Another stationery-based solution to my irresponsibility as a student of knowledge. 😭

The problem, obviously, has never been discipline, consistency, time management, reviewing my notes after class, doing the reading before class, or remembering an assignment before 11:47pm.

Not at all! The problem was I didn't have the right piece of stationery.

And now I do. Allahu Akbar!

I have come to accept that a large part of my ṭalab al-ʿilm journey is buying stationery for the student of knowledge I want to be.

She is organised, reads ahead, reviews after class and knows exactly what is due and when. Her notes are beautiful and complete and she never finds some assignment buried somewhere in the portal three hours before the deadline and has a colour scheme to match all her Islamic science themes.

I have not met her, but I keep buying things for her hoping that one day I will meet her in sha Allah.

There is something almost delusional about the optimism I have when I get a new notebook, planner, pen, folder, tracker…

This is the thing. This is the system . This is the tiny organisational tweak that will finally turn me into the serious student I know is somewhere inside me.

And Bismillah every time. We start again. And maybe there is something to be said for that too.

I have taken one lesson from trying to seek knowledge and it is that you will meet your own shortcomings again and again. You will make beautiful plans and then life will happen. You will then be behind. You will overestimate what you can carry. There will be days when your mind is razor sharp, and days when just showing up to class feels like an accomplishment. And then you try, and try again.

Sometimes with lots of tawbah and du’a and a new plan, better habits and cute stationery. And just sometimes it comes with a yellow homework tracker that says “don’t forget”. 😭

At this point we need all the help we can get. So may Allah put barakah in the stationery as well.

Anyway...

Bismillah! This one will fix me, in shā’ Allāh. 😂

Why am I memorizing? Why am I teaching? Why am I waking up for class, reviewing my lessons, or correcting my recitation? Our routines continue, but our intentions can quietly fade into the background. Every now and then, Allah ﷻ blesses us with reminders that breathe life back into our purpose.

I love studying ahadith. My first love is still Tafsir, or is it Arabic? Doesn't matter, I love ahadith. Then with great teachers, it becomes soulfood I tell you. SubhānAllah. Then ahadith about the Qur’an…Light upon light! Waaaaaaaaaaa!

We are reminded not only of the immense virtues of the Qur'an itself, but also of the honour of striving to become among ahlul al-Qur'an, the people of the Qur'an.

Just like the famous statement of the Prophet ﷺ:

«خَيْرُكُمْ مَنْ تَعَلَّمَ الْقُرْآنَ وَعَلَّمَهُ

"The best of you are those who learn the Qur'an and teach it." (Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī)»

SubhanAllah, what a remarkable standard. The Prophet ﷺ did not reserve this honour for scholars alone. The word مَنْ ("whoever") is beautifully inclusive. It embraces the young one stumbling through their first letters, the adult beginning their Qur'an journey later in life, the teacher patiently correcting my tajwīd, the parent reading with their child after Maghrib, and every sincere student in between. Whoever is learning the Qur'an or helping someone else learn it has entered this noble category.

Even the order of the words teaches us something profound. تَعَلَّمَ (to learn) comes before عَلَّمَ (to teach). Before we aspire to teach, we must first be willing to remain students. Seeking knowledge is itself an act of worship, and remaining a student cultivates humility, discipline, patience, and sincerity. A teacher who never stops learning never stops growing.

And SubhānAllah, this was the way of the Companions. They did not rush through the Qur'an in pursuit of completion. They pursued transformation. It is reported that they would often learn ten verses at a time, refusing to move on until they had understood them and lived by them. Abdullah ibn Umar رضي الله عنهما, despite his extraordinary memory and scholarship, spent years completing Surah al-Baqarah, not because memorisation was difficult, but because implementation mattered more. Their relationship with the Qur'an was measured not by how much they had covered, but by how deeply the Qur'an changed them. It was their compass.

Then the immense responsibility of teaching. Teaching the Qur'an is not simply transferring information, it is carrying an amānah. It requires compassion, patience, preparation, and sincerity. One of the reminders that stays with me is that sincerity often reveals itself in our preparation. Preparing well, even when we feel familiar with the material, is a sign that we honour the trust Allah has placed upon us and that we genuinely care about benefiting those in front of us. A reminder for myself first…

How blessed are the teachers who continue to remind people of Allah through His Book. Long after a lesson ends, a correction offered with kindness, an explanation that opens a heart, or a verse that inspires action may continue benefiting someone for years. Every reminder that reconnects a person to the Qur'an is an investment whose reward only Allah truly knows.

Another hadith that left a deep impression on me was the statement of the Prophet ﷺ:

«أَهْلُ الْقُرْآنِ عُرَفَاءُ أَهْلِ الْجَنَّةِ

"The people of the Qur'an will be the distinguished people among the people of Paradise."»

What an incredible promise. To be recognised, not for wealth, status, or worldly accomplishments, but because of one's companionship with the Qur'an. Learning and teaching the Qur'an are not always easy. There are moments of fatigue, forgetfulness, self-doubt, and sacrifice. Sometimes we wonder whether the effort is worth it. Every page reviewed, every verse memorised, every child taught, every mistake corrected, and every moment spent with the Qur'an is seen by Allah.

The Qur'an is worth every effort. The path to becoming among Ahlul-Qur'an is one of the greatest paths a believer can walk. The Qur'an is worth it.

May Allah ﷻ make us among the people of the Qur'an: those who recite it, understand it, live by it, teach it sincerely, and are honoured because of it in this life and the next. May He abundantly reward every teacher who reminds hearts of His Book and allows us to benefit from them.Āmīn.

One of my favourite teachers has left my favourite school. And as I type this it is more than one teacher in more than one “school. And SubhānAllah! I have been sitting with that more than I expected in some of my down time.

And it brought to mind one of the most profound questions in our tradition, not because the situations are comparable, but because the principle is timeless.

When Muhammad ﷺ passed away, the Companions were shaken. Then Abu Bakr رضي الله عنه stood and reminded them:

"Whoever worshipped Muhammad, then Muhammad has died. But whoever worships Allah, then Allah is Ever-Living and never dies."

It wasn't simply an announcement of his death. It was a realignment of the heart. A re-commitment. A re-birth of intentions.

Of course, a beloved teacher is not the Messenger of Allah ﷺ. But the principle still reaches me today as I lie in my bed…

Was I attached to the place, or to the purpose?

To the teacher, or to the pursuit of knowledge?

To the comfort of familiarity, or to the One who is the Source of all guidance?

Or was it the journey of seeking knowledge for the sake of Allah?

The best teachers do something extraordinary. They make you forget about them for a while because they leave you captivated by the knowledge itself. They are bridges, not destinations. They point beyond themselves. They change our lives. We should love them, honour them, and pray for them. But they are never meant to become the destination. They are signs pointing us toward something greater.

Every transition in life quietly asks the same question…

Has your attachment outgrown its means?

Because teachers will move. Schools will change. Mentors will retire. Doors will close.

But knowledge remains worth seeking. Truth remains worth pursuing. And Allah, the One who guides hearts, never changes.

Perhaps that is one of the hidden gifts of every goodbye. It reveals whether we had become attached to the means...

or to the One who gave us the means in the first place.

Perhaps every goodbye asks us the same question: Will your commitment survive the person who inspired it?

May Allah reward every teacher who made us love knowledge. May He preserve them wherever they go. And may He make our hearts steadfast upon the path, even when the people who first invited us to walk it are no longer beside us and may He keep our hearts attached to Him, not merely to the means He uses to guide us.

Finished another Juz with my teacher. Alhamdulillah.

This is the most consistent, that I have been with a teacher on this journey, and it feels different this time — quieter, steadier.

Somehow, in my mind, I heard fireworks going off. My heart waited for that moment, for her to pause, smile, maybe even say how proud she was. In fact, I could already taste the zobo I was going to drink at the party that I was going to have.

She just turned the page and said, “Read.”

And I did.

Something about that moment sat deeply with me. Maybe that’s the lesson here. The journey doesn’t stop for applause. Memorizing the Qur’an isn’t a performance. It is a process, not a finish line. It is not the confetti, the congratulations, or the applause I sometimes crave. It is the quiet work of surrender, the kind that humbles you, reshapes you, and invites you to keep showing up even when no one sees, especially when no one sees.

Alhamdulillah for teachers who guide with simplicity, for the difficulty and the ease, and for a Lord that is Ash-Shakur. Please allow us to do only for your sake, Ya Rabb.

رَبَّنَا تَقَبَّلْ مِنَّآ ۖ إِنَّكَ أَنتَ ٱلسَّمِيعُ ٱلْعَلِيمُ

“Our Lord, accept [this] from us. Indeed, You are the Hearing, the Knowing.”

Dear Sisters,

Please keep me in your du'a.

There is a hadith I have heard countless times from my different teachers over the years…

From my tajweed teachers as I tried to shape my mouth around the letters.

From my Qur’an teachers as I stumbled over my recitation.

I used to hold on to the second half of the hadith, the part that promises double the reward for struggling.

It comforted me when my throat letters betrayed me, when the articulation of ص، ع and ض felt like a battle, when I had to first fill my lungs with air or swallow just to find where a sound should emerge from.

The one who struggles.

The one for whom recitation doesn’t come easy.

That was me!

That was my comfort.

I told myself, “this hadith is for me”.

My struggle is beautiful.

My mistakes are seen and In Sha'a Allah my effort will be rewarded.

I held onto that promise of reward like a lifeline.

Alhamdulillah!

This week (actually a few months ago, this has been saved in drafts), we started what I think might be my favorite chapter in Mishkāt —Kitāb Faḍā’il al-Qur’an, and then this hadith came up again.

And it felt comfortable, like I was home…

But then Mufti, in true Mufti fashion, shook my foundation.

"But this is not you guys. This is not for the students of knowledge.”

Aim to read the Qur'an properly. Get a teacher. Build fluency.

Sorry?! What!

Hard as it was to hear, it was good to hear. Because struggle is beautiful.

But growth? Growth is necessary.

We all need that one person who sees us more than we are.

Someone who doesn’t just console our struggles, who refuses to let us be satisfied with good enough, who won’t let us hide behind our struggles, but instead, reminds us, that we can push past it.

Sometimes, the bar we set for ourselves is often too low.

The Qur’an is not just something to check off, it is a path you walk, again and again and again.

I think back now and wonder, how many times did I almost settle for less because it was hard?

In what other areas of my life am I settling?

How many times did I almost convince myself that the struggle was the end goal, when really, it is not.

At least, not in the way we think.

To have a teacher who sees what you can be, who does not let you settle for where you are but challenges you to move forward is uncomfortable. However, it is also a mercy, a mercy that demands more, a stretching mercy if you like, but it is a mercy, nonetheless.

And it allows for so much personal growth. Alhamdulillah.

The best teachers don’t just teach or inspire, they call you to something higher. They see you. They see what you can be, long before you can see it yourself. They don’t coddle your weaknesses. They strengthen them. They tell you the words you don’t want to hear, because they know you need to hear them.

They hold up a mirror not just to reflect who you are but to show you who you could be. And then you fall in love with that version of you and keep striving for it.

May Allah keep us steadfast.

O Allah, bless our teachers in their knowledge, increase them in understanding, and wisdom. Guide them, grant them sincerity in their intentions and barakah in their time and then admit them into your Jannah without account. Ameen.

You know that feeling when you are praying in congregation, and the imam starts to cry?

His voice breaks and then there is a sudden, gut-wrenching shift in the air. You feel small, like you have accidentally walked into something special, deep, private and sacred while still carrying the lightness of the world.

Like you are in the wrong place at the right time.

That was me.

Except this time, there was no congregation, no imam in the front leading salah, not knowing if I was present or not. It was just me and my dear teacher, sitting across from me, alone, in class.

We were going through the tafseer of the last portion of Surah al-Insan

She started giving examples of what distracts us. She has been throwing shade lately at modern obsessions, especially skincare routines. We laughed.

Then she moved to the next ayah.

Without warning…

…she started to cry.

I sat there, still holding onto the last traces of a smile, completely unprepared.

It was not the kind of crying you could ignore. Not a quiet tear, not a pause with a deep breath. And she just kept talking so I had to hold into the look.

She removed her glasses, wiped her tears, and I just sat there, stuck between the echo of our laughter, a confused half-smile on my face, and the weight of what had just unfolded.

I felt like I watched her heart receive it before my mind and ears had even registered what was happening.

And me?

I was still catching up.

I am still catching up!

I thought about how lightly we take things, how easily we brush past the heavy. [Cue: the previous ayah]

How often we sit before the Qur’an like it is something to study rather than something that is meant to undo us and then…

We move too fast.

We stay too distant.

Almost, too cautious.

"We created them, strengthened them, and if We will, We can replace them entirely."

Look how fragile we are, how temporary.

She put her glasses back on.

The lesson continued like nothing happened.

But something had shifted.

And this is not like crying in front of the television at the same scenes of the same movie [erm…don’t digress]

It is the words of Allah…

To be undone by words you have read a hundred times before.

…O to be of the people of Qur’an

May Allah ﷻ make us among them. Amin.

As an early childhood educator, I have watched cchildren adjust to moving up to a new class. Struggling with leaving behind the teacher who once held their hand, remembering how they even adjusted to trusting that teacher.

It is in the way they peek into their old classroom, the way their faces light up when they meet them, the lingering bond, the unspoken understanding that something special was shared, it humbles me every time.

Recently, I had a taste of that, but this time, I was not the teacher. I was the student.

I stepped into my previous teacher’s classroom, and before I could say a word, she was already there, wrapping me in hugs and kisses, so many that I lost count.

It felt like…

Coming home.

Then, I reached into my bag and pulled out a small envelope, letters and notes I had written to her. She read them, and she cried. Now, I would like to think they were happy tears cdo it was cute, but there is a small chance she was just mourning my grammar.

Either way, that is not important right now.

She turned to her students and told them about me. I turned to them and told them about her. There we were—two people perfectly made for each other in a way that only a teacher and student can be.

I have never believed in the idea of us having just one soul mate. I believe we find and leave pieces of ourselves in many people, across different moments, in different seasons of our lives.

And sometimes, if we are blessed, they feel the same.

And if you love people, if you value people, tell them.

I hugged her one last time and left, carrying something else in my heart. I promise, there was a pep in my step.

And to the miss-not-so-toddler in my class who marches confidently to her previous teacher’s door, declaring, “I am going to see her because she is missing me.”

I believe you.

They miss us, too.

SubḥānAllāh!

Lately, I have been reflecting a lot, trying to arrange my thoughts, but they feel like scattered leaves, sometimes settling, sometimes swept away before I can catch them. The truth is, I want to gather them all, to sit and bottle up every feeling, every lesson, every quiet realization.

I want to document it all.

But some days, I am too mindblown, too humbled, too caught up in the living of it to find the time to write it down.

And yet, I need to.

Because I love words. I am not a picture person. My moments live best in words, wrapped in the rhythm of sentences, in the weight of meaning.

I tasted a sweetness today.

Surah al-Ghāshiyah was my favorite surah as a child. I didn’t understand then what it truly spoke about even though i memorized its meaning as well—the weight of its warnings, the stark imagery of the Hereafter wasnt sonetime i noticed. I just loved it.The way it flowed, the way it felt on my tongue. Plus, I had memorized it with little care for tajweed, in fact, no respect for tajweed, and recently, I had to re-do its hifdh. It is still a work in progress to be honest.

I remember sitting there, trying not to cry, once when I asked my teacher if I could just recite it the way I knew it—without the rules, without the corrections, without the undoing of what was once so familiar. Because that I could do. That felt easier.

But ilm doesn’t let you remain where you are. It refines, polishes, stretches you beyond your comfort.

Alhamdulillah!

Today, I was reviewing it with a new teacher, and she took me ayah by ayah, explaining its meaning verse by verse, including pointing out the miracle of the camel’s creation, so many layers of understanding that I had never grasped before.

And then we moved to Surah Al-Fajr.

Just before it ended, I felt it.

A certain sweetness…

A quiet, deep recognition in my heart that this—this learning, this effort, this journey—was an answered du’a.

I sat there, humbled. Grateful. Inspired.

Ustādhati reminded me that the greatest ni‘mah of Allah ﷻ is ilm. And then she mentioned the hadith:

"Whoever Allah ﷻ wants good for, He grants them understanding of the deen."

And in that moment, I felt it…

I want to hold on to this feeling.

To bottle up this sweetness, to sip from it on days when I feel distant, when my steps feel heavy.

To remember that this path, no matter how difficult, is a gift.

And yet, I know…

There will be days when the sweetness feels distant, when the weight of review and repetition feels heavier than the joy of discovery, or is it rediscovery? When I will sit before my mushaf, and the words will not flow as they did today. When my tongue will hesitate, my heart will feel tired, and I will wonder—where did the beauty go?

Hopefully, I will remember that ilm is not always a flood of inspiration.

Sometimes, it is quiet, steady work. It is showing up even when the sweetness is hidden beneath layers of struggle. It is trusting that, even in those moments of loneliness and difficulty, there is still barakah, still a nearness, still a mercy, unfolding.

Because the One who granted this sweetness today is the same One who will sustain it tomorrow.

I juat need to keep showing up, keep seeking, keep reciting, keep humbling myself before this ocean of knowledge.

The path of ilm is not always paved with ease, but it is always, always paved with khair. May Allah make this a hujja for us and not against us. Amin.

Today, I tasted it…

O Allah, do not deprive me of the sweetness of knowledge, and do not deprive me of gratitude for this blessing. Amin.

May He ﷻ continue to open doors of ilm for us, and may we walk through them with gratitude. Amin.

I had a few days off my studies and that space always allows me reflect. Alhamdulillah.

In my arabic class, something happened recently that took me back a few years ago.

I was in Kano attending a madrasah, and our teacher was teaching the tafsīr of سورة الملك in Hausa. We reached the part where the word عرش was mentioned, and she was trying to explain it. She said something along the lines of, “It is like a bed,” and I was already wrinkling up my nose, then she added, “gaɗon Allah”

So the word “gaɗo” translates to “bed”

I froze.

My Rabb doesn't sleep. So why would He be described as having a bed…

I mean, I knew what she was aiming for—the word she was struggling to find was “throne.” But in that moment, I felt like the meaning was lost in translation.

That day, I made a quiet resolve: I had to learn Arabic. I didn’t want to experience Allah’s words filtered through seemingly close translations. I wanted to connect directly to the source. So help me God.

Fast forward a few years, maybe 7 years, and here I am, sitting in an Arabic class in an Arab country…

We are reading the story of Prophet Sulaiman عليه السلام and Queen Bilqis. It is the part where the hoopoe bird tells Sulaiman about what he saw in her kingdom. The text had some description of her magnificent عرش.

My teacher sets the scene beautifully, describing Bilqis’ throne as an intricate سرير of a queen. You know what سرير translates to…

yup…

“bed”

She pauses and adds, “But of course, the عرش of Allah ﷻ is beyond our comprehension, nothing like this what we can comprehend.

At that moment, it all came full circle.

I was transported back to that small school in Kano, sitting in a classroom where “gaɗon Allah” threw me into a spiral of confusion and curiosity. Now here I was, miles away, finally understanding the word عرش in its richness, its layers, and its depth.

I sat there humbled, grateful, and overwhelmed, but in a good way.

May Allah ﷻ grant us beneficial knowledge. Amin.

I had a tajweed exam last week, and it was an intense experience for me. I had a busy week with sooo many exams and family and community obligations, but I survived and took the exam, Alhamdulillah.

When Ustadha asked us how we found the questions, my response was simple: It humbled me.

This exam was not just a test of knowledge, is it ever just that? It was a mirror, reflecting back my habits, my priorities, and even my approach to learning. It made me rethink how I take notes, how I categorize what is "essential" and what is just "extra." There were moments during the exam when I tried recalling things Ustadha had mentioned in passing—things I had dismissed as “gist”—turned out it was NOT gist but infact, critical points. It was a reminder that in the world of seeking knowledge, nothing is ever just "gist."

I have been studying tajweed for a while now. At some point, the years felt long and stretching. I would think to myself, How much can one truly need to know about tajweed? But now, those years feel fleeting.

What once seemed like a long journey now feels insufficient—a small opening to an ocean that stretches far beyond my reach. The more I learn, the more I realize how much I don't know.

Tajweed is not just a subject for me. It is a path that demands presence, humility, and patience.It humbles the ego and softens the heart, all the while, I desperately pray is drawing me closer to the Qur'an.

And as I reflect, I am grateful for the humbling, for the moments that remind me how little I know and how long the journey still is.

The is a something unique about the Qur'an, obviously.

هو كلام الله المعجز على خاتم الأنبياء والمرسلين بواسطة الأمين جبريل المكتوب في المصاحف المنقول إلينا بالتواتر المتعبد بتلاوته المبدوء بسورة الفاتحة المختتم بسورة الناس

It is the miraculous speech of Allah, revealed to the seal of the prophets and messengers, by means of the trustworthy Jibreel, written in manuscripts, transmitted to us through an uninterrupted chain, its recitation is an act of worship, it starts with Surah Al-Fatiha and it ends with Surah An-Naas. [Ulum al-Quran]

To be with the Qur'an, a kind of companionship that is both grounding and transformative. A relationship that evolves with time, effort, and intention, shaping not only our understanding of our religion but also the rhythm of our days.

I want to be with the Qur'an. And I pray to be with the Qur'an.

To be with the Qur'an such that a measure of how good my day is depends on how much Qur'an it had.

Imagine waking up and knowing that the presence of the Qur'an, even in small moments, can set the tone for the entire day. It is not a measure not of productivity but of barakah, not of worldly accomplishments but of closeness to Allah.

To be with the Qur'an that it realigns my priorities and reshapes what truly matters.

In a world that constantly pulls us in different directions, the Qur'an is a compass, gently reminding us of what truly deserves our attention. It simplifies our lives, making clear what is essential and what is fleeting.

To be with the Qur'an that it gives meaning to my mornings and peace to my nights.

Whether it is reciting a few verses before the day begins or reflecting on its words before sleep, the Qur'an bookends our days with purpose. Isn't that what we are all seeking?

Meanwhile, I need to get bookends…

But I digress..

To be with the Qur'an that it becomes my companion, not just my goal.

This relationship is not about ticking off a checklist or finishing a surah. It’s about creating a bond—a companionship that you carry with you wherever you go.

To be with the Qur'an is that it quiets my worries and anchors my hope.

When life feels overwhelming, the Qur'an reminds you that Allah is near. Its words offer reassurance, a reminder that you have everything if you have Allah. Even if you find that everything is truly not figureoutable, you rest knowing that He is sufficient for you in what isn't.

To be with the Qur'an that a single verse feels like a lifeline.

Sometimes, all it takes is one verse to shift your perspective, to bring clarity to a moment of confusion, or to remind you of Allah’s infinite mercy.

To be with the Qur'an that it teaches me to pause, to reflect, to truly listen.

It is not just about reading but about soaking it, deeping it. The Qur'an invites us into a conversation—one that requires silence, presence, and reflection.

To be with the Qur'an that it softens my heart one word at a time.

The Qur'an has a way of reaching the parts of us we try to guard, melting away hardness and opening us up to compassion, gratitude, humility and submission.

To be with the Qur'an that it shapes my actions before it fills my memory.

Memorization is a noble goal, but the Qur'an calls us to live its teachings first. It is in the small, consistent ways we let its guidance show in our actions that its light truly shines.

To be with the Qur'an that it feels less like an obligation and more like my home.

Over time, the Qur'an becomes a refuge—a place you return to, not because you have to, but because you can’t imagine life without it. a true safe space.

This is not a finished journey. You do not just arrive at the destination. It is an ongoing one, one verse at a time, one reflection at a time. Just to be on the road to itqaan.

The beauty of being with the Qur'an is that it doesn’t demand perfection, only presence.

O! To be present with the Quran.

The thing about dreams coming through that they don't tell you is that it is not fairytaley or magical vibes all through. It requires you to show up and put in the work. They say, "The early bird catches the worm," but this bird doesn't just wake up and stay in their nest or scroll their phones with their beaks.

Not to mention how sometimes that bird has a toddler who didn't let them sleep or notes to write up or even hifdh.

We had to reflect on a lesson, and my dear N shared something she termed "Road to Itqaan," and I was thinking about that road for me. I was only aware of tajweed a few years ago. It has been the must humbling journey for me. I have shared a lot of my frustrations and desperation here. I have bonded with sisters here, especially over the heavy letters and ر.

One thing I have appreciated is meeting teachers who are humble. And sometimes they, too, share glimpses of their own road to Itqaan and that road is very different for everyone. And it never stops being a road. And I think that is the beauty of our Islamic tradition.

Plus, I yearn for the sweetness...

Please keep me in your du'a.

I am curious: What is your goal with the Qur'an?

The thing about bias is that sometimes you dont even know they exist. As a young girl growing up in Lagos, Nigeria, I would hear people refer to them as "eleha" and I noticed how people will treat them and it was not with kindness, even the muslims. Somehow, a woman's covered face was a threat.

Then I listened to @shmohammadelshinawy talk once on hijab and @hadiyah_sabo knows this. It was so liberating. It was encouraging. It made the transition much easier, lighter. We bonded so much over it. It is an old one. I dont even know that he remembers speaking about it. I mean, this was 15 to 16 years ago. Then I read "from my sister's lips" and, again, a different view.

I remember the lady whose instagram handle was @theelehaa - I thought so brave. Heart in hand. I have been noticing my unconscious biases and sitting in a few "hard" conversations as a listener. Cos we all think that our hijab is good or the common one we tell ourselves, we are a work in progress. Is it really "in progress" if there is no change or work being done?

I remember one time I was in a Mac shop in Madinah  and everyone walked in with their niqab and then it went up, when they wanted to try on something, and then just before they went back out. It was niqab on again. Another different view. I wore the niqab for the rest of that trip. Alhamdulillah.

I think COVID also made us less threatened by a covered face.

Very recently, the podcast by @markazsalihibnsulaiman on the hijab did one on me, and I am sitting with a lot, thinking a lot and noticing a lot. We all have work to do. Sure, it is easier living in a muslim country but even if it is just the two muslims around you, how easy are you making it for them, how supportive are you, how kind are you,  what judgement do you hold towards them?

Recently, we had a conversation with Ustadha A, and style came up. I also see how we are trying to be stylish in the hijab/niqab and not under it. Maybe why we have so many chic hijab, modest fashion brands now.

The point is, I am looking to where I have been, where I am, and where I want to be. May Allah make it easy for us to hear and obey. Amin!

I am curious: What misconceptions or biases do you have, or have you seen around the hijab and niqab?

As I look back to my first year of studying, full time, I recall a moment when I asked one of my teachers a question, “I find myself quoting my teachers often. Is this wrong? Shouldn’t I be speaking my own thoughts?”

This question, born from a desire to find my own voice, now feels like a poor reflection of myself at the start of my journey.

Five years later, I find myself profoundly humbled by the very essence of isnaad — the chains of transmission that form the bedrock of our knowledge. My initial concern about quoting others has transformed into a deep appreciation for this practice. What once seemed like a limitation now reveals itself as a profound connection to a lineage of scholars and seekers.

In the early days of my studies, the act of quoting my teachers felt like a sign of dependency. I wondered if it indicated a lack of originality. However, as I delve deeper into the importance of isnaad, I realize that quoting those who came before us is not merely a repetition of their thoughts but a vital link in a chain of knowledge that has been meticulously preserved over centuries.

The isnaad is is not just a technical detail but a profound testament to the authenticity and integrity of our tradition. Each chain is a thread connecting us to the past, ensuring that what we learn is rooted in the truth. It is a recognition of their contributions and a commitment to preserving the purity of the knowledge they have imparted.

وَإِنَّ الْعُلَمَاءَ وَرَثَةُ الأَنْبِيَاءِ وَإِنَّ الأَنْبِيَاءَ لَمْ يُوَرِّثُوا دِينَارًا وَلاَ دِرْهَمًا وَرَّثُوا الْعِلْمَ فَمَنْ أَخَذَهُ أَخَذَ بِحَظٍّ وَافِرٍ‏

The learned are the heirs of the Prophets, and the Prophets leave neither dinar nor dirham, leaving only knowledge, and he who takes it takes an abundant portion.

اَللَّهُمَّ إِنِّي أَسْأَلُكَ عِلْمًا نَافِعًا, وَ رِزْقًا طَيَّبًا, وَ عَمَلاً مُتَقَبَّل

O Allah, I ask you for knowledge that is of benefit, a good provision and deeds that will be accepted.

Amin!

I think there is a particular sweetness in the Qur’an for those who have memorized it. I notice it now. The way they just move their eyes cos they heard someone say something wrong, even a missed izhār they can spot, infact dont even blame your network, they know you missed it. It is just in the way they are with the Qur'an. It is like shazam with Qur’an or maybe it is shazam that is like the Qur'an with its people.

Juz amma seems so easy, but it has been a humbling journey memorizing it. Even the mutashabihāt are enough to keep you on your toes.

My teacher is warm and strict. I like it. Cos even the letters I struggle with, she makes me work so hard at it, they are much better in the suwar I have memorized with her. Alhamdulillah!

Today, I made a few mistakes, and I have to redo the whole page 🙃 and Ustadha was right, I didn't give it as much this week as my previous hifdh. But I am more humbled by this lady who has been correcting her surah al-fatiha for a month. She shows up every week and reads surah al-fatiha, and Ustadha has something for her to work on. And she doesn't sound upset or disappointed or sad. And I am sitting in awe of her and then I remember something another teacher said when I complained about how hard I was working at correcting something, she said, Allah loves you too much to let you let it go just yet.

And for this sister, I pray Allah makes it easy for her tongue and her heart, and I pray that Allah helps her memorize the rest of the Qur'an with ease.

I am in awe of the sisters I have met on this journey. Mothers, grandmothers, wives, teachers, students, workers, business owners, housewives...

May Allah grant us all tawfeek.

آمين يا رب ❤️

Meanwhile, anyone else cries when they are reading to their teacher sometimes? I am just asking for a friend 🧡

#myhifdhdiary

The age of my oldest child is nowhere near a reflection of my marriage experience. And my idea of time has changed over the years. And motherhood is exactly that, a hood. SubhanAllah!

I love to study, and Allahumma barik, I enjoy it. They say that motherhood usually coincides with your rising career, but I beg to differ. While many find that their children's early years align with climbing the ranks in their professional life, mine coincides with a different kind of journey— seeking ilm. It is also not necessarily a rising because some days, my test scores place me down in the gutters.

This path is not one that I anticipated, but it is one I desperately want to embrace wholeheartedly. Instead of corporate ladders and career milestones, my days are filled with lessons, note-taking and late-night study sessions, quizzes and exams and me asking my classmates to explain to me what the teacher said like I am 2 years old. And sometimes, I ask the teacher too, I practice it a few times before I say it out loud, “Shaykh please could you explain that like I am 2 years old”

All while tending to the needs of my family, and the community.

I am constantly switching between my roles — from mother to student, from teacher to learner. And some moments, there is no switching. I am all of it at the same time, in that one moment.

As my children watch as I balance the weight of my schedule with the weight of their needs (whether emotional - and this changes ever so often as they grow; educational - curriculum/homeschool planning and letter B says /b/, plus moments of “mummy come and play with me”, spiritual, physical, social etc) and perhaps, through this, they learn their first lessons in resilience, dedication, relationships, and the pursuit of knowledge. I hope they learn humility and see the importance of consistency, being, doing, learning and seeking. My children see my struggles and my triumphs, not in the boardroom, but in the quiet moments of reflection, the anxiety of exams, when I have to read to Shayk or Ustadha in class, in the nights spent in prayer, and in the joy of discovering new knowledge. I pray they learn to do for Allah and desperately plead with Allah to accept from them.

And I keep saying, “I hope they learn” but the truth is I hope I learn too.

Motherhood and this seeking, has come together in a way that has reshaped my entire perspective on living, success and achievement. I pray that they see me not just as a mother but as a seeker, a student, a teacher, someone who is always striving to grow, to learn, to evolve.

And maybe this is the best of it.

Perhaps the greatest career I could have is the one that doesn't involve a corporate title but a deeper understanding of faith, of life, of love and of service.

So, while my motherhood hasn't aligned with a rising corporate career, it has coincided with something far more profound: a journey towards a greater understanding of my faith, a path that enriches not just my life but the lives of my children.

SubhanAllah! Life can change in a heart beat. Please keep me and my family in your du'a.

There is a part of dreaming big that we do not talk about. The part where your dreams come true. And you realized it was perfect in your head. You thought you were just waiting for the opportunity, cos you are worthy of your dream, right?

Am I worthy of my dream?

What if I fail?

What if it I hate it?

What if it can't?

What if I don't succeed?

Then you see the dream becoming bigger and bigger before your eyes, as it comes closer into view, almost crippling you.

Is it better to keep it in your head?

In your head…

it is comfortable…

wishful..

and has no risk of being anything else other than a success.

There is an Arabic expression…

خذ ما طفّ لك

which means take what is in front of you...

What is the next step I need to take?

How has Allah allowed me to move forward right now?

Focus on that. It usually is the rate limiting step, and action is such a great motivation.

For most things, done is better than perfect.

I didn't put myself here. I am not that poswerful.

And I whisper to myself, "I ONLY need to have the best intentions and put forth my best action, Allah had the ultimate outcome"

And out loud I say, “Aisha, It is not up to you. you are not even that powerful anyway.”

{ قَالَ یَـٰقَوۡمِ أَرَءَیۡتُمۡ إِن كُنتُ عَلَىٰ بَیِّنَةࣲ مِّن رَّبِّی وَرَزَقَنِی مِنۡهُ رِزۡقًا حَسَنࣰاۚ وَمَاۤ أُرِیدُ أَنۡ أُخَالِفَكُمۡ إِلَىٰ مَاۤ أَنۡهَىٰكُمۡ عَنۡهُۚ إِنۡ أُرِیدُ إِلَّا ٱلۡإِصۡلَـٰحَ مَا ٱسۡتَطَعۡتُۚ وَمَا تَوۡفِیقِیۤ إِلَّا بِٱللَّهِۚ عَلَیۡهِ تَوَكَّلۡتُ وَإِلَیۡهِ أُنِیبُ }

[Surah Hūd: 88]

One common piece of advice I have heard from every hidfh teacher or event I have been blessed to have/attend is to have one mushaf for hifdh.

That simple statement has shown me that I do have commitment issues. I assumed I was a “I like what I like, don't like changes” kind of person.

But this has felt like a marriage to me. I have been searching for "it"

Also, I did this once, and I loved it. There are so many different Masahif we own, or even in our homes. And we all are attached in so many ways. But they all tell a story…

The spine was broken and there was no cover to turn. The pages had turned brown due to age, but it still held all the words. Complete as any spanking new Qur'an.

It is new with rainbow edges. So cute! It is picked up once in a while and looked at. Too cute! It is kept away safely from sight so that it doesnt look less than pristine.

It is always in my bag, never open but always present. Sometimes the guilt hits me cos it was not open all week but it's easier to log it around, as well as the guilt that comes with seeing it and doing nothing about it.

Can you come up with any more similar stories? Sit and think about the story of your copy of the Qur'an. Please tell me the story your Mushaf bears in the comment below.

Also, also, ... Please, does anyone know where I can get the regular sized Madani Uthmani Qur'an other than Saudi Arabia?

I am always shocked and excited at the end of the academic year. I appreciate having a break from my studying, but is there ever truly a break?

I find myself reflecting on the intense months of study that have passed. This deep dive into the various Islamic sciences has been both enlightening and challenging. It hit me in our last session with Mufti K when he reminded us that Arabic remains an important tool for our journey. I mean, I know but when he said, “you will continue to feel like a imposter because of it” that hit me, cos that is how I feel most times.

I have analysed myself and my Arabic knowledge is interesting. It is very Qur’anic and also when I am watching videos, I need to pause them a lot. It is like I need to see the text to understand it. Imagine, someone is speaking to you and you say, “Hold up, can you write that down instead.” Lol!

Yet, as the break is here, I feel the need to shift gears and immerse myself in a different type of literature—one that promises to enrich my Arabic language skills and offer a refreshing change of pace.

Over the next few months, I have set a personal goal to read 100 Arabic children books, in sha’a Allah.

It is a new pace that I am excited about and as I am embracing the break, which is not just a matter of preference but a necessity for maintaining balance and mental well-being, I hope it allows me to stay connected to the path and increase my vocabulary.

Why Arabic Children Books?

They are charming and simple. Arabic literature is rich with vibrant stories that are both entertaining and educational and kind of short so perfect for language practice and you get a good sense of accomplishment.

This ambitious target is not just about quantity but about consistent daily practice and immersion. Here's what I hope to achieve through this journey:

• Language Proficiency: Enhancing my Arabic reading and comprehension skills in a fun and engaging way.

• Relaxation and Enjoyment: Allowing myself to relax and enjoy light, imaginative stories as a counterbalance to regular study.

• Vocabulary - All the words still unknown is humbling. I hope to have a lot of new words to study and memorize and try and sarf them without the pressure of an exam.

  Shout out to Ustadha Juli, she makes the sarfing from story books seem so easy and inviting! Allahumma Barik! And shout out to Ustadha Nichole for hosting Reading challenges which inspired me and then the gift of this book and another. Jazakillahu khair.

  ---

The Selection Process

Selecting 100 books is no small task. I plan to choose a diverse range of stories that cover various themes, and have varying page lengths and words per page.

I have received and collected a few books over time, so I have some physical copies of Arabic and bilingual books.

I also found some free kindle copies of books by one author a teacher of mine has recommended before - كامل كيلاني - If you have a kindle device or app, find them here.

I also found an app called Kutubee. I especially love it cos it has comprehension questions which help with testing my understanding? It also has a diverse range of books. Find the app here

Also, there is Miraj stories, which we have enjoyed as a family over time. I have been exploring their Arabic books and bilingual books as well. Find it here.

And if you are looking for arabic book recommendations make sure you subscribe to this blog and follow here

I will also share as I find more sources In Sha'a Allah.

If you have a plug, please share in the comments so we can all benefit.

Tracking My Progress

To stay motivated and accountable, I will document my progress. I plan to write brief reviews and reflections on most of the books, sharing my thoughts and any new vocabulary or phrases I learned. These reflections will serve as a personal record of my journey and a source of encouragement for others who might be interested in similar pursuits in sha’a Allah

I am quite excited and please keep me in your ʾadʿiyah (duas). I pray this endeavour brings growth, not just academically but personally.

I invite you to join me on this journey, whether by reading along, sharing great books, even gifting me books or simply following my progress.

May Allah bless our efforts and make this beneficial for all of us. Amin

Sometimes, I just smile when I try to think of what my children must think of me. I wonder if they do understand or how they understand it, cos now they use words like "smart" 😆

One minute I am reading tafsir or translating arabic prose and the next minute I am saying " ر - Aisha, not too much takrir" or I hold my chin and say "ر" or I stop mid way in my recitation and say "no imalah" and the next minute I am reading ا ب ت ث ج ج ج ج ج and yeah that is a lot of جs.

Then I record myself reciting Surah Asr, and I am listening back and saying, "No, don't bounce on the ل" or "ل is not a qalqalah letter" and then rinse and repeat.

Then, next minute, I am tutoring arabic grammar, and then after that, it is Saturdays with WOT @thetadabburco 😆

Even typing it all out, I see how it goes from 0-100 real quick. In Sha'a Allah, now it would get weirder cos mouth shapes 💣

Being a straight A student, this has been the most humbling journey of my life.

And more than anything, I hope and pray that the most important thing they see is that, no one is too good for the Qur'an and no one is ever done with the Quran and that no one ever stops learning the Quran.

O Allah make us of the people of the Qur'an and the people of Allah