It is the holy month of Ramazan these days, and the time of
forgiveness, abstinence, and prayer has been upon us for quite some time. This
year’s Ramazan was one we all had been dreading, for it was stationed in the
extremely hot months of July and August. Some of the days were extremely tough,
whereas others were relatively easy upon us. It was one of these days
where I found myself musing over the fact that eighteen days of Ramazan have passed already. My
brain registered this fact with a certain degree of shock, for it didn’t quite
feel like the feat it was supposed to. I remember a time when the first fifteen
days of Ramazan seemed interminable, and the huge sigh of relief we would heave
when they had passed. But now, nothing. It seemed like the eighteen days of
Ramazan were not much different from any other ordinary day,
And suddenly, it struck me why. It’s because the days of
Ramazan are nothing more than ordinary days for us. Think about it: what more
meaning does the month of Ramazan hold for most of us other than abstaining
from food and drink? It is common to hear people exclaiming with pride, “tera
bhai Sehri k baad soya aur Iftar se ghanta pehlay utha!” (Your brother slept
after Sehri and awoke just an hour before Iftar time!). What is the point of
fasting then? Because the purpose of the holy month of Ramazan is so much more
than to merely make us realize the hardships of having to go without food and
drink. It is the month where the gates of forgiveness are opened, and the devil
is chained. It is the perfect opportunity to seek forgiveness for your sins,
and set your priorities right. But if we do not avail these wonderful
opportunities, then our fasting is nothing more than mindlessly subjecting our body to physical discomfort, is it?
And then I realized that this small, trivial thought has
far-reaching implications. It is just not our Ramazan that has this problem,
rather the whole of our religion. Islam is not just a mere religion; it is a
complete code of life. It has given us counsel on each and every detail of
life, minute as it might be. But we have restricted our religion to nothing
more than its practices. If a person prays five times a day regularly, and he
fasts, and he reads the Quran, we proclaim him to be a “pakka Jannati”. He is
the most pious person ever. Is Islam restricted to religious practices only?
What of all the rest of the things that Islam teaches us? What of all the small
things such as how to how to treat your parents, how to behave with your
teachers, what to do and what to refrain from in a social gathering, the
concept of ‘Pardah’, refrain from backbiting and flattery and whatnot? Here’s a
little example to elaborate. Often when hanging out with friends, we tend to
taunt or insult each other (the correct term for it in Urdu is ‘point maarna’),
or we tend to swear at others in general conversation. The victim flushes and
retaliates. This kind of thing is usually done in a joking and relaxed manner, so
it’s all good… Or is it? Think about the person you taunt or swear at. He
retaliates, but what about the small stab of pain/hurt he feels before that? It
may be momentary and trivial, but it is there nonetheless. And how is the
Muslim defined? According to a rough translation, “A Muslim is he by whose hand
and tongue other Muslims are safe”. We tend to forget all these little things
and more that make Islam the perfect religion, and choose instead to declare
ourselves the perfect Muslim based solely on following the Islamic practices.
Then there is another factor that needs to be mentioned
here: the fact that we have made Islam a more restricted religion than it
really is. People supporting the ‘liberal’ viewpoint often label Islam as an
extremist religion, and they aren’t far off. Truth is, in our mindless battle
to support Islam against the Western practices, we often end up condemning
practices and concepts that are actually permitted. Consider the concept of education
for girls. Hadeeth says, “Education is compulsory for every Muslim, man or
woman”. Yet we maintain that girls should not get education. The concept of
girls and boys studying together. It is one of those things we love to hate, and
while it is not exactly favored in Islam, it’s not forbidden either, as long as
the students dress properly and obey the limits. Then some people tend to limit
religion to language. They consider it wrong to converse in languages such as
Hebrew, the language of the Jews. But one must understand that it is not the
language that is bad, rather the things were said in them. Conversing in Hebrew
would not automatically be bad, or wrong. The perfect analogy to explain this
scenario is to consider Islam as a pond of clear water; the perfect religion, a
complete code of life. But what we tend to do is fill a cup of water from this
pond, and make it the extent of our religion. Can the people be blamed for
calling Islam an extremist religion then?
This small, trivial thought provides a possible answer to a
very crucial question very common nowadays: Islam is perfect, but Muslims are
not. Why is that? In my opinion, there is a difference between the Islam that
is and the Islam we follow. We only follow a small chunk of the whole religion
that is Islam. No one bothers to conduct a little research, to find out the
extent of what Islam demands and offers outside of religious practices. Islam
is perfect, but Muslims are not? No. The Islam we follow is not perfect. How
then, can the Muslims be perfect?
