Thank You More Please

I've just heard the story of someone so inspirational, so extraordinary it's bringing tears to my eyes. I recall a comment made by a very close friend of mine in response to my complaint of being over-worked; he responded by remarking that none of us deserves our positions yet we've been favoured over countless people. At that moment I felt like such a hypocrite. I had truly forgotten the roots of where I had come from. I was once living with a people that lived simple lives and had simple dreams like owning a cow or growing some rice and being able to feed and provide for their family. I remember the precious childhood memories where my Mum would work so hard just to survive, she always carried a sad smile about her. Her life was full of hard work and indeed she worked hard to raise me as best as she could. All the kids of my childhood in Bangladesh striving to strike a living, they were real, they're still real. I don't know exactly what I did but I was chosen to fulfil a destiny where my life had become so much easier (I was often  reminded by my family here in the UK that had I still been living in Bangladesh my destiny would have lay in ploughing the lands as the phrase goes). The truth of what my friend had said had resonated within the depth of my heart. Deep inside I knew that really I didn't deserve any of the luxuries and amenities that I had been given.

To start off, just taking a second to acknowledge my able physical body brought about a profound sense of gratitude. Adding to that, realising that my friends are my greatest assets, always ready to lift me up as I fall, knowing what to say and when to say the right things. They care about me and I find that most odd of all, because when I look at them I see greatness and when I look at myself I see a weak person. I remember when I was in year 11 (aged 15) I made a prayer for God to give me good friends, that was one thing I knew that I needed in my life. As I look back now, since year 11 the friends that I have made and kept are like the jewels of the world and the pearls of the sea - I wouldn't trade them for the worlds gold or silver!

I think about my counterpart in Bangladesh, he wakes up early in the morning goes about working, making just enough to buy bread, his sister works as a maid-servant for a wealthy family nearby. They both retire home to a shelter equivalent to the size of the smallest bedroom in my current home. If they had half-a-chance to live my life, what would they do? How would they respond to the 'challenges' of my day? How would they utilise the time and resources that I have? Asking these far-reaching questions gives me the strength to be better, stronger, harder; to realise my potential and work towards greatness. My good friend knows that if there is one thing that can move me, change me, affect me is working towards Justice in a world-ridden full of injustice and oppression. My counterpart is the victim of injustice, it's not his fault that the officials in his country are so corrupt, so greedy, so compassion-less. Working hard and becoming something of myself maybe I may be able to help him and others just like him. This is what drives me to Ihsan (excellence), emancipate myself from mediocrity and expect no more than greatness for myself.

Its that time of the year

As Summer creeps in rather early for us Brits (I'm still fighting off my winter's runny nose), with the recent magnificent display of sunshine, I am beginning to plan for yet another exhilarating year of travelling adventures. Regretfully, I won't be able to visit as many countries as last year nor will I be exposed to as many diverse people (SELIGER 2010, Russia), but there's one thing I'm certain of - I want to travel to at least one country every year!


After my final exam, 31 May, I'll have roughly four months until my uni re-starts again so I better make sure that I use my time wisely. The plan is to go Egypt in June, Saudi Arabia (if I can budge some of my friends to go) during July, August will be preoccupied with the month of Ramadan (Fasting) and September can be my one long month of doing nothing where I watch as much American TV to my hearts content. Actually I may even use that time to actually get out of my house and explore what London has to offer, meet with old chums and take on new hobbies (maybe even fishing in the river Thames).


In all seriousness, planning for Summer is of the essence, making the most of opportunities and cheap travels pays later when your roaming the bazaars of the Middle East or swimming in the lakes of Asia.


I can't wait for exams to be over and start the Summer Holiday with a bang. First let's hope I pass my first year before I get too excited. Until then wish me success in my exams ;)

Things come and go

I had woken up this morning just as I usually do, anew and renewed from the day before, not a care in the world. As I sat down gulping my breakfast, sitting contently and pondering over how I was to spend the day, a sudden inclination came over me to peer out of my high-rise flat window. I gazed at the metal fencing. My heart stopped. The world came to a standstill. For a moment I felt like a piece of my heart had died. How could the one thing that gave me so much joy and happiness just disappear in the darkness of the night. It was everything that I had wanted and more, it was the stuff of my childhood dreams. With it I felt invincible, able to conquer the  world-as free as a bird. My bike had been viciously stolen.

The traumatic experience was not that something had been stolen from me rather that someone had stolen a source of my happiness and joy. You see I had allowed a part of my heart to accommodate my bike just as one does to a pet. I loved my bike (and a part of my heart will always love it forever). For 20 years of my life people around me had either discouraged me or totally prohibited me from having a bike, I waited patiently until the right time would present itself. I would ecstatically ride my nephews bike when I was younger and learnt how to ride the beast, albeit falling off every second or so, or worse scraping the side of handlebar across walls or an unsuspecting nearby car, or even fatally I once busted the tyre of my nephews bike and at the time was so petrified that I had blamed my brother by letting him ride it and then pointing the guilt on him (that's was int he past, I hope my brother doesn't still harbour ill feelings towards me).

So when the opportunity presented itself over the weekend to buy a one-week-used bike retailed at £130 for a muggable price of £50 I leaped at the offer like a tramp on chips. I straddled on its streamlined body, couched my bottom on its triangular seat. As I began to pedal, the expression 'it's like riding a bike, you never forget it' rang some truths. I soared across the streets of East London, the breeze caressing my soul , the calling of freedom had seemed to be answered.

It was Tuesday evening when the fateful incident would come about 12 hours after 9pm. I was going about my Census job, finishing off the remaining households on my list. I had also had time to quickly nip into Lidl to buy some milk, jam and cheese and onion sandwich filler and to fetch some dinner for my two brothers. When I arrived home, I tried dropping off my friend to our storage space but the main door was locked so I resorted to tying my bike to the metal fencing outside my flat making sure to lock the rear tyre as well. The irony was that as I was being elevated to my floor I was thinking about taking out insurance for my concern of the recent boom in local crime.

So there I was 9am my heart racing like mad. I hurried downstairs and reassured myself that this was not some sick nightmare or a figment of my imagination. Sadly, the truth was string me in the face. My bike had been stolen.

I was distressed, I knew that I needed to talk this over with someone so I frantically began calling my friends. One friend did eventually pick up, despite the relative unimportance of this incident in the grand scheme of things, he reassured me, comforted me and advised me that this is a test from God, and that God only tests those whom He loves. Although it took some time, I realised that it is God that truly gives and takes, perhaps there is some good in this incidence, if not apparent now it will perhaps transpire later. That's all for today folks, stay tuned and 'keep it real' at Haidar's Honeypot.

Lessons from my day

For illustrative purposes only, I'm on the right hand side
(if that wasn't already obvious) with my good friend,
and brother Tasif on the left-hand side
(pretending to be cool with a fake phone call). I just
wanted to show what a 'Taub' looks like.

It's quite late in the day for me, normally I would retire to bed straight after Eisha (night prayer) but today would be different. I had been preparing all year for this, the excitement was too much. Though I have to admit it does sound more sad once I write it down. Tonight I am going to be sleeping in the prayer room. 

Looking back at my day, there are plenty of things that I can learn and ponder on. Of those, one of them is INTENTIONS. Have I been making sure that my actions are exclusively for Allah? For instance, I have recently started to wear a black Taub (long white garment) for all my prayers at KCL, but am I doing it for people to think that I'm practising or to increase my stature. OK, this one's easy, I'm doing it because our Fiqh teacher recommended it, and it makes sense. The way that I look at it, if I had an interview tomorrow I would attire into my most spick and spanned clothing, maybe even a suit. I would spray some Paco Rabanne cologne and dazzle my interviewers with my flossed, brushed, mouth-washed set of teeth. And that's only for an interview, leading to most likely a dunya (material) gain, so why can I not make an effort for my Creator, who sustains me, favours me with countless blessings, makes me feel safe and sound, disposes of my troubles and sends peace and tranquillity over my heart. It makes one think doesn't it.

Another personal development that I am constantly battling with is back-biting, speaking something about a person which they dislike - if it is true then it is gossiping, and if it is false then slandering. I am constantly speaking ill of people, especially about my brothers. Sometimes they get on my nerves so much so that I feel like confiding even in a stranger with my frustrations, obviously I wouldn't do that. I'm being too harsh, they're not really that bad, there's more good than bad in them. But that's the whole test, isn't it, can I be patient with them? Can I be disciplined enough not to open my mouth without consulting my brain, for surely I have found this is the most difficult thing to do, to THINK BEFORE SPEAKING.

OK, I see that this blog is getting a bit too Muslim-y. I guess I feel very comfortable talking about my experiences, my lessons. All I can say now is I'm going to bed now and if you can please pray that Allah makes my revision easy, efficient and productive (and if you have more time please ask Him to give me a first in my Summer exams). Until next time ;)

The battlefield begins

The air is still, nothing stirring, everything at a standstill. I turn on my side and gradually gain consciousness, could it be… has it really escaped… how on earth could I have neglected it? The bombshell suddenly transpired and the awfulness of what had happened lay bare in front of me. I had missed my Fajr (pre-dawn) prayer. The devil had now advanced, took a blow to my head and began to encircle me, I tried to find an opening but Satan had sealed them all off. Through this obscurity I saw a glimpse of light drawing towards me, as I wrestled Satan, the light glimmered and I remembered the hadith of the Prophet (pbuh):

"The Pen is lifted from three (i.e. their deeds are not recorded)

1. A child until he reaches puberty
2. An insane man until he comes to his senses
3. One who is asleep until he wakes up." (Recorded in Abu Dawud #4403, and Ibn Majah #2041)

I began to see the light at the end of the tunnel illuminate, Satan's whispers were beginning to subside, defeated by Imaan's (faith's) beams of light charging against the devil and in that I called to mind when God mentions:

"I am as My servant thinks of Me. I am with him when he remembers Me. If he mentions Me within himself, I mention him within Myself. If he mentions Me in an assembly, I mention him in a better assembly. If he comes near to Me a handspan, I come near to him the distance of a cubit. If he comes near to Me the distance of a cubit, I come near to him the distance of two outspread arms. If he comes to Me walking, I come to him running.” (Sahîh al-Bukhârî(6856) and Sahîh Muslim (4832)) 

 I invoke my Lord as Al-Ghaffār (The Repeatedly Forgiving) and realise that He is the Ar-Raḥīm (The Exceedingly Merciful) and where once the blows of Satan would have threatened the very essence and demeanour of my day, I pondered in solace of God's consolation that by nature man is created weak.


I grasped that the daily morning routine dictates how the day will end. If Satan is not exterminated on initial exposure, it will evade the line of first defence and breed with a constant dose of waswasa (whisper's)to try to tempt me, make me unproductive and distant me from my Lord. 

Day two of Spiritual Enlightenment

Just as I had predicted the previous day I knew this awakened sense of self would not last long, and certainly it did dissipate by the end of the evening just as the heat dissipates from a cup of tea. Although one thing did strike me as peculiar, this dissipation was not instantaneous nor did it fall to dangerous levels. By the end of the day I wasn't too far from where I had started. My spiritual enlightenment had by the turn of the day still remained constant.


And again as I awoke today, just as every other day, I felt lazy, comatose and out of it. By mid-day while I lay on my sofa half awake-half asleep, I knew that I needed some kind of miracle or even a pill to make me conscious. After ordering my younger brother to fetch me a mug of coffee I immediately felt the caffeine kick in, but many times before coffee was not always reliable but today I invoked my lord. Immediately, I felt like superman - man of steels. I quickly got my act together and began doing what needed to be done.


While I was going about my day God reached out to me and sent me a message. Though it was unorthodox, occurring while I was boarding the 147 bus taking me home, a woman began speaking to me about those 'gypsie' ladies who don a scarf over their head and pull out a baby in a pram like a bait to a fish. She remarks "These women, calling me a 'sister' they can't even say Salam Alaykum properly, I know their not even Muslims and when I told them that they gave me a funny look". She went on to talk about her frustration as a hard-working mother and then to be insulted by these women who cheat off people's hard-earned money and pay nothing back. She went on about more 'fraudulent' stories and then she said something, something I found quite unpalatable to digest. She pointed out "all these things, evading tax, falsely claiming benefits, cheating, committing fraud... it's all Haraam [forbidden]". It was not the content of what she was saying that shook me rather that some of the things that she was talking about were things that I was in fact committing. 


Growing up as an East Londoner, you don't quite really think much about these small acts of 'cheating' - even using the word scares us because what we do doesn't sound or even look like 'cheating'. For example downloading pirated content from the net, one would find all sorts of reasons to justify this action but the bottom line is it's illegal, it's fraud! Reluctantly, I began to see more and more of the things that I do that God wouldn't be pleased with and this is what initiated my phase two of spiritual awakening and enlightenment. I could feel God trying to teach me something, trying to evoke emotions within me - conflicting, perturbing the heart. My heart felt restless, I could feel the weight of all the things that I had done wrong. All these feelings intermixed sought me closer to my Lord. My late-afternoon prayer felt like all my energy had been depleted, I was focussing on every letter that I was reciting, every movement that I making. It felt something almost like after an intensive revision session or intellectual exertion, it was then that I knew that this prayer was like no other that I had prayed. After closing my prayers, I felt a sense of serenity overcome me and all the worries of the world has wondered away. The dark cloud of uncertainty had vanished and the constant whispers of failure had subsided. I was at peace with myself.

A sweeping soundness of my heart has enchanted me

At this very moment in time I feel so pure, so tranquil and a soundness in my heart. Everything around me feels unimportant, the people around me are invisible - I am in my own world, basking in the sweetness of spirituality that has enshrouded me. Yet I know that this feeling, notion, belief can not last long but I know that it's good for me, I feel easy, nothing is impossible - I feel like I can take on the world. I now understand why the true Sufi's (spiritual people concerned with the purification of the heart) spend their whole life in search of this tranquillity. Personally, I think this state of self should be used for good and be implementable in our lives so that we become of benefit to our selves, our families and the wider society.


I was contemplating whether or not to post such an entry but then I thought it won't be long before I revert to my old self so I better post this to remind myself that this utopian tranquil heart does exist, it just needs the right moment, the right mindset and the will power to harness its energy.


I am desperately trying to disseminate how this feeling came about. Key to this development is waking up early. This morning I woke up at 4am, I prayed my early pre-dawn prayer and later I decided to do something I had been meaning to do but never got round to actually doing, making excuses to myself so often that I had forced my brain to legitimise them as reason: I began to memorise some verses of the Qur'an. Though I was dreading the difficulty of this task, suddenly it felt so easy, I felt good, I wasn't getting tired at all - in fact I was relishing it all. I realised that this had a huge impact in the development for the soundness of my heart because it was something difficult to do, something honourable in the Sight of God. 


My second leg of the morning involved motivating my little brother, after properly waking him up at 7am, I advised him on time, on excellence on being successful, as always I had transitioned his sleepy head into a motivated mind. He raised up to the challenge (quite literally he tilted his head forward and sat up) and I was more than happy to support him. On my journey to uni, I opened my mobile Qur'an and listened to Shaykh Shatri recite and followed along with him, it was quite an extraordinary journey to uni, one in that it seemed extremely quick and two in that I had not actually 'seen' a single person, my eyes were pretty much closed and my gaze lowered throughout the journey.


Finally, last night, I spoke to a friend of mine and I think they gave some really good advice, and this is the final key to tranquillity -  that the day before is also full of goodness, motivation and success. 


In all earnestly, I do truly relish this state of self, it is deep and many people will not be able to handle what I am  saying (and some times I won't either) but here I am telling myself it is true, for once in a long time I feel 'happy', I feel at one with myself, I feel that all things are good in the world. Thank you more please. 

I'm so demotivated at the moment

So I've just finished the bribed coursework for my older brother, I still don't understand how I can produce an essay on a subject matter that I have no knowledge about - thankfully the internet, as I've recently realised, knows no boundaries in any subject matter whatsoever (even the illegal things are out there you just have to search long and hard and sure enough you'll 'accidently' stumble across it). At least my conscious can rest in knowing that he held his end of the bargain, even if I do feel like I've mugged him for what he's doing for me - and I'll leave it at that.


So my 12-year little brother looks promising. On top of his weekly laundry chores he has inadvertently taken on the dangerous task of cooking (the danger lies not in the stove but in the chore). If I know my older brother well, I know that he will try his utmost to bribe and bargain with my younger brother to take over his cooking rota for the week. This is a common theme of my home life: both my brothers arguing, making bargains and later hating each other. 


Now moving into my demotivated state. I feel so not bothered with anything at the moment, I am filling time by posting this entry even though I have tonnes of work to do.


Suddenly, my older brother just came in and on hearing the great news of me completing his essay he dragged me to the floor and gave me apparently the 'best massage ever', yeah right I've had better (by the way this doesn't sound gay at all). So yeah that was interesting, but the thrilling moment came when we tasted my younger brother's chicken curry, I was absolutely gob-smacked - it was even more tasty than my own cooking! This is now his second curry and his first independent cook. I don't know what kind of deprived childhood he has to look forward to but lets all hope that  its a tasty one.I went for seconds, thirds and even managed a fourth all the while apologising to my little bro for eating a quarter of his chicken curry in one meal, I'm such a pig. And so I slyly arranged him to actually have his own week of cooking rota, and docilely he accepted - no further questions were asked, at times like this I feel so evil - muhahahah! 


And so the rest of the day was quite 'waste' as one may call it in the 'hood', yeah I'm talking like this after recently watching a Youtube video on 30 slang words you need to know (especially if you live in East London). Until next time...

Haidar's Honeypot

The naming of this Blog is rather sad, I spend almost half an hour going through the dictionary to find a letter that would alliterate with Haidar. My initial eureka moment was when I discovered the word 'head' and that it could be combined with Haidar to give the Blog title 'Haidar's Head', but then I thought nah its way too typical. So my quest for a Blog title continued until I stumbled across the word honeypot - and I thought wow this could really work. And here we have it - Haidar's Honeypot.


A brief update, I am absolutely swamped with a barrel of workload up to my elbows and knees that's going to keep me busy for at least two months. Did I mention it's exam season! I feel like a slave to my books, not a day goes by where I don't feel guilty for not doing enough and as much as I should. Add to that, working for the Census 2011 and me being brave enough to complete most of my 25-hour contract over the weekend keeps me unsociable. 


Over the weekend, I've been contemplating getting a cat, a really adorable one, one that makes you go' aaaw' , 'he's so cute' and 'look what he's doing!' kind of cat. It has to be one that does not shed so much fur such that its constantly belching hair-balls every five seconds.


I read this article, Why do people have to leave each other?, Saturday morning and I was honestly blown away by the conclusion. The writer sheds light on our relationships with other and how to define it:

"It means when you have friends, don’t expect your friends to fill your emptiness. When you get married, don’t expect your spouse to fulfill your every need. When you’re an activist, don’t put your hope in the results. When you’re in trouble don’t depend on yourself. Don’t depend on people. Depend on God."

I felt a fresh sense of empowerment like I was "unconquerable, because [my] supporter [could] never be conquered. And [I would] never become empty, because [my] source of fulfillment is unending and never diminishes." This colourful way of thinking extended throughout my day; my actions, my thoughts and my demeanour had radically changed in the course of an hour. I found comfort in the fact that actually this Dunya (material world) is imperfect - our outlook in this life should not be disappointing by the rollercoaster of life's ups and downs. "That is because if our inner state is dependent on something that is by definition inconstant, that inner state will also be inconstant. If our inner state is dependent on something changing and temporary, that inner state will be in a constant state of instability, agitation, and unrest. This means that one moment we’re happy, but as soon as that which our happiness depended upon changes, our happiness also changes. And we become sad. We remain always swinging from one extreme to another and not realizing why."


You'll have to read the rest of the article to truly understand what I'm talking about, it's deep - its not for the feint hearted. As always Suhaibwebb.com produces outstanding articles bu high-calibre scholars, so I highly recommend anyone interested to browse through and window shop some of the ideas, until then adios my amigos!