deehati-ustad-ka-qalam-the-silent-battlefield-of-life

 

"A girl became a symbol of affection and faithfulness."

Beginnings

Life constantly puts man to the test. Yet, in his relentless pursuit of comfort and ease, he forgets himself and the very system of nature that sustains him. On one side, greed carves its own paths; on the other, nature displays its majesty and destiny asserts its authority.

Fazal Din would plough his ancestral fields in the village and remain patient, content with his Lord’s will. He would yoke his pair of oxen and draw water laboriously from his well to irrigate the crops. But before the canal water could ever grace his fields, it would be claimed by the Chaudhry’s estate, and whatever was left would be taken by second- and third-tier landlords. Even so, Fazal Din would still dutifully pay his annual share of canal water dues.

His wife remained gravely ill. Rabia, though the eldest by name, was only about thirteen years old. She helped her mother with the housework and cared for her younger brother. Sadness had crept into her eyes long before its time. Her mother’s illness had hidden her childhood away somewhere.

She taught Qur’an to the little girls of the neighborhood. There was simplicity in her voice, and her words carried the fragrance of affection. Whenever she taught them, an inexplicable light would spread across her face. The small offerings she received for Qur’anic lessons kept the stove burning, but the wall of debt grew taller by the day.

One evening, Fazal Din returned home, exhausted. His wife’s condition was worsening. He had no money at hand. Lowering his head in worry, he whispered prayers to Allah for patience and strength:

"O Master, protect me from disobedience. I stand before You empty-handed. The Chaudhry’s collector comes every day to increase the interest on my debt, but You know well that I never took it as usury—it was only a loan I owed."

Lost in these thoughts, he saw Rabia quietly place before him the small offering someone’s mother had given for her Qur’an lessons. Seeing this, Fazal Din broke into sobs. Kissing Rabia’s innocent hands, he was overtaken by tears. As he pressed his lips to the fine lines etched into her little palms, he pleaded:

"O Master, I have always given the first morsel to my daughter. Day and night, I worry for her. Bless her destiny. Day and night, I toil in the fields to earn halal sustenance. 

At night, I sit in the village chopal, learning from the elders. This faith, this certainty, this contentment, patience, and gratitude—I have fed these fruits to my family. It is through learning these truths that I have arrived at this middle age. O Master, keep this humble chopal alive, for it is through this place that we rise and sleep with prayers of patience and gratitude. We seek refuge from greed and desire. We remain firm in Your will."

He was just about to stand when there was a loud knock at the door.

It was the Chaudhry’s collector, a man about Fazal Din’s age. A cunning glint flickered on his face, and a layer of greed clung to his words. He would find any excuse to visit Fazal Din’s home—sometimes to settle accounts, sometimes to inquire about their condition. But Rabia’s mother had long read his intentions. She had warned Fazal Din many times:

"I don’t like his coming and going. One day he will bring us to ruin."

Fazal Din would brush her off at first, saying:

"It’s just about settling the debt. Once it’s repaid, he will stop coming."

But inside, his heart trembled. The millstone of poverty had already ground his patience to dust.

In debt and illness, time does not pass the same way. The debtor’s time rides on horseback, while in sickness, time crawls on an ant. These are trials from the Master of the universe.

"My daughter Rabia, your mother’s suffering is great, and our test is no small matter. This is not a mere coincidence, nor is the Master unaware of us… Do you understand, my child?"

He pulled his daughter and little son close, sitting beside his ailing wife, and spoke with resolve:

"In Allah’s kingdom, less is often more; true richness meets you in poverty if you know where to look. Now I will tell you, my dears, where to find the Lord."

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Contentment

When endurance grows long, the Lord reveals Himself through contentment. He comes to see who among His servants walk His path and remain patient even on dry morsels. In truth, it is long-held patience that brings His meeting closer—sometimes hunger, sometimes hardship, sometimes joy, sometimes sorrow, sometimes tears, sometimes laughter.

Contentment means to be satisfied with what you have been given and to remain free from greed or excessive desire.

Explanation:

I have heard Baba Noora say in the chopal:

“Contentment is the quality in a person that makes them happy and grateful for the blessings Allah has bestowed. Even though a person could strive for more and achieve it, the condition is that they must not fall into greed or covetousness.”

Contentment does not mean giving up effort or abandoning work. Rather, it means the heart remains satisfied with whatever Allah has granted and does not succumb to envy or impatience.

Example:

If someone lives in a dilapidated house, barely making ends meet, yet remains happy—that is contentment.

If a hungry person receives a dry crust of bread but feels grateful that Allah provided something to ease their hunger—that is also contentment.

Someone beautifully captured this truth in a single saying:

"Contentment is a treasure that never ends."

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Patience

My son, the next form of long-held endurance is patience. Patience is the strength that prevents a person from breaking down in trials—to complain not, and to keep trust in Allah.

Explanation:

I have heard Baba Gama say:

When hardship or difficulty comes and a person holds firm without complaint—that is patience.

When a goal is delayed and a person does not lose hope but continues to strive and pray—that is also patience.

When anger arises—as your mother feels toward the collector—but you restrain it and forgive, that too is a form of patience.

Allah the Exalted has commanded patience in the Qur’an:

"Indeed, Allah is with those who are patient."

My son, I hope you are not tired of my words. Let me share two more things before I listen to your mother.

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Gratitude

My daughter Rabia, I have spent many years in the chopal learning these truths.

Taking her hands in his, Fazal Din continued:

"My daughter, you are a piece of my heart. You live in my soul. After I am gone, you must adopt these ways and stand as a mountain of courage for your brother. Never let the world break you."

Rabia swallowed the flood of tears inside her and rested her head on her father’s shoulder. Fazal Din went on:

"My child, the inner fractures are mended with the clay of gratitude."

Baba Gama used to say:

"Gratitude is the third, sweetest form of long-held endurance."

Gratitude means to acknowledge Allah’s blessings with the heart, affirm them with the tongue, and fulfill their rights through actions.

There are three kinds of gratitude:

1. Gratitude of the heart:

Believing with certainty that every blessing is from Allah alone.

2. Gratitude of the tongue:

Saying Alhamdulillah, praising and thanking Allah.

3. Gratitude of action:

Using Allah’s blessings in ways that please Him—like how you share your knowledge with others.

Allah says in the Qur’an:

"If you are grateful, I will surely increase you." (Surah Ibrahim: 7)

The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said:

"Whoever does not thank people has not thanked Allah." (Tirmidhi)

My child, gratitude brings many benefits:

It brings peace to the heart.

It increases blessings.

It draws one closer to Allah.

It makes trials easier to bear.