One day, a brilliantly beautiful and fragrant flower with attractive
colours met a pearl that lived far in the bottom of the sea and had none
of these characteristics.

Both got acquainted with each other.

The flower said: "Our family is large; roses and daisies are members of
the family. And there are many other species that are various and
countless; each has a distinctive scent, and appearance."

Suddenly, a tinge of distress appeared on the flower.

"Nothing accounts for sorrow in your talk; so why are depressed?" The
pearl asked.

"Human beings deal with us carelessly; they slight us. They don't grow
us for our sake but to get pleasure from our fragrance and beautiful
appearance. They throw us on the street or in the garbage can after we
are dispossessed of the most valuable properties; brilliance and
fragrance" The flower sighed.

And then the flower said to the pearl: "Speak to me about your life!
How do you live? How do you feel it? You are buried in the bottom of
the sea. "

The pearl answered: "Although I have none of your distinctive colours
and sweet scents, humans think I am precious. They do the impossible to
procure me. They go on long journeys, dive deep in the seas searching
for me. You might be astounded to know that the further I lay, the more
beautiful and brilliant I become. That's what upraises my value in
their thought. I live in a thick shell isolated in the dark seas.
However, I'm happy and proud to be in a safe zone far from wanton and
mischievous hands and still the humans consider me highly valuable"

The flower is the unveiled woman (who shows her charms)

and the pearl is the veiled woman (who conceals her beauties) Think
about it!

by Huma Ahmad

The man stood upon a bluff overlooking the sea. He looked across, across the wide blue expanse to the sun reflecting off the water and remembered all that he had seen.

He had travelled to India and seen the poverty of the people. So many people crowding the busy streets, teeming with bicycles, rickshaws and cars. The signs of poverty lay everywhere. Everywhere they held out their hands and begged money for food. Women asked for help gesturing to their hungry childdren. Old men pointed towards their broken limbs or where their limbs should have been and recounted how they had lost them. Disease, hunger, heat, pessimism, all lingered in the air.

He had travelled to Palestine and saw women in black hijab watching helplessly as outsiders demolished their homes and lives and enforced unjust laws upon them, in their own country. The young fought back in any way they could, fought for what they never had, for now this generation will have grown up without a homeland.

He travelled to Egypt and saw teenagers watching Western films and imitating them. He saw girls wearing mini-skirts and smoking and the boys using English swearwords and picking up girls. And this was a Musllim country. Completely rejecting their religion, they were concerned only with becoming as Western and as `cool' as they could be.

He travelled to Russia and watched with joy as the people newly free began to pray and read the Quran again. And he watched with tears as the people of Bosnia suffered. Hundreds of thousands died. Three million became homeless, to freeze or starve. Thousands were sent to torture and death camps. Women were used as a weapon of war. Innocent bystanders, those who tried to help and snipers were not differentiated among, all were gunned down on the streets regardless. Parents had to make the hardest decision of their lives, whether to send their children away from a warzone or towards an unknown future. University students now become soldiers, become accustomed to blood, killing and death.

He had travelled to America and saw the people, so rich in life, money and freedom do nothing to help those others around them. Content in their world, too involved in their own petty problens, they were ignorant. Children grew up on playgrounds surrounded by violence, drugs, and alcohol. No one was there to warn them. Going to public schools they were completely involved with `American' life. Religion, morals, thought, all seemed to dissappear from their lives.

He travelled to Somalia and saw the people starving from drought and war. Armed bands commandeered shipments of food and aid for hungry children and people. Up to 5,000 died there each week. Many faced imminent starvation. Hospitals were so crowded many lay bleeding in dirty hallways.

All over the world, he saw Islam burning. They had all thought the next millenium would bring power and strength to the Muslims. Instead, it seemed dissintegrating Qurans and boarded up mosques would become a scene from the future.

He looked up towards the horizon and saw a speck of gold that was his boat. It soon slipped over the edge and dissappeared. Now he could never go back. He turned and walked away as the sun set behind him.

Some time ago in Multan Shareef, I saw a very dubious looking character occupied in du’aa. He was thin and tall, and for some peculiar reason seemed very sad. Despite his appearance, what had really captured my attention was a small container hung around his neck carrying water, in which he had dipped the fingers of his right hand. Due to my curiosity I had finally struck up the courage to approach him. After introductions I had asked regarding the container around his neck, and as to why he had dipped his fingers into it. He stared at me long and hard, and then let out a huge sigh before talking.

“I have a small grocery store, once a beggar came to my shop seeking my assistance. Out of pity I took a coin and placed it in the palm of his hand. He then began to pray for me before leaving. He started coming regularly and each day I would give him something or the other. As time went by we had established a good relationship, and we were very close. Until one day I had noticed that this beggar was no longer coming to my store. I had sensed that something was wrong as for him not to come was unusual. I had never been to his home, but was aware that he had resided on the outskirts of the city. I then decided to go out in search of this poor fellow, and finally I had found his hut. Upon entering the signs of poverty were prevalent. He was lying in one corner of the room and appeared to be very ill and weak. He then opened his eyes and glanced towards me. Sorrow had filled his eyes and signs of recovery were faint. With a lot of difficulty he finally began to speak. He sought my forgiveness and admitted to having deceived me. Surprised, I asked the reason for his seeking of forgiveness. He thus replied in a solemn voice: ‘I had fabricated all those stories so as to gain the pity of the people, who in turn would give me money.’ He then began narrating to me the story of his life. He did not fancy working and had gotten into the habit of begging. The situation had become such that he eventually left his wife and children and came to live there. After narrating his story, he instructed me to go to one corner of the room. Tucked away in one corner was a large sack. Upon opening it, to my surprise I had found that this sack was full of money.

He requested that I take the money to him so that he may look at it one last time. Then, he told me that he wished his money to be buried along with him. Upon his death I managed to dig a large grave, I had fulfilled his request of being buried along with his money.

Years passed by and I had fallen into great debt. I was helpless and in desperate need of financial aid, it was then that I had remembered the beggar. That night I set out for the graveyard and managed to dig a hole. My courage was lost…I was searching for the sack when suddenly I felt a severe burning sensation in my hand, I screamed out in both pain and fear.

I have shown my hand to many physicians and doctors, all making no difference. The only way I am able to receive some relief from the pain is when my hand is immersed into water, therefore I try to keep my hand in water as much as possible.”

Like the various forms of media (television, newspapers, radio etc.) reading too is portrayed as an instrumental tool of education. Though many of us claim that reading books can never be as harmful as television, we do not consider the adverse effects of unislamic literature. As children we are made to read fairy tales at school, we eventually become so engrossed in them that the very same fairies, demons and witches become the basis of our beliefs. Our morals, ideas and views are based upon such whims and fantasies.

I would like to share my incident so that perhaps other children may be saved from the same misery and pain which I had endured.

“As a young child, I was taught to read. Initially I had found it very difficult, yet, later on at the stage of eight I was able to read with understanding, but had not shown any interest. Due to the pressure which I was receiving from school, I was compelled to read. At the tender age of ten someone had introduced me to books through a different light. She had convinced me that if you had the right book, reading would become enjoyable. Eventually I had become a member of the local library and was hooked to reading. I would at times read three books daily leaving all the household chores to my mother. Sometimes I would start a book and read into the early hours of morning, to avoid the suspense of not knowing the end.

Secretly I began to wish that my life would become more exciting, and that I would be given more freedom.

I had wanted to leave my Hijaab so that I could have fun in a westernised manner. The books had created within me a burning desire, a desire to become westernised.

Sometimes I would be reading a book, and suddenly stop to imagine myself appearing in an incident, I had wished to become the characters portrayed in the book, in turn subconsciously wanting to become a Kaafir (disbeliever). I had lived in a fantasy, a day dream. I heard voices and saw people. My mind had become a television screen on which I had screened all that I had read in books.

For me books had kindled a desire to become daring, adventurous and dress against the conduct of Islam. At first it had seemed ‘cool’ and ‘trendy’, but later on I had realised that this was not me, instead it was a non-existing character extracted from a story book. During this phase I had never really enjoyed life and was very ungrateful. I neglected my parents and had forgotten about Islam. Life was miserable.

After realising my mistakes, I am now able to recognise my Deen and my Creator. Amongst the many things Islam had taught me I am now able to appreciate life more, yet regret the valuable time which I wasted.”

Note: this is not my story. I found it in a magazine.

This incident occurred in Pakistan. It was the month of Ramadhaan just before Iftaar. A mother told her daughter: “Help me prepare food.” The daughter replied: “Mother! It’s time for me to see a TV programme. After the programme I will help you.” Saying this the daughter went into one of the upper storey rooms where the TV was kept. She locked the door from inside fearing her mother would force her to work.

The mother continuously called her daughter but her daughter never replied. It was getting late, all the men returned home. Meals for breaking the fast were served-but the daughter did not come out of the TV room as yet. The mother knocked on the door but no sound came from inside the room. The mother became afraid, her heart began throbbing. She called her husband and sons. They broke the door and entered the room. In utter amazement they found the girl lying face downwards on the floor. On examining her they found that she had already passed away. Now the girl’s condition was as if she was “glued” to the floor. Despite efforts to lift her up, they could not. Each person tried but they just tired themselves out. While they were wondering what to do next, one of them suddenly decided to lift up the TV set. When he did that to their utter amazement, the girl also lifted, otherwise it was impossible to lift her. Finally they lowered the girl and the TV set to the ground floor. Thereafter they gave her ghusal and shrouded her. When it was time to lift up the bier, to their utter amazement, they could not do so. Finally they placed the girl in the grave, and as soon as they lifted the TV set, and set out for home the dead girl suddenly came out of her grave. Once again they laid the girl in her grave and this time too when they lifted the TV set on their way back home, the dead girl suddenly came out of her grave. Now everyone present became perplexed and worried. Finally they buried the girl with the TV set in the grave. Only Allah knows how this girl was treated in the grave.

Apart from being deemed a sinful activity when indulged in out of Ramadaan, watching TV is even more detrimental to do so in such a blessed month. The watching of TV destroys one’s good deeds as quickly and effectively as fire consumes wood. The above incident is mentioned in numerous books and there is lesson in it for those who want to follow the right path and please their Lord.

May Allah guide us all. Ameen.