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.