Tag Archive | stories

‘Umar Ibn Al-Khattaab’s Son Marries A Milkmaid

One night, Caliph Umar as usual went in disguise with his companion Ibn Abbas to see the condition of the people. They strolled from one quarter to another. At last they came to a colony where poor people lived.

While passing by a small house, the Caliph heard a whispering talk within. The mother was telling her daughter that the amount of milk fetched by her for sale that day was very little. She told her that when she was young, and used to sell milk, she always mixed water with milk, and that led to considerable profit. She advised her daughter to do the same.

The girl said, “You adulterated milk, when you were not a Muslim. Now that we are Muslims, we cannot adulterate milk.” The mother said that Islam did not stand in the way of adulteration of milk. The daughter said, “Have you forgotten the Caliph’s order? He wants that the milk should not be adulterated.” The mother said, “But the Caliph has forgotten us. We are so poor, what else should we do but adulterate milk in order win bread?” The daughter said “Such a bread would not be lawful, and as a Muslim I would not do anything which is against the orders of the Caliph, and whereby other Muslims are deceived.”

The mother said, “But there is neither the Caliph nor any of his officers here to see what we do. Daughter you are still a child. Go to bed now and tomorrow I will myself mix the milk with water for you.” The girl refused to fall in with the plan of her mother. She said, “Caliph may or may not be here, but his order must be obeyed. My conscience is my Caliph. You may escape the notice of the Caliph and his officers, but how can we escape the notice of Allah and our own conscience.” Thereupon the mother remained quiet. The lamp was extinguished and the mother and the daughter went to sleep.

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The Damage Has Already Been Done – Story Of A Bad Tempered Boy

There once was a little boy who had a bad temper. His father gave him a bag of nails and told him that every time he lost his temper, he must hammer a nail into the back of the fence.

The first day the boy had driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next few weeks, as he learned to control his anger, the number of nails hammered daily gradually dwindled down. He discovered it was easier to hold his temper than to drive those nails into the fence.

Finally, the day came when the boy didn’t lose his temper at all. He told his father about it and the father suggested that the boy now pull out one nail for each day that he was able to hold his temper!

The days passed and the young boy was finally able to tell his father that all the nails were gone. The father took his son by the hand and led him to the fence He said, “You have done well, my son, but look at the holes in the fence. The fence will never be the same. When you say things in anger, they leave a scar just like this one. You can put a knife in a man and draw it out. It won’t matter how many times you say “I’m sorry”, the wound is still there. A verbal wound is as bad as a physical one.

{{MashaaAllaah I had to put this on. Like I always say, a simple “Sorry” doesn’t really mean much, one needs to show that he or she is sorry for his past actions.}}

The Unknown Deceased’s Prayer

One day, Ibbaan Ibn Saaleh left the company of Anas Ibn Maalik (ra) and began to walk in th emarketplace, when suddenly, four men carrying a bier with a corpse on it passed by.

Ibbaan then exclaimed, “Strange indeed! The marketplaces of Basrah are filled with people, yet only four people are following this funeral procession; verily I wioll make it five.

Before they reached the graveyard, and when it was time to pray over the deceased, Ibbaan asked the others, “Who among you is the gardian (or relative) of the deceased, so that he can led the funeral prayer?

The others answered in unison, “In terms of closeness to the deceased, we are all equal. So you (i.e., Ibbaan) lead the prayer.

They prayed over the deceased, finished their march to the graveyard, and buried the corpse. When all was said and done, Ibbaan asked, “I ask you by Allaah, tell me the truth about this dead person (we just buried).

They said, “None of us knows the story of this dead person; we are simply workers; a woman paid us to carry the corpse (and to bury it).

Ibbaan turned around and saw a woman approaching the grave they had just dug; she sat over the grave for a while and then stood up, laughing. After going up to her, Ibbaan said, “By Allaah, this is strange indeed! A woman laughing over the grave of her deceased (relative or friend).

Why are you praying into that which does not concern you?” the woman said.

Inform me (about what just happened),” insisted Ibbaan. “Indeed I am Ibbaan, servant of Anas Bin Maalik (ra), who was the servant of the Messenger of Allaah.

Had it not been for the fact that you are who you are, O Ibbaan, I would never have told you my story. The deceased (in the grave) is my son. He was a reckless person who did wrong to his own self. Last night he became very sick, and so he called me to him. When I went to him, he requested (as a dying man) that I follow all his instructions. I told him to say anything, and that I would comply with his wishes. he told me not to inform anyone about his death.

He then said, “When they place me into the grave, raise your hands to Allaah, and invoke Him to forgive me. And say; ‘O my God, I am indeed pleased with him, so You too be pleased with him.’ O my mother, stand up now, place your foot on my face, and say; ‘This is the reward of one who disobeys Allaah ‘Azza wa Jall (the Possessor of might and majesty).’

I did as he asked, and by the time I had lifted my foot from his face, he was dead. I then hired these four men to wash the corpse, enshroud it, carry it to its grave, and then to bury it. When they walked away, I approached the grave, raised my hands and said, ‘O Most Merciful of the merciful ones, O Most Generous of the generous ones, You indeed know our secret and open realities; indeed You know what is apparent and what is hidden. Indeed my sinning, erring son invoked You by dint of his poor humble mother being pleased with him. Indeed I am pleased with him, so You too be pleased with him.’ I then heard a voice from inside of the grave say to me, ‘Go, my mother, for I have returned to the Most Generous Lord, Who has indeed forgiven my sins.’ That is what made me laugh and walk away in such a happy state.

[Taken from “Glimpses Of The Lives Of Righteous People”, Darussalam publishing, Pp. 27-29, quoting from “Al-Mawaa’iz Wal-Majaalis”, p. 194-195]

Victims of Free Mixing. True stories

Lost hope

Umm Muhammad, a mature woman over the age of 40, tells her story.

I lived a life of modest means with my husband. There was never any closeness and harmony, and my husband did not have the kind of strong personality that a woman would hope for, but his good nature made me overlook the fact that I was the one who was responsible for most of the decision making in the family.

My husband often used to mention the name of his friend and business partner, and he would talk about him in my presence, and I often used to meet with him in his office which was originally part of our apartment. This went on for many years, until circumstances led to us exchanging visits with this person and his family. These family visits were repeated and because of his close friendship with my husband, we did not notice how the number of visits increased and how many hours a single visit would last. He often used to come on his own to sit with us, me and my husband, for long visits. My husband’s trust in him knew no bounds, and as days passed I got to know this person very well, and saw how wonderful and decent he was. I began to feel a strong attraction towards this man, and at the same time I began to sense that the feeling was mutual.

Things took a strange turn after that, when I realized that this man was the kind of person I had always dreamed about. Why had he come along now, after all these years? The more this man’s status increased in my eyes, the more my husband’s status diminished. It was as if I had needed to see the beauty of his character in order to discover how ugly my husband’s character was.

The matter between this person and myself did not go beyond these persistent thoughts which were occupying my mind night and day. Neither he nor I ever voiced what we felt in our hearts… until today. Yet despite that my life is over and my husband is little more than a weak man with no self-esteem. I hate him and I do not know how all this hatred towards him started to boil over. I wonder how I put up with him all these years, bearing all these burdens by myself, facing life’s problems on my own.

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Young. British. Female. Muslim.

Thousands of young British women living in the UK decide to convert to Islam – here are some of their stories

It’s a controversial time for British women to be wearing the hijab, the basic Muslim headscarf. Last month, Belgium became the first European country to pass legislation to ban the burka (the most concealing of Islamic veils), calling it a “threat” to female dignity, while France looks poised to follow suit. In Italy earlier this month, a Muslim woman was fined €500 (£430) for wearing the Islamic veil outside a post office.

And yet, while less than 2 per cent of the population now attends a Church of England service every week, the number of female converts to Islam is on the rise. At the London Central Mosque in Regent’s Park, women account for roughly two thirds of the “New Muslims” who make their official declarations of faith there – and most of them are under the age of 30.

Conversion statistics are frustratingly patchy, but at the time of the 2001 Census, there were at least 30,000 British Muslim converts in the UK. According to Kevin Brice, of the Centre for Migration Policy Research, Swansea University, this number may now be closer to 50,000 – and the majority are women. “Basic analysis shows that increasing numbers of young, university-educated women in their twenties and thirties are converting to Islam,” confirms Brice.

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One Apple Leads To His Marriage. A Beautiful Story!

One Apple Leads To His Marriage. A Beautiful Story!

* Please do read this – A wonderful story indeed *

One of our pious predecessors, Thabit Bin Nu’man, was hungry and tired as he was passing through a garden that bordered a river. He was so hungry that he could hear his stomach growling, and so his eyes became fixed on the fruits he saw on the various trees of the garden. In a fit of desperation, he forgot himself and extended his hand to an apple that was within reach. He ate half of it and then drank water from the river. But then he became overcome with guilt, despite the fact that he had only eaten because of dire need.

He said to himself, “Woe unto me! How can I eat someone else’s fruits without his permission? I make it binding upon myself not to leave this place until I find the owner of this garden and ask him to forgive me for having eaten one of his apples.

After a brief search, he found the owner’s house. He knocked on the door and the owner of the garden came out and asked him what he wanted.

Thabit Bin Nu’man said, “I entered your garden that borders the river, and I took this apple and ate half of it. Then I remembered it does not belong to me, and so I ask you now to excuse me for having eaten it and to forgive me for my mistake.

The man said, “On one condition only I will forgive you for your mistake.

Thabit Bin Nu’man asked, “And what is that condition?

He said, “That you marry my daughter.

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