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Can the Track Be Found Again?

A bright and cheery lady
Led her life happily
By practising her deen religiously,
Trying to please her Lord meticulously.

She could be seen volunteering regularly
And conducting workshops occasionally;
While attending Islamic classes punctually,
She stood out in academics excellently.

“I want to become a doctor,” she declared,
“To become an asset for this ummah,” she cleared,
Thus began the journey of toil and labour―
Getting into medical school wasn’t an easy endeavour.

Volunteering activities got stopped,
Her Islamic classes were paused;
In the hope of resuming them once again,
She worked like a Trojan night and day.

She gave the exam fearfully,
Pleading to her Lord desperately,
Ya Kareem, please grant me victory!”
Ya Raheem, please have mercy!”

When the results were announced,
She jumped and pounced;
Her Rabb, to her pleading, had responded―
With a racing heart, med-school, she finally entered.

Initial days passed by frantically:
Trying to handle dissection classes in Anatomy,
Performing Folin-Wu and other tests in Biochemistry,
And pricking finger for experiments of Haematology!

Surrounded by dozens of new faces all around,
Belonging to different religions and backgrounds,
A big change in her life to which she tried adjusting,
Amidst non-Muslim cultures, she kept struggling.

“So much free-mixing everywhere,
They call us to partake in pujas1 here,
Haram relationships, drugs, and alcohol addictions…
How do I avoid them while maintaining cordial relations?”

Repeated exposure got her desensitised,
What was once unusual, now seemed normalised;
Though, to her Islamic principles, she firmly held,
There was a void that she constantly felt.

Her mind would often go back to those days,
When she helped others and worked on herself;
Her heart, which used to have clarity,
Was now obscured with doubts and uncertainty.

“I’m just bumped with the books!
I want to go back to that golden phase!”
Tears dripped from her cheeks,
The longing of the heart was evidently seen.

No longer willing to succumb,
She called up her mentor,
“I’m in dire need, dear teacher,
Your student is falling, please save her!”

“All my high aspirations have vanished,
My previous activities couldn’t be restarted!
This med-school life got me vanquished,
A toxic environment has me surrounded!”

“I hear you, my dear,
But first, let me get a few answers.
What is it that’s bothering you exactly?
I hope you are praying regularly?”

Alhamdulillah, I do pray regularly.
I want to get back to my Islamic studies,
I want to get back to my volunteering activities.
With this career, it seems quite an impossibility!”

“My dear child, listen carefully:
Indeed, this profession requires assiduity,
But once you prioritise things rightly,
You’ll see it all come together neatly.”

“Yes, things won’t be as before,
For change is a constant;
A bare minimum time, you can manage for sure,
For beyond its capacity, Allah never burdens a soul.”

“You’ve said it rightly,
May you be blessed by Allah immensely,
I’ll act on your advice surely.”
With salam, she hung up, soothed finally.

She sat at her table, scheduling,
“Half an hour per day for Qur’an recitation,
On weekends, I’ll go to the Islamic centre;
O Allah! Please accept these little actions!”

She joined an online Islamic website,
Where her poem-writing skills were utilised;
She would be seen in an Islamic class weekly,
Teaching small kids their deen joyfully.

To learn the Tafseer,
She referred to Ibn Katheer;
For the knowledge of the Seerah,
There was the Sealed Nectar.

She listened to online speakers,
Who referred to the classical scholars;
She would often check the shared references
To confirm if they were from authentic sources.

Though her schedule got a bit tighter,
She was satisfied and felt lighter;
When her Rabb was pleased, what did it matter,
For repose will be done in Jannah, In sha Allah!

Puja is a worship ceremony that is carried out by Hindus, Buddhists, and Jains.

Written by: Zubia Nausheen
Edited by: The Editorial Team
© The Islamic Reflections Blog

1 thought on “Can the Track Be Found Again?

  1. Maashallaah empathetic poem with wonderful words that decorated

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