My life as a borderline fanatic

When I go through my pictures of the days when I was extremely religious I find a stranger in what was once me. I don’t open up about those years, may be because that invite consternations from both sides. The religious ones shake their heads as to express a sorrow that a devout Muslim strayed away from the right path. And the areligious or modestly religious ones make faces at what kind of thinking I had and the usual, “How you could be like that!” But I was like that. I was like that for eight years of my life. I spent most part of my youth with that thinking and I have to be open about that.

I feel disconnected with those eight years of my life. I find no affinity to that self of mine. And this invokes feelings from a wide spectrum, from guilt to remorse to waste to frustration to alienation… life was different, waking up well before sunrise, going to the hostel mosque and calling Azaan and then waiting for other students to gather and saying prayers together, reciting Quran after that, having Miswak in hands all the time, raised Shalwar as to be humble, wearing a cap all the time though the Hadiths in its support are few but wearing all the time to be true to the path I had chosen… Reading all the Tafsirs and Hadiths while being in ablution, praising God (doing Zikr) all the time under my sealed lips, reciting Quran two times each day, leading the prayers at some time when it was required (I considered myself not to have a good faith and thus will avoid being the Imam). Waiting for Ramzan and praying most part of the night and reciting Quran 4,5 times each Ramzan was the goal every year. I didn’t listen to music in all these years; I would leave a room or a place if some music was playing. Movies were like small acts of Zina and thus I never ever set my eyes on them. The shortcut from our hostels to our department goes through Institute of Management Studies which had a sizeable number of female students. I would take the longer route so as to avoid setting my eyes on women and committing a sin. Misogyny was defined as piety then.

And Tabligh… Going from door to door and inviting people to take the path of Allah and forego this material and mortal world and instead focus on Akhirat, the eternal life. Being moved to tears by each sermon of Tariq Jamil, yearning to meet Junaid Jamshed and Saeed Anwar one day and be blessed by the Noor in their face. These were the ideals; they were the ideals, to be like them, to serve the faith like them one day. But I was different too. I used to ask questions. This curiosity, this wondering has never left me. I would read everything and question everything, until one day the questions didn’t have any answers and the people I used to sit with started avoiding me because of my questions. Being left alone by the people I considered to be my spiritual-mates left me no other way but to seek answers myself and that changed everything!

What I make of those years? Were they a waste of precious years of my life or were they part of my journey? I like to think that they were important in many ways. I saw everything from very close. The serenity, the calm induced after prayers, the sense of being sinful and seeking forgiveness of the lord all the time, crying to him in long Sijda, have made me experience the spiritual reality and religious reality from my inside. I don’t want to contest whether that was real or otherwise, but it appeared real. And now I know that those same feelings can be produced from many other sources. I busied myself with Islamic literature all those years and I developed understanding of theology and religion, in a narrow sense but an understanding nonetheless. I have lived that life to such extreme that now I feel piety and modesty to be too overrated concepts. And yes, this has given me freedom. Freedom from falling prey to dogmas and be insistent that salvation is needed and that everyone must strive for salvation.

What this journey has given me is my contempt for self-righteousness. I was self-righteous. I considered my way to be the only true way and instead of reasoning would invoke the wrath of the almighty or his blessings to invite people to my way of life. Now, whenever I am talking I know, but rather believe that I may be wrong and I accept that without any qualm. Whenever I find myself a bit arrogant over my point, I check myself and run all the reasons and evidences in my head to counter-check. Instead of establishing the truth and seeing everyone blindly follow the truth, now, I want to explore the truth. And those years have made me to accept everyone. No matter how conservative or religious anyone is, I still show them the respect that they as humans deserve. I believe that reason can be the guide for everyone if they want to take its guidance. I was like them, they can be like me.

Those were years of quest, of living the truth as was told to me from childhood, in Madrassa, in school, in streets, in home. Who doesn’t want to be good at the faith which they believe in? Perhaps, this is the way I am programmed that I have to live the ideas and values I believe in. I make effort every day to move towards the ideals which inspire me. At that time the religion as I understood was the inspiration and I took every hardship upon myself to fulfill the call of my beliefs and ideals. And that I do even today. Today I aspire to an equal for all, progressive and tolerant society, where freedom of expression is sacrosanct. Yes, I feel guilty that some of people may have joined Tabligh because of me and I feel ashamed for my attitude towards women and the blatant misogyny that I would display, but those were the things that I was brainwashed with and which I made myself to come out of. Yes, I could have spent all those years of youth doing fun things, but I rather read all the religious books I could find. Instead of late-night music gatherings I would either pray or would be asleep, so, not to miss the morning prayers, but that has given me a lifetime of freedom where I can listen to as much music as I want.

Those eight years weren’t wasted and I don’t regret them as many of the people who know me from that time recall with a sigh in their voice, “Oh! You were Aamir sb.” Those eight years gave me freedom. Those eight years instilled in me that I can be wrong and that I have to be gracious to the ones who prove me wrong. And the struggle to leave that way of life made me strong. That was a fight at three fronts: With myself, with my family, and with the judgment of people who knew me and the whole society. But I conquered my fears of everyone and chose a lifestyle that I wanted to.