created in the best form. Therefore, a human can indeed be considered more beautiful than the moon!

Everyone was amazed by this realization. It was an ayah they recited regularly, but they had never thought it could hold such a deep and divine meaning.

So, in the end, the final ruling was that the husband and wife would remain married, because it was proven by the Quran that his wife was, of course, prettier than the moon!

Now, I’m not here to debate whether the moon is beautiful or not, ( because the moon is beautiful, isn’t it? :) We see the moon used as an example everywhere beauty is mentioned.

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We usually resonate beauty with the moon because to us, it represents complete visual beauty, just look at the poets and their obsession with it!

The reason I am sharing this incident is to help us find the beauty within ourselves, because He said He made us in the best of forms.

And Allah did not only say that He created us in the best form; rather, He first swore an oath by the fig, the olive, Mount Sinai, and the sacred city before making this statement.

• The fig and the olive are often linked to the blessed lands where many prophets lived, especially the region of Jerusalem and its surroundings.

• Mount Sinai (Tur Sinin) is where Prophet Musa (peace be upon him) received revelation from Allah.

• The secure city (Makkah) is the birthplace of Islam and the final revelation.

This oath is meant to highlight a powerful message: from these blessed places of guidance, Allah reminds humanity that He created them in the best form.

Now let’s glance at the word aḥsan (أَحْسَنِ). It means:

• The highest level of goodness or beauty.

• The most perfect / most excellent form.

• Something that is superior in quality, appearance, or moral value.

In Arabic usage, it is a comparative and superlative form,

like “better” and “best” in English. It doesn’t only refer to physical beauty; it includes:

• Physical form

• Character

• Moral excellence

• Overall perfection

So linguistically, aḥsan means the highest level of beauty, goodness, and perfection something can possibly reach!

Are you now realizing how much beauty you hold inside you? How beautiful you truly are?

We are often taught to look at the beauty around us to know Allah (SWT) better, but what about looking at ourselves? The ones Allah called the best of creatures?

In an era where the world is highly conscious of looks, we spend thousands of rupees just to buy makeup products, whitening creams and beauty enhancers,

I think one of the greatest forms of ingratitude among us is saying, "I am not very beautiful." This modern age makes you think, "If I don't get that keratin treatment, my hair will look super ugly," or, "If I don't get a facial or put on makeup, everyone will mock me."

We are constantly comparing ourselves to others, thinking, "Look at that person, they are so beautiful, and look at me, I am not."

We are so caught up in this race of beauty versus ugliness that we forget beauty is not just about our physical appearance.

When Allah (SWT) said that He created us in the best form, it doesn’t only mean He made our faces and bodies pretty. It has a deeper meaning: it includes our hearts, too.

Have you ever seen a newborn baby? They feel so soft, delicate, and beautiful when they are born. As they start growing up, they are still adorable because the hearts of children are innocent, and therefore, beautiful!

But as soon as you gain conscious control of your life and choose your path (either toward Allah or away from Him), your heart evolves.It either becomes more beautiful, or it becomes ugly.

When your heart is pure and beautiful, you automatically reflect that beauty on your face, a noor from Allah (SWT).

But when your heart starts getting black spots from sins and grows uglier, your face reflects that too, no matter how much makeup or how many filters you use. It will still feel ugly to Allah (SWT).

As the Prophet ﷺ said in a hadith:

“Indeed, Allah does not look at your bodies nor your appearances, but He looks at your hearts and your deeds.” Sahih Muslim (Hadith 2564)

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And right after that, Allah (SWT) mentions another verse that we cannot ignore. He says:

ثُمَّ رَدَدْنَاهُ أَسْفَلَ سَافِلِينَ

“Then We return him to the lowest of the low.”

Just imagine: the first ayah is about the incredibly high status humans hold, and in the very next ayah, Allah says He will return us to the lowest of the low!

If someone is given such a high rank, honor, and the "best" title,

They will obviously face a severe punishment if they misuse that status.

If you misuse your physical beauty, or if you allow your heart to become ugly, then you will face the consequences, falling from the highest status to the lowest.

Allah has granted human beings special care, not only in their physical design but also in their mental and spiritual abilities. He created mankind with a balanced and complex nature that allows us to rise to the highest levels of honor and closeness to Allah. In fact, through faith and righteousness, a human can even reach a rank higher than the angels, as shown by the spiritual elevation of the Prophet ﷺ during the Mi’raj.

However, the exact same human being also has the potential to fall to the lowest possible state. This happens when they turn away from faith and reject the guidance of Allah. In such a condition, a person can become worse than animals,

because animals at least follow their natural instincts and fulfill their worldly purpose, while a human abandons their own higher purpose.

• “We have created man in the finest form.” (Verse 4) This is a reference to our potential, nature, and abilities.

• “Then We brought him down to the lowest of the low.” (Verse 5) This happens when a person forces their nature away from the path Allah has defined for them.

The decision is yours: whether to be among the highest in Jannah, or the lowest in Jahannum. You have to choose between the two, and you must be wise.

So, dear reader, what are you thinking now? Do you still think you are not beautiful enough? Will you still stare at yourself in the mirror for hours wondering how to look better or how to hide those spots? Will you still say that the moon is prettier than you? Will you still judge beauty by appearance alone?

Or...

Have you finally realized that no other creature on this planet is prettier than you? Have you finally realized that Allah (SWT) loves you enough to call you His best creation?

The next time you look in the mirror, will you pray:

اللَّهُمَّ كَمَا حَسَّنتَ خَلْقِي فَحَسِّنْ خُلُقِي

“O Allah, just as You have made my outward appearance beautiful, so make my character beautiful as well.”

Will you try to erase those black spots from your heart through repentance to make it even more beautiful?

And knowing this, how will you handle this honor?

Will you let this realization feed your pride and lead you to arrogance over others?

Or will it humble you, knowing that this beauty is a gift and a responsibility given by your Creator?

If it felt familiar, sit with it gently,

Until next time,

Hania Rehan

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کیا واقعی پتے اتنے کمزور ہوتے ہیں کہ ہوا کے ایک جھونکے سے ٹوٹ کر بکھر جاتے ہیں؟

کیا واقعی وہ ذرا سی تیز ہوا بھی برداشت نہیں کر پاتے؟ اور پھر ان کا مقدر پیروں تلے روند دیا جانا ہوتا ہے؟

کیا واقعی؟

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نہیں… ایسی بات نہیں ہے۔ ذرا غور کرو

کیا تمہیں بھی ایسا ہی لگتا ہے؟

کیا کبھی تم نے ان پتوں کے بارے میں سوچا ہے؟

خزاں رسیدہ پتے جب ہوا کے ایک جھونکے سے تمہاری جھولی میں آ گرتے ہیں، تو تم مثال دیتے ہو "دیکھو، ایسا ہرگز نہ بننا… اتنے کمزور نہ بننا کہ ذرا سے جھونکے سے ٹوٹ جاؤ۔"

آخر کیوں؟

دیکھنے والی آنکھ نے تو بس اس پتے کے ٹوٹنے کا منظر دیکھا ہے…

اس کے صبر کا گواہ کون ہے؟

اس کی برداشت کا گواہ کون ہے؟

کیا تم موجود تھے ان سخت، بے رحم ہواؤں میں جب درخت لرز اٹھتا تھا اور یہی پتّے ڈٹ کر جمے رہتے ہیں؟

کیا تم نے دیکھی وہ تپتی دوپہر جب سورج آگ بن کر برستا تھا اور یہی پتے خاموشی سے سہتے تھے؟

کیا تم نے دیکھا جب پرندوں کا مسکن بنتے تھے یہ پتے؟ ان کی محبت… ان کی پناہ؟

کیا تم وہاں تھے جب آسمان سے گرتی برف انہیں ڈھانپ لیتی تھی؟

نہیں…

تم موجود نہیں تھے۔ اگر ہوتے، تو یوں نہ کہتے۔

کیا تم نے کبھی سنا ان کی برداشت کے قصے؟ یا سن کر بھی ان سنا کر دیا؟ یا انہیں اس قابل ہی نہ سمجھا کہ یاد رکھا جائے؟

لیکن… ان کا گرنا تمہیں یاد رہ گیا۔ اسی کو تم نے مثال بنا لیا۔

ایسا کیوں؟

میں سوچتی ہوں…

کچھ انسان بھی انہی پتوں جیسے ہوتے ہیں۔

وہ ہر غم، ہر اذیت، ہر تکلیف یوں سہتے ہیں جیسے پتے موسموں کو۔

پھر آہستہ آہستہ وه کمزور پڑتے جاتے ہیں… ان کی برداشت جواب دینے لگتی ہے۔

آخر کوئی کب تک سہتا ہے؟

کبھی نہ کبھی تو ٹوٹے گا ہی نا۔

اور پھر ایک وقت آتا ہے جب وہ بکھر جاتے ہیں…

لوگ کہتے ہیں "اتنا سا غم بھی نہ سہ سکے!"

اور انہیں کمزور سمجھ لیا جاتا ہے۔

لیکن… وہ تو برسوں سے سہتے آ رہے تھے۔

انہوں نے شکایت نہیں کی، تو ان کی برداشت کو نظر انداز کر دیا گیا۔

آخر کیوں؟

کیا تم نے دیکھا ہے جب ایک برتن میں قطرہ قطرہ پانی ڈالا جائے…

کبھی زیادہ، کبھی کم…

وہ بھرتا جاتا ہے… یہاں تک کہ لبریز ہو جاتا ہے۔

اور پھر— اگر اس میں ایک قطرہ اور ڈال دو… تو وہ چھلک پڑتا ہے۔

!!!صرف ایک قطرہ

چاہے وہ ہلکی سی ہوا ہو، چاہے وہ ایک قطرہ ہو، یا ایک چھوٹی سی تکلیف…

پھر چاہے انسان ہو، پانی ہو، یا پتے

سب ٹوٹ جاتے ہیں، چھلک پڑتے ہیں، اور بکھر جاتے ہیں۔

KYA WAQAI?

Kya waqai pattey itnay kamzor hotey hain ke hawa ke ek jhonke se toot kar bikhar jaate hain?

Kya waqai woh thori si tez hawa bhi bardasht nahi kar paate? Aur phir unka muqaddar pairo tale rond diya jana hota hai?

Kya waqai?

Nahi… aisi baat nahi hai. Thora socho.

Kya tumhe bhi aisa hi lagta hai?

Kya kabhi tumne un patton ke baare mein socha hai?

Khizaan raseedah pattey jab hawa ke ek jhonke se tumhari jholi mein aa girtay hain, toh tum misaal dete ho: “Dekho, aisa harghiz na banna… itne kamzor na banna ke halkey say jhonke se toot jao.”

Aakhir kyun?

Dekhne wali aankh nay to bas us patte ke tootne ka manzar dekha hai…

Us kay sabr ka gawah kaun hai?

Us ki bardasht ka gawah kaun hai?

Kya tum wahan the un sakht, be-rehem hawaon mein jab darakht laraz uthta tha aur yehi patte phir bhi datt kar jamey rehtey they?

Kya tumne dekhi woh tapti dopeher jab sooraj aag ban kar barasta tha aur yehi patte khamoshi se sehtay rahay?

Kya tumne dekha jab parindon ka maskan thay ye pattey? Unki mohabbat… unki panah?

Kya tum wahan the jab aasman se girti baraf unhe dhanp leti thi?

Nahi…

Tum wahan nahi thay. Agar hotey, to yun na kehtey.

Kya tumne kabhi sunay unki bardasht ke qisse? Ya sun kar bhi ansuna kara? Ya unhe is qabil hi na samjha ke yaad rakha jaaye?

Lekin… unka girna tumhe yaad reh gaya. uski to tumne misaal bhi di.

Aisa kyun?

Main sochti hoon…

Kuch insaan bhi inhi patton jaise hote hain.

Woh har gham, har aziyat, har takleef yun sehte hain jaise patte mausamon ko.

Phir aahista aahista woh kamzor parte jaate hain… unki bardasht jawab dene lagti hai.

Aakhir koi kab tak seh sakta hai?

Kabhi na kabhi to tootega hi na.

Aur phir ek waqt aata hai jab woh bikhar jaate hain…

Log kehte hain: “Itna sa gham bhi na seh sake!”

Aur unhe kamzor samajh liya jaata hai.

Lekin… woh to barson se seh rahe they na.

Unhone shikayat nahi ki, to unki bardasht ko nazar andaz kar diya gaya.

Aakhir kyun?

Kya tumne dekha hai jab ek bartan mein qatra qatra paani dala jaaye…

Kabhi zyada, kabhi kam…

Woh bharta jaata hai… yahan tak ke labrez ho jaata hai.

Aur phir…. agar usme bas ek qatra bhi aur daal do… to woh chhalak parta hai.

Sirf ek qatra!!

Chahe woh halki si hawa ho, chahe woh ek qatra ho, ya ek chhoti si takleef…

Phir chahe insaan ho, paani ho, ya pattey

Sab toot jaate hain, chhalak padte hain, aur bikhar jaate hain.

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Is It Really So?

Are leaves really so fragile that a gust of wind can break them apart?

Do they really not endure even a little strong wind? And is it their fate to be trampled underfoot?

Really?

No… that’s not the truth. Think for a moment.

Do you feel the same?

Have you ever thought about those leaves?

When autumn leaves fall into your lap with just one gust of wind, you say, “See, don’t be like that… don’t be so weak that you break from a little wind.”

But why?

The eye that watches only sees the leaf breaking…

Who bears witness to its patience?

Who sees its endurance?

Were you there in the harsh, merciless winds when the tree trembled, and yet these leaves held on?

Did you see those scorching afternoons when the sun poured down like fire, and these leaves silently endured?

Did you see them when they became homes for birds? Their love… their shelter?

Were you there when snow fell from the sky and covered them?

No…

You were not there. If you had been, you would not have spoken like that.

Have you ever heard the stories of their endurance?

Or even if you heard, did you ignore them? Or did you never even consider them worthy of being remembered?

Yet… you remember only when they fall. That’s the part you used as a lesson!

Why?

I wonder…

Some people are just like those leaves.

They silently endure every sorrow, every suffering, every hardship, just like leaves endure the seasons.

Then, gradually, they weaken… their endurance reaches its limit.

After all, how long can anyone bear it?

Eventually, they will break.

And then comes a moment when they fall apart…

People say, “They couldn’t even handle that small sorrow!”

And they are seen as weak.

But… they had been enduring for years.

They did not complain, so their endurance was overlooked.

Why?

Have you ever noticed when water is poured into a vessel drop by drop…

Sometimes more, sometimes less…

It fills… until it overflows.

And then, if you add just one more drop… it spills.

Just one drop!!

Whether it’s a light breeze, a single drop, or a small pain…

Whether it’s a person, water, or leaves,

Everything breaks, overflows, and falls apart.

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If it felt familiar sit with it,

Until next time,

Hania Rehan

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These are some of the questions and comments that I have always been asked or told as an Islamic studies student.

I had been thinking about this for a long time, and today I finally decided to write about it, because I believe many of you may have experienced the same if you are studying Islamic studies or attending a madrasa.

Whenever someone asked me what I was studying and I replied that I was doing the Aalimah course, the first expression on some people’s faces made it seem as if I were doing something very strange, as if I were an alien.

The younger version of me would never have written about this and would have felt a bit self-conscious. But now I proudly say that yes, I am learning Islamic education along with worldly education.

I think I should start from the beginning. All of this started with an Umrah trip. I was in grade 5 and 10 years old when we went for Umrah. My mother really admired the girls there who wore hijab and were memorizing the Qur’an. She wished that one of her children would also do hifz. My father had a friend whose daughter was a little younger than me and was already doing hifz at that time, while I was still a school student.

One day, while sitting in Masjid al-Haram, my mother said, “ I want you all to seek Islamic education.” She texted that aunt to ask how her daughter was doing hifz, where she was studying, what her routine was like, and other details. After getting enough information, she discussed everything with my father. And honestly, I was also very excited. I wanted to seek Islamic education. I wanted to be like the mu’allimaat teaching there, and like the girls my age memorizing hadith and Qur’an. Perhaps the environment there also had an effect on us, and we all decided to do this.

When we came back, I didn’t expect my parents to become so serious about it. I was a good student in my class, a position holder, active in extracurricular activities, and someone with many friends.

At that time, I had even prayed to get my classroom on the third floor, on the rooftop, and to get a particular teacher whose name I now forget because I liked her so much. And yes, I got both. So the idea of leaving school was not good for me at all.

But as they say, what is written in destiny happens. Sometimes I think that if my parents had not made that decision at that time, my life would have been completely different, very ordinary. But Allah had planned something else for me.

I LEFT SCHOOL IN THE MIDDLE OF THE SESSION, yes! Despite my reluctance, because I was hesitant to join a madrasah and leave my friends.

After a lot of thinking, my parents decided to homeschool me and my sister. My father, despite his job, and my mother, while managing her responsibilities and taking care of my younger siblings, decided to teach us themselves. To make it short, I’ll just summarize: they also looked for some tutors but were not satisfied, so my father bought courses and decided to teach us himself.

I still remember he named our school he also gave us report cards and certificate the whole school vibe!

And then Baba heard that an institute had launched the Aalimah course for girls for the first time. So my parents decided to get me and my sister admitted there so that we could pursue Islamic knowledge. They gathered all the information and completed our admission.

Just imagine a 12-year-old girl sitting among women in their twenties and thirties. There was no girl my age there except my younger sister, who was 9 at that time. I didn’t have any friends there, and I was the quietest girl in the class. I didn’t even talk to my classmates, who felt more like aunties to me. I had a little difficulty understanding everything, or perhaps I should say that I couldn’t fully process it.

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The teachers paid extra attention to both of us because we were the youngest in the class. The interesting thing was that it was the first batch, and the course duration was six years, so it was going to be a long journey for me.

I still remember that I didn’t want to go there. I wanted to continue school. I missed my friends. I wanted to study so that I could become something, ( I wanted to be a scientist, lol ) Maybe it was also a kind of FOMO because all of my cousins were studying in school, and we were the first ones to join a madrasa.

I think one of the biggest reasons for this complex and FOMO was that in our society a madrasa is often considered something very strange. If someone studies there, they are not given much importance. It wasn’t because of any single person; rather, it was a mindset that many people already had. Because of this, whenever someone asked me about my studies at that time, I never called it a madrasa, I used to call it an institute.

My homeschooling continued alongside this, and as expected, I did not get a good result in the first year. It was really heartbreaking for someone who used to hold positions in her class, because it was very difficult for me to switch from English, Maths, and Science to Nahw, Sarf, Aqeedah, and Arabic.

But with time, I eventually accepted it, because it was necessary. Gradually, things started to make sense to me, especially because the teachers, may Allah bless them, were so kind.

I made my first friend there. She was almost double my age, or maybe a little less, and she is still my friend. I slowly started participating in class, but I was very shy. They even used to say that I was there just to smile with them and that I never said anything.

( And now those same people are surprised when they think about how I was back then😅, I think I have changed a lot )

Despite all of this, I still had that FOMO inside me and a sense of self-complexity because of the comments and questions people would ask. My mind was not mature enough at that time to realize that I was someone Allah had chosen for His knowledge. My teacher used to tell us a hadith that when Allah intends goodness for someone, He grants them understanding of the religion. But I was not wise enough then to understand this mercy upon me.

I remember one day I was playing with my friends, and their mother was talking to a neighbor. She knew that I went to a madrasa, so she changed the topic to education and said, “Look, what my daughters know, how could she possibly know that?” That comment stayed with me for a very long time. I can still picture the entire scene and remember her exact words. I told my mother about it, and she encouraged me, but I kept thinking about it and my self-complexity increased.

Now when I think about it, I feel that perhaps she was right, I don’t know what her daughters know. But I am proud that Allah had placed me under His protection from that time. Allah had already intended goodness for me. Don’t you think that was His love for me?

And the questions I used to hear again and again were: “What are you studying? Don’t you go to school? How much longer is left? When will you pursue worldly education? How will you get admission to college?” and many more.

Even my cousins and friends sometimes made me feel lesser by talking about their matric subjects, what they planned to choose in college, and other things like that.

Despite those who criticized, there were also people who truly motivated us. Some even felt inspired by our journey and appreciated my parents for their decision.

Because I think it was not an easy decision for them to make at that time. It was something no one in our family had ever done before. People used to tell them, “You are not doing the right thing. You should have let them complete school first and then admitted them to an institute,” and many other things like that. But my parents remained firm. They did not listen to anyone, because Allah wanted things to happen in that way. He tests the ones He loves, and it was their test, and it was also our test.

Slowly, time passed, and I completed the six years of my Aalimah course. Every year holds a different place in my heart. Some years were not very good, some were very exhausting, and some were incredibly beautiful. I made many friends, and truly,

Friends in deen are friends indeed!

I cannot even describe how ethereal my whole journey was until the very last day at the institute. I just could not believe that I had made it!!! Despite my unwillingness at the beginning and everything I went through, I finally made it. And I am so grateful to Allah that I did not quit this journey halfway. With Allah’s help, I completed it. Did I mention that my sister and I became the highest scorers in the class, hehe😅!

The advice from the teachers, their duas, their lectures, everything feels so close to my heart. And something very beautiful happened recently. A friend of mine who was two years junior to me texted me a few days ago and said that our Sheikh was talking about me and my sister. I was like, “Seriouslyyyy?😭 What was he saying?” She told me that he was remembering us and saying that we were really good students, and that we were very young when we joined. He was even making dua for us!

Wallah, I had tears in my eyes!!! Isn’t it so beautiful when your teacher remembers you with such kind words? It was truly a moment of pride for me!

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This was my journey, the whole journey. I am still learning, and I am still a student of deen, I am also a teacher now. I teach as well, because I believe that if Allah has chosen you for His knowledge, you should guide others too.

After completing that course, I started another one, the advanced level. And guess what? This time it was not my parents’ decision. It was my own decision and my sister’s as well.

Alongside that, I completed my bachelor’s degree and also took some additional courses in psychology. So whenever someone asks me about my studies now, I actually have a long list of what I am learning, because it is not just one thing that I am doing anymore, lol!

You know, one thing that really bothers me is the way people treat those who pursue Islamic knowledge. Sometimes they literally humiliate them. And I am not saying this without reason, after reading this long essay, you probably understand that I have experienced it myself. I am often surprised that in our Islamic society, something so valuable is considered so underrated that students begin to develop self-complexes, even though it should be a matter of pride.

It is something to be proud of that Allah has chosen you. It is something to be proud of that your child, in this age of trials where so many young people are involved in harmful things, is protected from them. You should feel proud that Allah has chosen you and placed you under His protection, because He does not want you to fall into the traps of Shaytan.

In the era of the Sahabah and the Tabi’een, people desired to seek Islamic knowledge. They wanted to understand the religion better, to understand Aqeedah, to gain mastery in Arabic, and to study Tafseer. In fact, in those times these subjects were taught in institutions similar to universities, and students attended them with great pride. They proudly spoke about their pursuit of this knowledge.

This is very different from our society today, where instead of giving respect to such people, they are often made to feel inferior. They are sometimes pushed into thinking that what they are doing may be wrong.

In our society, we have two extremes. One group does not consider this path valuable at all and only runs after worldly education. The other group believes that one should only go to a madrasa and only pursue this knowledge, as if learning other fields is wrong. But both approaches are incorrect. The Prophet (peace be upon him) taught us moderation in everything, so when we go against that balance, there will naturally be harm.

Only sticking to one thing is not good. You should learn skills and other fields of knowledge as well, so that you can give da’wah more effectively and communicate with people better.

And lastly, if you are also a student of Islamic education who struggles with what people might say, or struggles with FOMO, or feels bothered by questions and comments, remember one thing:

You are someone Allah chose. You are not ordinary, you are an extraordinary soul in an ordinary world!

Out of billions of people in this world, Allah selected you to learn about Him, to understand His words, and to carry this knowledge forward. What could be a greater honor than that?

He wants you to know Him deeply. He wants the angels to lower their wings for you if you are a student of knowledge.

The Prophet ﷺ said: The angels lower their wings for the seeker of knowledge, pleased with what he is doing.

And He wants every creature to send blessings upon you if you are teaching this knowledge,

The Prophet ﷺ said: “Indeed Allah, His angels, the inhabitants of the heavens and the earth, even the ant in its hole and the fish in the sea, send blessings upon the one who teaches people goodness.”

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If this feels familiar, Sit with it gently.

Until next time,

Hania Rehan

I ordered food, and it’s not delivered yet… ugh.

I asked a question, and he didn’t answer yet!!!

I can’t wait anymore… give it to me right nowwww.

I’m done!!!!

It’s over… just get lost. I don’t wanna talk to you. You replied to me after 10 MINUTES!

do you know how much that is???

Why isn’t this page loading… refresh it now… it’s stressful!!

Lemme check the internet device, maybe it’s not working… ughhhh.

Waiting for the page to load!!

Open the door please, I’ve been standing here for about 5 mins… come on!!! Where are youuu??

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WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT AHHHH!!!

Does it sound familiar? Yeah, right?

It happens with all of us… especially our generation!

But why? What’s the reason behind it? Why can’t we wait for even 10 or 15 minutes? Why does it feel like a whole decade of waiting?

“Waiting for something” we are all so scared of it. For us, it’s stressful, almost like anxiety.

We are living in a time where everything is just one click away. Technology has made things so easy for us.

Tap a button and you’ll get everything. High-speed internet and on-demand services have conditioned our brains to expect instant results. A 2-second web load time is acceptable, but 10 seconds causes 50% of people to abandon the content.

And have you noticed something else?

This huge amount of SHORT COURSES offered everywhere?

Universities. Institutes. Online platforms. Everywhere it’s like:

“Become certified in 7 days!”

“Complete this course in 2 weeks!”

“Get your degree fast fast fast!”

And we’re like 👀

“Ooo nice… quick… perfect.”

But the moment someone says:

“This course will take 4 years.”

We’re like:

OH NOOO! Too long! Next please!!

We literally ask:

“How much time will it take to complete tafseer?”

“How long is the psychology degree?”

“Four years?? Nahhh that’s too much.”

Too much… for learning??? Really!

Since when did gaining knowledge become a race?

We don’t want understanding anymore.

We just want the certificate.

The degree.

Instant result.

But how can someone learn the tafseer of the whole Qur’an in one month?

How??

Some things are meant to be slow..

And you definitely can’t rush understanding the Qur’an.

So our brains are trained… or maybe just fed up… that everything is instant, and you don’t have to wait to get something.

That’s why our brain starts panicking when something is taking a bit too long.

(not gonna mention my anxiety level when I opened Substack and it took literally 15 minutes to load 😭)

We start shouting, rushing here and there, reloading pages, switching between tabs, doing everything just to end that scary thing called WAITING!

Even when we pray to Allah (SWT) for something, we want the results at that moment. We’re like:

“O Allah, give this now, please please please, I want it right now pleaseeee!!”

We don’t know the meaning of patience. We don’t understand that good things take time.

(This quote only sounds aesthetic when we get something and are going to post it: “Oh guys, see, I got what I want… GOOD THINGS TAKE TIME.”)

Seriously? (rolls eyes)

I was shocked when I heard people making scenarios in their minds when they didn’t get a reply… You text them at 4:30, and at 4:35 you’re like:

“Oh noo, why are they not replying? Maybe they don’t love me anymore… maybe they are done with me… maybe they are ignoring me!!!”

Why are we threatening our own minds??

Because we’ve trained our brains that the maximum waiting limit is five minutes, and after that, our brain starts ringing the alarm: “Oh noo, something is messed up… do anything else… reload… cancel your order… etc.”

Things become so overwhelming that we immediately lose interest in everything.

And that’s where boredom attacks.

Waiting → overwhelming → mood swings → boredom → anxiety.

That’s how our system changes.

Impatience costs too much, and we don’t even realize it.

.

Some things REQUIRE time.

You can’t rush growth.

You can’t rush healing!

We’re constantly in a hurry.

Always rushing.

Always chasing the next thing

So much that we forgot something very important:

Peace exists too.

Yeah, believe me, just take a deep breath and slow down the process.

Train your mind to say:

“I can wait.”

“Five minutes are normal.”

At first, your brain will panic. ( alot )

But slowly… it will accept this new reality.

Because the brain learns whatever we teach it.

Look at real life around you.

No one is rushing.

Everything takes time.

Look at plants.

They don’t try to pop out of the soil and become a tree in one day.

They grow slowly. Quietly. Patiently.

Look at animals.

Look at birds.

They fly freely.

They’re not shouting,

“Move aside! Hurry! Beep beep beep!”

Have you ever seen birds panicking like us? No!!

Only we act like the world will end in 5 minutes!

Everything moves at the pace Allah (SWT) designed.

Perfect timing.

Perfect system.

Allah created everything with balance, not rush.

You know that He knows when something is good for you,

You know that He knows when the things you want will be best for you.

You even tell others not to lose hope and to believe in the process, because good things take time ( again ) and yet,

look at yourself, panicking at every single inconvenience!

OUR GRANDPARENTS’ GENERATION VS US

I was honestly surprised when I found out that our grandparents waited a whole week… sometimes even a whole month… just for one reply letter.

And they didn’t stress about it.

Imagine us waiting one month for a reply???

We’d faint.

They cooked food that took hours of efforts.

Meanwhile us:

“easy dinner in 10 minutes please”

“one pot recipe please”

“chatgpt save me pleaseee!”

They crocheted.

They knitted sweaters.

They built things slowly, with patience.

And look at the results.

Look at their strength.

Look at their calmness.

Look at their emotional stability.

Our red zone starts after 5 minutes.

Patience?

Wait… what’s that?

We don’t even know her.

Waiting is hard. Yeah, it is.

I’m not saying it’s easy.

But it’s not the monster we think it is.

We just made it scary in our heads.

We get through bigger problems in life, we can get through waiting too.

Ask Allah to increase barakah in your time.

Ask Him to grant you patience.

Keep yourself busy with meaningful things if waiting feels heavy.

Because good things take time?

No, Everything takes time!

Give people some margin.

They’re not sitting on their phones 24/7 waiting to reply to you.

They’re living their lives too.

They’re not ignoring you.

(Maybe some of them are😅… khair, who knows, husn-e-zann positive perception is necessary )

Pray again and again.

Don’t lose hope.

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If this feels familiar, Sit with it gently.

Until next time,

Hania Rehan

( Waiting for your comments! hehe )

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like there’s only supposed to be one.

But for some of us, it doesn’t work that way.

Whenever I’m asked this, I stop for a moment. I start thinking, and honestly, even since I was a child, a single name never came to mind. It was always three or four.

The idea that one person should be your “everything” your one and only best friend , is comforting for some, but limiting for others ( like me ).I know some might disagree. I know the world loves the narrative of the "soulmate friend." But I believe the truth is much deeper: No one person can read the entire book of who we are.

We Are Not One-Page Stories

We are chapters. We are layers. We are complicated, messy, and ever-changing volumes of prose. And because we are so vast, different people in our lives connect with different parts of our story.

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• There are the friends I laugh with until my lungs ache.

• There are the friends I cry to when the world feels too heavy.

• There are those I share my wildest dreams with,the ones who see my future.

• And there are those I trust in silence, without needing words.

Some know my childhood. Some know my current struggles. Some know the specific weight of my fears. But very few, (if any )know it all.

None of them are "lesser" because they don't know it all. They are all "the best" because of the specific space they hold in my life, and that isn't a failure of friendship; it’s the beauty of being human.

What I’ve learned is this: just because I am honest, expressive, and loyal doesn’t mean I am “available” for possession.

I refuse to be controlled. Sometimes, people feel threatened by this. They want exclusivity. They confuse friendship with control and need constant reassurance that they “RANK” higher than everyone else.

Let’s be real for a moment: friendship shouldn’t be stressful. You shouldn’t have to walk on eggshells or rehearse an explanation for why you’re hanging out with someone else.

I’m at a point in my life where I refuse to feel “bestie guilt.” I don’t want to end up in a therapy session just because I shared a cup of tea with a different person.

If I have to constantly worry about what a “so-called bestie” might think if I talk to someone else, is that even a friendship? Or is it a hostage situation?

The Irony of the “One and Only”

There is a specific kind of irony I’ve noticed lately.

I’ve had people in my life who are incredibly possessive. They want me to name them and only them as my “Best Friend.” They want that exclusive title, that public validation.

But here’s the kicker: They often have their own “one” best friend already.

They want me to be their “only one,” while they have others.( seriously?!!)

Efforts have to come from both sides. I cannot be your "only one" while I’m just an "also" to you. Loyalty is a two-way street, not a one-way mirror where you get to watch my every move while you remain free.

If you want the privilege of being that special person who reads every page of mine, then you have to offer your every page in return. If you aren't giving the same energy that you are willing to consume from me, then you haven't earned the right to claim me.

Real Friendship the kind that breathes, doesn’t demand ownership. It doesn’t fear sharing space with others. My care for one person is not diminished because I also care for another. My heart is not a finite pie with only so many slices to give; it’s an ocean that grows as it’s shared.

And the Truth is:

When I call you a friend, I mean it. I will be there for you whenever you need me. When I let you in, it’s not a performance. When I trust you with my personal life, it’s because you matter, not because I’m trying to fit you into a pre-defined role of “Best Friend.”

I am a book. You are a book. We all are. No one can read every single page, but many can hold different parts of our story. That is what makes life beautiful: not the security of one person knowing everything, but the magic of different people helping us feel seen.

A New Way to Ask

So, from now on, when you ask me about my best friend, don’t forget to use the plural.

Ask me instead: “Who are your best friends?”

Because if I have called you my friend, you are already “THE BEST” to me, you matters to me a lot!

You don't need to be the only one to be the most important one and I don’t need a label to prove it, and I won’t accept a cage to keep it!

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If it felt familiar, sit with it,

Until next time,

HANIA REHAN

There’s always that one person.

The one we start changing for without even realizing it!

It starts small.

We care a little too much about what they think.

We laugh at things we normally wouldn’t.

We show up in places we know they’ll be.

Not to be fake, just to be seen.

Just to maybe matter a little more in their world.

And before we know it, we’re stuck.

Craving their attention like it’s something we need to survive.

We feel it when they don’t text back, or when they talk more to someone else.

That tiny sting in your chest? Yeah… it grows.

It turns into jealousy, insecurity, anxiety.

We don’t even know why we’re feeling this way.

It’s not like they promised us anything.

But still… we ache!

And yeah, that ache can get TOXIC.

We stop acting like ourselves.

We start becoming whoever we think they’ll like.

We twist, shrink, shape-shift, just to not be ignored.

Their attention becomes our validation.

It gets worse when they start praising someone else.

Even if it’s normal, Just a little compliment!

And BOOM!!💥 Suddenly we’re in this silent competition, rushing to do something that will shift their compliments back to us.

Maybe we post something online.

Maybe we say something clever.

Maybe we pretend to be okay even when we’re not, just to look good in front of them.

We start liking the things they like.

We give compliments about what they love.

We try to be like them, even when we’re not.

Even when we don’t enjoy the things they enjoy, we still push ourselves.

Because deep down,

We want people to say, “You two are so alike.”

We run an extra mile just to get praised by them.

Not because we love the praise itself,

but because their words feel like proof that we matter.

We overachieve.

Overthink.

Overextend.

Not for us, but for them.

Because somewhere deep down, we believe that if they notice us… then maybe we’re finally enough.

It’s not because we’re dramatic.

It’s because we just want to feel chosen.

So we keep trying. Keep performing.

And in the process, we start to forget what we even like anymore.

All we can think about is: What would they notice? What would they love?

And here’s the WORST part.

While we’re busy trying to win over the one person who won’t choose us…

We end up pushing away the people who already did.

The ones who love us for real.

The friends who check in.

The family who notices when something’s off.

We ignore them. We snap. We lie.

We become emotionally unavailable to those who would never ignore us.

We make them feel like they’re not enough for us,

because deep down,

we feel like we’re not enough for someone else.

Sometimes, we even get mean.

Not on purpose.

Just… out of fear.

We compare ourselves. We compete.

We try to stand out, even if it means dimming someone else in the process.

And later, when things calm down, we wonder:

How did I become this person?

And when we’re finally left alone, when the real ones walk away, we realize it.

We ask ourselves: Why did I hurt them? What was their fault?

They cared. They loved us. They showed up when no one else did.

And what did we give them in return?

Nothing.

Nothing but silence, mood swings, and misplaced frustration,

all because of that toxic desperation for someone else.

But by the time we understand… it’s too late!

THIS IS WHAT DESPERATION DOES.

It makes everything feel urgent.

It makes you feel like if you don’t fight for this person’s love, you’ll lose something that defines you.

But the truth?

If love makes you lose yourself,

it was never love in the first place.

If this feels familiar, Sit with it gently.

Until next time,

Hania Rehan

I was thrilled by the idea of staying inside the resort.

Waking up next to the lake.

Walking around it slowly.

Feeling surrounded by stillness,

greenery, and that postcard-like beauty.

But, My father at the other hand with his calm and thoughtful logic, suggested something different.

“Let’s stay at the hotel across from it,” he said,

So we can see the whole view, the lake, the surrounding resorts, the greenery.

Instead of feeling it from the inside, he wanted to experience it from a distance.

Almost like a drone view. (That was the exact word that came to mind.)

That moment stayed with me longer than I expected.

Because it wasn’t really about where we should stay.

It was about how differently we think, even when we’re talking about the same place, the same trip, the same lake.

That’s when it hit me:

we were both drawn to beauty, just in different ways.

I wanted to feel the beauty by being in it.

He wanted to see the beauty by stepping back.

Same lake.

Same resort.

Same journey.

Two completely different emotional experiences.

It reminded me of something deeper.

People don’t just live differently.

They think differently.

They value different things.

They seek meaning in different places.

And what feels magical to one person might feel invisible to another.

What feels essential to one may not even register for someone else.

We often expect others to understand us to see things the way we do, to feel what we feel.When it doesn’t, we feel misunderstood, or worse, we assume the other person lacks depth.

But every person carries their own mental lens, shaped by personality, upbringing, culture, fears, dreams, and life experiences.

And that doesn’t make either of you less.

Some of us crave immersion.

Some crave clarity.

Neither way is right or wrong.

Just… different.

And emotional intelligence begins right there,

in the moment we stop assuming,

and start accepting that the world looks different through someone else’s eyes.

Because true understanding begins when we accept that the minds around us don’t work like ours, and that’s not only okay, it’s necessary.

The more we recognize this,

the more patient we become.

The more compassionate.

The more connected, even in our differences.

Maybe the real beauty of any journey isn’t where we stay,

Maybe the real beauty of any journey isn’t where we stay,

but the understanding we build along the way,when we stop insisting on being understood and start trying to understand.

If this felt familiar, sit with it gently.

Some realizations don’t need answers, just awareness.

Until next time,

Hania Rehan

By the pauses in other people’s voices?

Why do I replay moments,

That no one else seems to remember?

Was I too open again,

or not open enough to matter?

I carry my words carefully,

yet they still feel heavy once they’re spoken.

I wonder if my silence feels loud,

or if my honesty feels inconvenient.

I don’t want to be too much,

but I’m tired of shrinking myself to fit.

I love with intention,

slow at first, then all at once.

And when people leave,

I don’t chase

I sit with the questions they leave behind.

Did I ask for too much,

or did I simply ask the wrong person?

Maybe I’m not broken,

maybe I’m becoming.

Maybe the things slipping through my hands

are teaching me what’s meant to stay.

Growth doesn’t always feel like progress;

sometimes it feels like loss.

Time keeps moving,

even when I hesitate.

Each falling grain reminds me

that I can’t hold everything forever.

What if I stop apologizing for my depth?

What if being “too much”

is just being honest in a world that avoids feeling?

I’m learning to let things fall

without letting them define me.

learning that I don’t have to be held by everyone to finally hold myself.

And maybe that’s enough,

not perfect,

not finished,

but REAL!

Ever sat back and wondered… is friendship actually affecting your life that much?

We all have friends.Some of us have huge circles, others just one or two close people.

And honestly? Sometimes we chase friendships just to feel like we belong, to blend in, and to not feel… left out.

But strip away the group chats, the Instagram highlights, the “just vibing” memes…

what’s actually left?

What impact do these friendships really have on our lives?

Here’s the thing:

Friendship does affect us, more than we think, more than we realize.

It shapes the way we think, the way we speak, what we normalize… and sometimes what we excuse.

And it’s not always about someone being “bad” or “toxic.”

Sometimes it’s just the slow drift. You stop doing things that matter. You let small things slide. You change, but not in a way that feels right. Even with that “solid” group or one person you call your best friend…

Have you ever asked yourself:

• Can I trust them when I’m not in the room?

• Do they actually care when I’m struggling, or is it just surface-level?

• Do they genuinely care about my growth, my soul?

And maybe the hardest question of all:

Will this person be someone who walks with me toward Jannah?

If someone immediately comes to mind… you’re lucky. Believe me that’s a GIFT.

But if no one does… that’s a reality check. Because sometimes the friendships we’re holding onto are slowly pulling us in the wrong direction, not always intentionally, but still.

And yeah, we often know it. We feel it. But we stay because it’s familiar. Because letting go feels lonely. Because we don’t want to seem “too much.”

But what’s really at stake?

Think about how much Allah loves you. More than 70 mothers. That love isn’t just comfort, it’s protection. It’s clarity. He wants better for you than friends who bring you down while calling it fun. He wants better than surface-level friendships.

Choose those who remind you of Allah, care for your soul, and support your faith.

If you’ve got a friend like that, hold onto them. Make dua for them. Be that friend back. ( Yeah because it's necessary!)

And if you don’t… that’s okay too. Sometimes loneliness is a space being cleared.

An invitation to ask Allah: “Send me people who remind me of You.” That prayer gets answered in the most unexpected, beautiful ways.

Friendship really does affect your life. Not just your weekends. But your hereafter, too.

So choose wisely. And if you’re unsure… ask Allah. He sees what we can’t.

If this resonated, hold it gently.

Let it rest where it landed.

If you’d like to keep reading reflections like this, you can subscribe below.

Until next time,

Hania Rehan

You knew you didn’t want to go.

You knew the conversation didn’t sit right.

But instead of saying NO, you smiled and said, “Sure.”

Not because you wanted to,

But because the thought of regretting your refusal felt heavier than doing something you didn’t want to do.

There are moments when we know exactly what we want to say.

We want to say No.

We want to speak up.

We want to walk away.

But something stops us, not confusion, not weakness, just fear.

That quiet, persistent fear of future regret.

We imagine ourselves, days or weeks later, replaying the moment in our minds. What if we were too harsh?

Too distant?

Too quick to cut someone off?

What if we made a mistake we can’t undo?

That fear whispers,

“What if you regret this later?”

And that one thought is often enough to keep us silent.

So we do things we don’t want to do. We say yes when everything in us screams no. We stay when we want to leave. We tolerate what feels wrong, not because we’re unsure, but because we’re scared of how we’ll feel later. And strangely, even when we’re right, even when the situation is unfair or the person is clearly in the wrong, we still hesitate. Because the fear of regretting our own strength often overpowers the pain of staying silent.

It’s a strange kind of self-abandonment. On the outside, we seem calm, polite, kind. But inside, we’re folding ourselves smaller and smaller to fit into spaces that were never meant for us.

And slowly, that becomes a pattern.

We choose short-term ease over long-term peace.

We protect others’ feelings while neglecting our own.

But regret doesn’t just show up after action, it also shows up after inaction.

It visits you when you realize you should have walked away.

It haunts you when you replay that moment where you smiled and stayed silent, even though something inside you was breaking.

That kind of regret is heavier. It settles into your bones.

It whispers not why did you say that, but why didn’t you say anything at all?

Saying no isn’t easy.

Standing up for yourself isn’t easy. Especially when you’ve been taught that being “NICE” means always being agreeable, always understanding, always bending.

But there’s a quiet strength in choosing yourself, even when it feels like the world might not understand.

Regret Will Visit, Let It Find You Brave

No matter what we do, regret will visit us at some point. That’s the nature of being human.

But when it comes, let it find you brave. Let it find you standing up for yourself. Let it find you choosing your peace, not abandoning it.

Because sometimes the most painful regret isn’t what you did, It’s what you didn’t do when your soul quietly begged you to act.

And Always remember:

Be kind, yes … but never at the cost of your own voice!

If this felt familiar, sit with it gently, Let it rest where it landed.

If you’d like to keep reading these thoughts, you can subscribe below.

Until next time,

Hania Rehan

Let me tell you why!

I was teaching my student Urdu, and we came across a sentence:

“Woh ghabrahat ka shikaar ho rahi thi”

(She was falling prey to nervousness).

I paused for a moment and reflected, these emotions are not just feelings; they are hunters. They trap us.

Urdu does not accuse the human being; it questions the state they have fallen into.

We do not say “you are nervous” or “she is angry.”

We say “ گھبراہٹ کا شکار ہونا” and “غصّے کا شکار.”

To be shikaar is not to be something

it is to be caught by something.

This distinction matters more than it seems.

A person is not reduced to their emotion.

They are described as someone who has been overtaken, momentarily trapped by a force that is stronger, faster, and often unexpected. Urdu treats emotions not as identities, but as events, invasions of the inner world.

The word شکار quietly introduces a hunter.

And a hunter does not ask permission.

• It attacks.

• It overwhelms.

• It steals focus, clarity, and agency.

In this framing, anger, panic, and anxiety are not romanticized experiences to be owned proudly. They are states of captivity. They narrow perception. They cloud judgment. They make a person smaller than they truly are.

Yet, and this is where Urdu shows its compassion,

The language does not shame the captive.

It does not say you are weak.

It does not say this is who you are.

It says: something has caught you.

There is wisdom in this mercy.

By separating the self from the emotion, Urdu leaves room for return.

If you are shikaar, then you can also be released.

If something has trapped you, then something can loosen its grip.

Perhaps this is why Urdu feels so human,

it recognizes that emotions, when uncontrolled, do not merely express us, they consume us.

And maybe the quiet lesson hidden in this language is this:

The goal is not to become fluent in our anger or skilled in our anxiety.

The goal is to escape the hunter and remember who we were before we were caught.

You’ve already seen it everywhere these past few days.

People proudly sharing their music age, their listening hours, their favorite artists celebrating it like an achievement.

But while everyone is busy flexing their playlists, no one is talking about the three terrifying truths behind it.

Let me break it down:

1. They are listening to music, which is itself Haram.

So the first sin is already there.

2. They are publicly displaying it as if it’s something to be proud of.

This is even scarier. The Prophet ﷺ said:

“All the sins of my followers will be forgiven except those who sin openly.”

(bukhari)

They are actually normalizing something that Prophet Muhammad ﷺ covered his ears from.

By celebrating it, posting memes, or flaunting it online, they're sending a message:

I’m not ashamed. This isn’t a sin.

And that’s a very dangerous place to be.

3. By sharing it, they influence others even unintentionally.

Someone sees their Wrapped, likes their playlists, their artists, their “aesthetic taste”… and starts listening too.

They didn’t mean to guide someone towards sin, but it still happened.

And that becomes Gunaah-e-Jaariyah, a sin that keeps being recorded as long as others follow in your footsteps.

Now pause… and really think.

A simple post… a harmless “Wrapped”

Shaitaan beautifies sins so subtly that you don’t even realize you’re walking towards Jahannum.

Just imagine, molten metal being poured into ears for enjoying music.

The thought alone is unbearable, right?

So how come the things that lead to that punishment don’t terrify us?

Shaitaan never shows the consequences only the “aesthetic post,” the “trend,” the “fun.”

But every trend isn’t worth your Aakhirah

Fear normalizing what Allah has prohibited.

But has anyone ever stopped to ask… who exactly are these “people”?

Because when we talk about “people,” we forget that we are part of them too.
If they’re judging, talking, blaming ,chances are, so are we.
We rarely count ourselves in the same crowd we complain about.

No one’s perfect. Everyone’s got flaws.
But real maturity?
It’s when you accept your flaws without constantly pointing at others.
We say we don’t care what people think — but we do.
We care so much, we’ve built entire personalities to prove we don’t.

And while we’re busy protecting ourselves from being hurt, we forget:
sometimes we are the villain in someone else’s story.
Sometimes we say the things that break someone’s heart — and we don’t even notice.

It’s easy to be the hero in your own life.
It’s harder to be the hero in someone else’s.

So before we say “people always…”
let’s stop and ask ourselves:
“Am I one of those people too?”

The truth is , we all are.
We’ve all hurt, we’ve all been hurt, and we’ve all blamed.
But healing starts when we admit this simple thing:

We’re not flawless. We’re human.
Own your mistakes. Apologize.
Before blaming someone else, count yourself in.

The Day we count ourselves in PEOPLE is the day we finally start to heal

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