I found tranquility today. I woke up this morning and wrote a bit of a story I’m writing, which is just utter bliss when I have inspiration. I then read a bit and did some mosque-related work. After that I spent a good chunk of my day making Tasbeehs (a string of beads used as a counter of utterances of specific phrases glorifying God). Tomorrow I’m going to an event where we pack bags of everyday supplies to give to the needy, and my contribution is Tasbeehs. It was actually nice to just sit in silence and string the beads. It kind of made me consider taking this up as a hobby.
Some time within the last couple of years, I heard someone talking about the effect of silence. I can’t remember right now who it was, or even if it was in a lecture or a simple conversation, but they were saying how we have grown to be so uncomfortable with silence. We fill it with music, or meaningless conversation, when silence can be a beautiful thing. If it wasn’t Ramadan, I would have probably had music playing while I was making the Tasbeehs, and today I considered at least listening to a lecture while doing my little project. However once I started spreading everything out, I suddenly did not want to break the peaceful silence that had filled my room. It was nice. It gives you time to think, or time to not have to think at all.
My section of Muhammad today was unfortunately not very interesting. It was all about the Battle of Uhud, the second battle in the war between the Muslims and the Quraysh. I’ve found that in any book I read, I don’t really like reading about the actual battle scenes. Also, this particular battle had a lot of death in it. So many people who I’ve been reading about died: Hamzah, Anas, a particularly tragic death of Hanzalah, who had just gotten married that morning.
One of the really sad aspects of this war, which I noticed particularly in these chapters on the Battle of Uhud, is that there were a lot of families that had members on both sides of the war. In this battle, Abu Bakr was faced head to head with his own son. Also at the beginning of battle, both Hanzalah and Prophet Muhammad (S) were faced with family members.
“As soon as the two hosts were within earshot of each other, Abu Sufyan halted his advance and stepped a little ahead of the standard. ‘Men of Aws and Khazraj,’ he said, ‘quit ye now the field, and leave to me my cousin. Then we will be gone from you, for we have no call to fight you.’ But the Helpers [Muslims of Medina] answered him with a roll of thunderous abuse. Then another man stepped forward from the Meccan ranks, and Hanzalah was grieved to recognize his father, who now proclaimed his presence: ‘Men of Aws, I am Abu `Amir!'”
Time and time again, I’ve read such sad moments where the Prophet’s (S) own family members verbally abuse him and contribute in the persecution of his followers because they refuse to accept his message. So many other families were torn apart because of the refusal to abandon their idol gods. War in any circumstance is a tragedy, but war against those who were once loved ones is just so much worse.
*IFTAR PICTURE OF THE DAY*
I finally got to fry samosas today! I can’t believe over half the month has gone by and I haven’t once made samosas or bhajiya.