Footprints in the Sand: Lessons from the Pious | Muftī Azeemuddin Ahmed | 03/02

Opening Supplications

Recap: The Ramadan of the Elders

Yesterday we went through the stories of Mawlānā Khalīl Ahmad Sahāranpūrī, and Ajeeb Ilādullāh Muhājir Makkī, and Shaykhul Hind, and how their Ramadan was spent, and how their nights of Ramadan were spent. We also compared it to what's happening today, and we spent some time discussing some of the modern-day trials and issues that the Muslim community is facing in terms of Ramadan, making the most use of Ramadan.

We hope, we pray, we beg Allah that He allows these stories to inspire all of us, inshāAllāh, to ensure that every remaining moment and day and night of Ramadan is spent in the most powerful and beneficial manner. And we ask Allah that He not allow this to become a proof against us, but rather a proof for us. Allāhumma āmīn.

Mawlānā Hussain Ahmad Madanī: Spiritual Strength Through Ramadan

Regarding Mawlānā Hussain Ahmad Madanī, he said, I have narrated the daily routine of Mawlānā Hussain Ahmad Madanī for the month of Ramadan in detail in the book The Ramadan of the Elders. I was very blunt, so once Shaykh al-Hadīth passed the comment that Mawlānā Hussain Ahmad Madanī is so obsessed with Congress, though Hājī Imdādullāh, Mawlānā Rashīd Ahmad Gangohī, and Shaykhul Hind have entrusted you with some work — I have narrated the whole incident in detail somewhere. Hazrat did not say a word and listened attentively.

When I had finished my rant, he still had not lost any of his cool. He looked at me and said, I'm not ignorant of what you say. That is why I spend my Ramadan in Bangladesh, in Sylhet, because the people of UP have no mind to do anything. I spend my Ramadan there — that is, in Bangladesh — in peace. I receive no newspapers and hear no political discussions. This entire incident has been narrated in detail in The Ramadan of the Elders.

Thereafter, it became his habit to save the letters he received from his disciples regarding their spiritual exercises, devotions, and dhikr in his travel bag and present them to me whenever he came to Sahāranpur. Handing them to me once, he said, Here, read these. I was stunned. Some of them had a daily routine of 125,000 times of dhikr daily, and likewise, other exhaustive devotions.

What he is speaking about here is — and this is the beauty of our ulamā of our tradition — Mawlānā Hussain Ahmad Madanī was not only a person who was an expert at the books that he taught. He was not only an expert at the fatwā that he wrote. He was not only an expert in exegesis of the Qur'an. He was not only an expert in spiritual development, reformation, dhikr, tasbīh, du'ā, tahajjud — which we've been hearing — but along with that, was very much involved in the political movements. He was very much involved in the liberation of the Indian community from the shackles of colonialism. And he played a very big, vital role in that.

And so subhānAllāh, this is something very interesting for us to learn and to remind ourselves that our deen, once again, like I spoke about last night, is supremely comprehensive. It's not only about huqūq and the rights of Allah. It's about the rights of human beings. It joins worship, teaching, learning, and also the effort to establish and to fight on behalf of civil liberties, to fight on behalf of human rights, to fight on behalf of the rights of the oppressed ones, and those who are regarded as downtrodden in society.

That was part of the tradition of Rasulullāh ﷺ. As mentioned, that he would always be standing on tu'īn ul-mazlūm — the Prophet ﷺ would help and assist those who were oppressed.

And so this is what you see. Mawlānā Hussain Ahmad Madanī rahimahullāh would be very involved in that effort. We talk about Congress here — I'm talking about the political party in India called Congress, which still exists today. So Shaykh Zakariyyā rahimahullāh was going back and forth with Mawlānā Madanī: I don't understand why you are supporting Congress while others are supporting other parties. Because there was a very big difference within our ulamā on the question of whether it was in the best interest for the Muslim community — spread across the larger Indian subcontinent — to have a separate Muslim country called Pakistan, or whether it would be against their interest. And there was ijtihād. People made the effort. People thought this would be better. Some people thought that would be better.

So he's listening to Shaykh Zakariyyā going back and forth on this. And the remarkable thing about Mawlānā Hussain Ahmad Madanī is how calm he stayed. You know, when you attack someone's political views, it becomes very tough for a person to keep himself cool and collected. Especially not somebody like you and I who are sitting on the side doing nothing, just talking about politics. A person who spent years of his life dedicated to a certain cause and supporting a certain viewpoint in politics — and then for someone to come and say, "Why are you doing this? I totally disagree with you. Look at the other people, they're on that side, why are you on this side?" So it's very tough to be able to absorb and quietly listen with forbearance. But subhānAllāh, he did that.

And then he says: That is why in the month of Ramadan, I don't stick around here in India and UP. I go to Bangladesh where all this political stuff is not happening. It's a whole different country. These discussions are not happening. And I go to i'tikāf there. In the i'tikāf, I receive no newspapers and do not hear any political discussions.

Meaning: in order for me to remain calm right now, what have I done? I've built myself spiritually to be able to handle this type of situation. Where do you build yourself spiritually? In the month of Ramadan — in i'tikāf, or even outside of i'tikāf. But the month of Ramadan is to spiritually build ourselves. Then if someone says something really mean and nasty to you, you'll be able to handle it with calmness.

How often do you and I find that we simply can't keep our cool? We're so quick to answer, so quick to frown, so quick to slam the door, so quick to get upset, so quick to get frustrated. Because what's happening? Our nafs is out of control. The month of Ramadan is to chisel away at that nafs and to bring it down to ground level, ground zero. Come down — you're nobody. Where does that happen? That happens through excessive fasting in the month of Ramadan, back to back to back; lots of qiyāmul layl, lots of tahajjud, lots of crying, humbling ourselves in front of Allah, humiliating ourselves in front of Allah, saying: yā Allāh, I'm nobody, I'm nothing. This plays a very big role in weakening the nafs. And when the nafs gets weakened, then it's easy to be able to handle things that are not going your way. It's easy to handle differing opinions without losing our cool.

The Wisdom of Limiting News Consumption in Ramadan

So this is how he mentioned that he would spend his Ramadan away from these discussions. So in reality, if we want to help the world right now with all the chaos that's happening, then the best way to do that is to not spend time reading the news. The more time we spend watching Instagram, and seeing what's happening in the bombings, and the shocking this and that — WhatsApp videos being forwarded, YouTube and everything else — the less time we will have to focus on du'ā and dhikr. Because we only have 24 hours in a day, and you only have a certain amount of bandwidth for which you can remain focused. So the amount of time we spend watching the screen is time taken away from the recitation of the Qur'an and du'ā.

We know what's happening. It's horrible. Once in a while, just read the headlines. You don't need to watch it. Just read the headlines if you need to, to get yourself motivated to make du'ā, or hear it from someone. Many of our mashāyikh, subhānAllāh, they don't read news, they don't ever pick up a newspaper — but they know everything. Why is that? Because people come and tell them.

This is the khulāsah. My honourable Ustādh Muftī Radaul Haqq Hāfidhahullāh Ta'ālā — when we used to go visit him after 'Asr, with my brother, and sometimes after 'Ishā as well, to spend time with him — we used to always talk about current events. He himself was very particular. As one of the main muftīs of the subcontinent, māshāAllāh, he would have his small shortwave radio — and every day, twice, you could hear it outside of his house from the glass window. At 5pm the world report would come, and maybe sometimes in the evening at 9 o'clock. But we'd have a lot of discussions.

SubhānAllāh, it was very interesting that Hazrat Muftī Sāhib hāfidhahullāh would be so engaged in political discussions. He had such a good knowledge of what was happening. And it is important for scholars, and it is important for people who are speaking on these topics, that they be well-informed. If your job is to give advice, or to give a framework to people who are involved in politics, and they're coming to ask you for guidance — then naturally a person has to be well-read and up-to-date on these issues.

But for the vast majority of us, that's not our case. We are not in a position where people are asking our opinions on things. We're not in a position of guiding people on how to handle certain matters in fine, nuanced detail. The major things — of course, some big events have happened, and as a scholar or the imam of any masjid, we can give guidance to our community on that. But a lot of times we're reading as though we are the one who has to make a 9pm conference call, and we've got to make the decision with all the world's decision-makers who are waiting for me to come share my final decision on whether we should go right or go left.

So no. What is more important than that is that I spend my energy and save it and use it with the Book of Allah. Save it in du'ā. We know that 160-plus girls have been killed in the very first hour of this horrific beginning of a new wave of war. And that is something sufficient for us to shed tears. It is sufficient for us to feel the pain of the loss of innocent life. SubhānAllāh.

And it's so disturbing, when you lose your humanity, how you speak. I was reading some of the things that people are saying. It says: no, this has all been caused by — even if the Americans and Israelis actually bombed it — first of all, it's probably fake. Nothing probably happened like that. Probably they just made it up. Number two, they probably did it themselves to gain sympathy. They bombed their own school and killed all 160 of their own little girls in fourth and fifth grade to gain the sympathy of the world — while simultaneously the rest of the thousand sites were being bombed. Third, even if the Americans and Israelis did it, they don't take the blame. The blame goes right back to the others, because of just who they are.

I'm reading very senior analysts who hold very high positions in the country writing this. SubhānAllāh. Even if it happened — well, guess what? It's not our fault. It's your fault. Because of who you are. So now you know you're not speaking to humans. You're speaking to not even animals.

Allah says: they are like livestock — no, they are more astray than livestock. Honestly, who can try to legitimize the killing of 160 children? Some of the experts are saying this is the largest one-day killing of school-age girls in the history of warfare — not this particular conflict, not this decade — the entire recorded history of warfare. There has not been an incident where this many young girls have been killed in one moment, in one strike. And you might be hearing about this for the first time from me. Maybe some of you listening online don't even know what I'm talking about. You know why? Because it's nowhere to be seen on the news. It's buried all the way at the bottom.

So now I have given you enough — enough for you and I to sit and cry about. Enough for you to make du'ā at Maghrib time, suhūr time, iftār time, and between the four rak'āt of Tarāwīh — dedicating whatever recitation and reading to the believers across the globe, to the oppressed believers across the globe. SubhānAllāh.

Honestly, it is sufficient. Now, as they say:

What happens is that sometimes a person becomes aware of the whole world, except for his own world. He's aware of everything happening across the entire globe — what's happening to oil, what's the price of crude, what are the various stocks, what is the dollar against some other currencies — he knows everything. But when it comes to our own condition of heart, we are unaware.

We don't want that. That is why there has to be some time in Ramadan where we separate ourselves from news. Separate ourselves from video games. Separate ourselves from cricket. Separate ourselves from whatever you like that is a distraction. There has to be a time when there is no white noise, there is no any noise — just quiet, just us and Allah. And Ramadan, especially during the last 10 days of i'tikāf, is an ideal time for that.

For those of us who are traveling, or work, or simply cannot take off all 10 days for school, etc. — at least we can do i'tikāf from our distractions. Social media, news, sports — whatever those things are, just cut it out. And inshāAllāh say: till 'Eid I am out from these distractions. AlhamdulillāAllāh there are a number of students who have turned off their phones during Ramadan for the whole month, saying, we don't want to be distracted. Even if we don't turn off our phones, we can at least say that we're not going to be reading news, or watching sports, or playing video games, or anything else that is a distraction for us.

The Sponge Analogy: Scholars and Spiritual Renewal

Regarding Mawlānā Abdul Qādir Rāipūrī — he said he had given him a whole bunch of letters. All the letters he had received in Ramadan, he'd carry them and say, I'm going to read them afterwards. I can't be answering questions right now. In order for me to help people, I have to help myself first.

The example of a scholar and a shaykh, or a mentor, or a father or mother, is like that of a sponge. If you keep washing the dishes, what happens? The dishes come clean, and the most stinky thing in your kitchen is no longer the dish — it's the sponge. The sponge itself becomes extremely dirty. Have you ever seen a stinky sponge? It took the dirt from all the dirty dishes. As dads and moms, as parents, as shuyūkh, as teachers, as murabbīs, we're always going after and helping our sons and daughters, helping our students. But in the process of that, we have to understand that filth from them also comes upon us. And hence, we have to have downtime for our own rectification, our own islāh.

Whoever, mom and dad out there, is listening, whose children are in high school, 'ālim school, etc. — I encourage you. AlhamdulillāAllāh, may Allah reward your son or daughter who is studying in the madrasa for 11 or 12 months of the year. But in order for you to be ahead of the game — ahead of your son or daughter — you also have to do something. And i'tikāf is one beautiful thing.

But all those dads and all those moms of hāfidhāt and huffādh, and those who are currently memorising — my advice and encouragement to you is to make niyyah of i'tikāf. Because if we do not keep on nurturing our soul and building our own strong isti'dād and capacity, pretty soon our kids will be ahead of us — which will be like the train carriages in front of the locomotive. How is that going to work? The carriages have to be behind the locomotive, behind the engine — not the other way around. So if the kids are ahead of the parents, if the students are ahead of the teachers, then that's going to be a problem.

So he would carry all these letters that he had received but not opened, to read afterwards. Then he came and gave them to Shaykh Zakariyyā rahimahullāh. Here, look — these are all the letters from my students, look. So Shaykh Zakariyyā says: I looked through it, and I saw — wow! There are some of his students who are doing dhikr 125,000 times a day — اللَّه، اللَّه، اللَّه، اللَّه — writing in a letter: we are doing 125,000 times, now what do we do next? And it is amazing how those who tread a certain path and make an effort — where Allah allows them to reach.

Mawlānā Abdul Qādir Rāipūrī: The Nūr of Iftār

The last story in this section on fasting is mentioned regarding Mawlānā Abdul Qādir Rāipūrī. He says: Mawlānā Abdul Qādir remained ill until the end of his life. But even then, maintained silence in his private chamber. I mentioned one incident like this in The Ramadan of the Elders. According to my routine, I recited one juz after Dhuhr, and departed from Bāhith House — the residence where Mawlānā Abdul Qādir was temporarily residing for treatment. Altāf Bhai, one of the Shaykh's personal attendants, had allocated a small area in the private chamber for me. I would enter there quietly, and warn the attendants not to inform the Shaykh of my arrival.

One day I came as usual and sat in my retreat as the Shaykh took his medicine. After 'Asr, I saw — and was dazzled by — an amazing amount of light like I had never seen before. I wondered: if this is the state of some people's iftār, one can only imagine what their fast must be like. SubhānAllāh.

What is he saying? Shaykh Zakariyyā is saying: I stood quietly in the room of Mawlānā Abdul Qādir Rāipūrī rahimahullāh. I did not want anyone to make special ikrām for me. I did not want anyone to say, "Oh, Shaykh Zakariyyā is here — let us make space for him." And first of all, I want to share with you: how many of the stories we're reading mention the sickness of the elders? If you've been following along, every single one of these mashāyikh suffered — what? Sickness.

SubhānAllāh. Part of the status that Allah gives to the pious people is that He puts them through tests. And so these most pious individuals suffered so much sickness — as you saw, Mawlānā Ilyās could not drink water for seven years. Because of the sickness, the hakīm — the doctor of natural medicine — said no. So how much they suffered in the process of this, but they kept quiet.

So anyway, Mawlānā Abdul Qādir Rāipūrī was in a place where he was receiving treatment, and Shaykh Zakariyyā says: I quietly went there after 'Asr and sat there. Iftār time comes — and what do I see? I see massive amounts of nūr where Mawlānā Abdul Qādir Rāipūrī is sitting in front of the food. So what a comment he makes. He says: if there is so much nūr at the time of iftār, how much nūr must there be when they are fasting? It's my fast, your fast — we're both not eating. But what a difference between our fast and their fast. May Allah allow us to get the tawfīq to fast like this. And to get the tawfīq to spend Ramadan like this. Allāhumma āmīn.

Zakāt: The Generosity of the Elders

So having that section completed — what else do we do in Ramadan besides fasting and prayer? What do most people calculate? The zakāt, right? So let's talk about that.

The first section on zakāt — Mawlānā Ilyās rahimahullāh said: To the best of my knowledge, zakāt never became obligatory on any one of my elders. Zakāt never became obligatory — at least in their earlier years. Meaning they never kept money in their pocket or account to that level upon which zakāt would become fard. It's not that they were poor. They would have money, business, or something else passed down from their families. But they would always be giving it, giving it — to a degree that there was not enough in the account upon which zakāt would become obligatory.

The Postcard Story

Two stories are well-known about my uncle Mawlānā Ilyās.

Number one: He says, once he sent a letter from Nizāmuddīn — the markaz of da'wah near Delhi — to me. And he said: I have wanted to write to you a letter for many days but did not have the funds. I did not feel right about taking a loan for the sake of a letter. Today I received some funds and I am sending a postcard. In those days, sending a postcard cost only two paisā — about two cents. He did not have two cents to send a postcard.

The Gular Story

The second story told about him is the famous Gular story. I'm not a witness to this incident, but it was shared with me by my relative who was the imam of a masjid in Delhi.

These were Hazrat Mawlānā Ilyās rahmatullāhi alayhi's first years. The work of tablīgh had yet not started. My relative thought Hazrat was the shaykh of Delhi and thus must receive delicious foods in Ramadan. He said: my relative was an imam and he thought Mawlānā Ilyās is now a big famous shaykh, so probably people send him a lot of good food. He arrived in Nizāmuddīn where Hazrat Mawlānā Ilyās was staying, at 'Asr time.

It was Hazrat's routine to do dhikr loudly from 'Asr to Maghrib — dhikr jahrī, loudly from 'Asr to Maghrib. At iftār he would ask the attendants if there was anything to eat. If anything was available, they would present it to him, and that would be his iftār and dinner — he did not have a light iftār and a large meal. It was all one thing.

Anyhow, when the time of iftār came, Hazrat asked his attendants: Is there anything to eat? The helpers replied: Hazrat, nothing but the gular from yesterday. My uncle Mawlānā Ilyās became so happy. He said: Great, perfect, bring it.

My relative — who had sat to spend time from 'Asr to Maghrib with Mawlānā Ilyās, thinking there would be a big spread — found nothing. There was nothing but some leftover stuff from yesterday. My half-hearted relative also joined Hazrat, ate four or five gular, drank a little water, and thanked Allah. That's it.

My uncle's habit was to eat before the Maghrib jamā'ah, and then after Maghrib stood up to recite Qur'an and nawāfil until 'Ishā. About 10 to 12 minutes before the adhān of 'Ishā he made salām — meaning that's how long his nāfil salāh was. All the way till 10 minutes before 'Ishā.

Usually now, our dinners — we have to say: hurry up, hurry up, 'Ishā is starting in the masjid. Even the good, committed brothers and sisters who want to pray 'Ishā in the masjid are still finishing up their dessert, or at least enjoying the sofa. They don't have time — they say, jaldī karo, we have to run, we have to make it for 'Ishā. Imagine: Maghrib to 'Ishā is just dinner for many people. Here, dinner is between the adhān of Maghrib and the jamā'ah of Maghrib — and then afterwards? Nawāfil. After performing nāfil salāh all the way till 10 minutes before 'Ishā, he made salām, and lay down in the masjid. The attendants massaged his feet, and then he rested until a few minutes before the jamā'ah started. Then he made his wudū and came forward to lead 'Ishā. He always led Tarāwīh himself, and recited at a calm pace. He completed in an hour and a half.

Meanwhile, my relative went inside and ate in the house. In the meantime, my uncle fell asleep almost immediately after Tarāwīh, and often said: I fall asleep so fast, I don't even recall putting my head on the pillow. When you tire yourself for the deen, that's what happens. SubhānAllāh — you just fall asleep.

My Shaykh, Mawlānā Khalīl Ahmad Sāhib, and my father had this unique ability to regulate their sleep. They could fall asleep whenever they wanted and wake up at whatever time they chose. Complete control over sleep.

In those days, my uncle would sleep and wake up at about midnight, which was his routine throughout the year. He attended to his washroom, made wudū, and the attendant boiled an egg or two for him. Then he stood up and prayed until 10 to 12 minutes before dawn. SubhānAllāh — from midnight all the way till 10 to 12 minutes before subh sādiq, till Fajr time begins. And then he would ask the attendants: Is there anything for suhūr? They said: the gulars from last night. He ate four or five and took a few sips of water.

My poor relative, seeing this, decided it was time for him to leave Nizāmuddīn and go back to Delhi. This is too much — I can't handle this. He came to Hazrat after Fajr and asked to leave. But my uncle laughed — knowing why he wished to leave — and refused. He explained that he had work to attend to and many errands to run. But Hazrat refused and said: Not today. My relative thought: What was I thinking when I came here? I'm stuck here — and Mawlānā Ilyās is not letting me go.

The second day after 'Asr, according to his daily routine, he was busy in loud dhikr. My relative was dreading the sight of the gular for iftār again. Shortly before Maghrib, a big pot of chicken biryani from Delhi was carried into the khānqāh. Suddenly the whole masjid became filled with a spicy aroma. My uncle said at iftār: Come, brother Latīf, the biryani came especially for you. For us is the gular.

Allāhu Akbar. We're going to sit and eat whatever leftover fruits there are, whatever leftover snacks there are — and you can have the biryani. Honestly, this is something truly remarkable. Allah treats us based on our weakness. When you travel with the elders and mashāyikh, when they're on their own, their journey is so much harder, and they are hard on themselves. But when they have young people and weak people like ourselves with them — then you'll see things just change. Because they don't want you to run away, and Allah also doesn't want you to run away. So then changes happen based on our needs.

Trials and the Pious: The More Deen, the More Tests

Why is Allah putting these pious people through such sickness? The Prophet ﷺ said:

(Sunan al-Tirmidhī, Hadith 2398; also recorded in Sunan Ibn Mājah, Hadith 4023)

Indeed, those who go through the most difficulty are the prophets. The ones who go through the most challenge, اللَّهُمَّ صَلِّ عَلَى مُحَمَّدٍ وَعَلَى آلِهِ وَسَلِّمْ, are the prophets. And then there are those who come after them in piety, and then those who come after them in piety. A man is tested based on the strength of his deen. If he has stronger deen, his tests are increased. And if his deen is weak, then the difficulty is also decreased — until the time comes when he is walking on this earth with not a single sin remaining.

That is why — if you don't have much difficulty, thank Allah and be mindful. Yā Allāh, I'm not asking for difficulty — I would never do that. But at the same time, let me not be mistaken that this absence of difficulty means You are pleased with me. This absence of difficulty should not mean that I'm being pulled in istidrāj, pulled towards the hellfire. Rather, immense amounts of shukr should be done. Immense amounts of shukr. So that you say: yā Allāh, although AlhamdulillāAllāh You did not test me, I'm not going to enter through the door of sabr — I'm going to enter through the door of shukr.

Mawlānā Hussain Ahmad Madanī: Frugality and the Fear of Debt

The story of Mawlānā Hussain Ahmad Madanī: If Shaykhul Islām Mawlānā Hussain Ahmad Madanī ever happened to travel from Deoband to Peshawar or Calcutta, he would say: I only purchased the ticket up to Sahāranpur because I don't have the funds to go any further. Then I would loan him money so he could continue on his journey. Sometimes literally I had nothing to loan him, but my whole life ran on loans — I quickly borrowed from someone and passed the money on to him. When he received his funds, he dispatched a messenger with a money order and fees to repay me.

When he stopped over on his return trip, I argued with him — as this was my usual habit — Why purchase a money order and pay fees? Wouldn't this fall under the definition of muwālāt? You could have paid me in person upon your return. Hazrat's response was always the same: Death could come at any time. I quipped: Why, yes, of course — I would have grabbed you by the collar on the Day of Judgment demanding that you pay my loan, wouldn't I?

The general opinion was that Mawlānā Hussain Ahmad Madanī only borrowed from Shaykh al-Hadīth because no one else would loan him money in Deoband. That may have been a credible reason, except for the fact that Hazrat had known me since I was 12, and thus felt more comfortable borrowing from me.

There are so many anecdotes about the harsh conditions Mawlānā Hussain Ahmad Madanī faced upon his migration to Madīnah al-Munawwarah that I don't even know where to begin. But if anyone would like to read it in full detail, they can read the book called Naqsh-e-Hayāt.

What happened here? He's going on a train — why is he going? He's running around for what? To go visit relatives? He's going doing jalasāt, doing programs, creating awareness within the Muslims about the political plight. He's so worried — how can I sit back and watch while the Muslims are being harmed? So he'd be traveling back and forth throughout the undivided subcontinent. But sometimes he would buy the ticket only halfway. And he would say: I bought the ticket till Sahāranpur, for example, but I do not have money further. That's why I haven't bought the ticket further.

Shaykh Zakariyyā rahimahullāh would be next to him. He would say: Oh Shaykh, can you please loan me some money? He would give it to him, happily. And then Mawlānā Hussain Ahmad Madanī would try his best to send a money order and return it. When you send a money order, you have to pay the transaction fees. So he would tell him: why are you paying all these fees, when you could have given it to me in person? Have you heard someone say: why are you paying by credit card to the masjid? Pay in cash, pay by check, pay by ACH — why let 2% or 3% go to a random credit card company? But we say: no, I want points. If you really want points, then add extra money. So he says: look at how frugal he was.

Mawlānā Hussain Ahmad Madanī was borrowing money for the work of deen. And at the same time, he was paying it back as soon as possible, even if it meant an added cost. Because he did not want to be maqrūd, and did not want to be owing somebody for any long period of time. He does not want to be held accountable on the Day of Judgment.

So Shaykh Zakariyyā rahimahullāh says: No problem — what do you think, I was going to hold you by your neck on the Day of Judgment? He says: Oh, I owed you money, what do you think I'd do? Look at the way he dealt with the matter of ensuring that he is borrowing money for the work of deen — and at the same time, paying it back as soon as possible. Because he does not want to be owing somebody for any long period of time.

And then he says: the time when Mawlānā Hussain Ahmad Madanī traveled to Makkah al-Mukarramah and Madīnah al-Munawwarah — the difficulty he went through there — he said, that's too much, that requires another whole conversation. Of a person who had so much, so many people who knew him, such great standing — and yet, how much he gave that all up, and went to Madīnah al-Munawwarah.

Closing Du'ā

We ask Allah that He grants us the beautiful qualities that have been mentioned. Make all of us — men and women — of taqwā, of tahārah. Make us men and women of salāh and zakāt. And make us amongst those whom Allah would like to see in the manner that is pleasing to Him.

InshāAllāh, we can please proceed downstairs for iftār.