Hi there! If you don't know who I am, my name is Riyad (but you may call me as Rags if you wish). I am your average teenager who loves to game, predominantly playing games like League of Legends and Rainbow Six Siege. I joined Steemit in October 2017 and I aim to post at least once a week (my studies often causes inconsistencies D:, but I am doing my best!). I hope you enjoy the post - Upvote if you do and be sure to comment on what I can do to improve!
I’m a Muslim boy, yet I can’t bring myself to believe in the presence of a superior deity (Allah, in my case). But there is one event that always makes me reconsider my thoughts about religion.
To give you some context, my family originate from Bangladesh, a small country located East of India and West of Myanmar (Formerly known as Burma). My family are entirely Islamic with a strong belief that our lives aren’t controlled or harnessed by the power of Allah, but rather, the deity is present to record and react to our every move and will eventually put our lifestyles under scrutiny in our judgement at the end of our lives.
I was born and raised on British soil (more specifically, I was raised in a small town called Potters Bar, a few miles north of the London outskirts), meaning that I was much more exposed to English culture compared to my native traditions and customs. Perhaps, this is why I couldn’t side with these beliefs and theories about the existence of a God of any sort. To me, I’ve always been on the fence because, frankly, I am a realist who only sees to truly believe in something.
Obviously, that raises questions like so what happens when you die? And how can you explain the formation of the Earth?; I simply just reply with the most mundane and logical response possible I can fester in my mind – it’s more beating around the bush, but I’d rather do that than give such a superficial answer (no disrespect to any religious people reading!).
From a very old fashioned and traditional family, it’s clear to see why they frowned upon me a little, but they were still very respectful and kind towards me, despite my differing beliefs. I was still taught how to read the Qur’an and encouraged to follow the conventional procedures in Islam, such as pray for 5 times a day. But still, this didn’t change my stance on God as I found the processes more of a pointless chore for me personally as I saw no results from it – again, due to my realist nature.
Photo of Me and my mum (2009)
The guidelines in the holy book felt more like mandatory rules that should be followed without hesitation, especially with how my parents enforced the rules onto me. There are obviously some good rules that attributed to me having a good personal code such as “Show forgiveness, Enjoin kindness, Avoid Ignorance” (Qur’an: Chapter 7, Verse 199 – Surah Al-A’raf), which I’m always grateful for being taught upon reflecting, but most quotes about Allah’s power and presence were disregarded by my younger self.
There was one day, however, that changed my life forever.
It was almost 9 years ago in June 2009 (It’s been too long to remember the date!). It was a hot summer day and I returned from a 2 hour session of badminton after my normal 9am-3pm school day. I was exhausted by the immense heat (32 degrees Celsius is extreme for the UK!) and enduring the long practice session. I decided to shower and have an early night due to my fatigue. I quickly fell into my slumber after a few minute. For years, I’ve always enjoyed reflect on the day before I allow myself to knock out. Although the day was tiring, I was glad I got some work done in my training. School went as I would expect and I felt as though I put in a considerable effort to the day.
In terms of the next day, I wasn’t too excited for its arrival, despite it being a Friday. The reason was – extra Qur’an and Arabic tutoring. I wasn’t the most competent with the use of another language – to this present day, I can’t fluently speak my native tongue! – So I was forced by my parents (how surprising!) to do extra work since I was falling behind compared to my similarly aged cousins.
I dreaded every single minute of it! It was like I was being water boarded with Arabic and Islamic values for some form of spiritual understanding. I always had put little effort into the hour a week, to which my parents were obviously not happy with my attitude.
After some mental rants and a series of disappointed sighs, I finally decided to allow myself to sleep.
This is where abnormality begins to take hold.
The early sleep led to me waking up in the middle of the night. I didn’t have a working clock in my room – the Arsenal Football clock had stopped due to the batteries dying the day before (and nobody being bothered to replace it since then).
The sun was at its rise and the horizon was a warm orange with a yellow tint. I had a good sleep and felt as if I was full of energy, but I remained on my back facing the ceiling for a couple of minutes.
The remnants of my hatred for Arabic tutoring returned as I my mind began to turn its mental cogs. I was just about to rant again but I couldn’t feel my mouth. It was if some camouflaged masking tape had firmly gripped and stuck my lips together. I was mute which sparked some fear in my mind. Did I just lose my voice?
I attempted to rise from my bed but I was paralysed. All joints in my arms and legs felt completely numb. I wanted to scream and shunt myself off the bed, but no result came out, regardless of how hard I tried.
And then the unthinkable happened.
These hypothetical straps loosened their grip on my body and began working on my spine. A warm sensation filled the small gaps between the sections of my vertebrae and began pushing me vertically upwards. I was still horizontal as I elevated from my mattress. I couldn’t adjust my neck but I caught a glimpse of my cream bedside table distancing away from me. My eyes instinctively widened as I was brought closer to the ceiling, almost to the point where the tip of my nose was in contact with the flat surface.
I could feel a brisk wind from the curtains behind me. It maneuvered through my fingertips and across my torso. The wind was sharp with its breeze, cold enough to cause me to shiver slightly – its summer, I thought, there’s never as cold winds as these”. It lingered by my arms stabbing my skin with its concealed knives of air and a low whistle.
The sun began to increasingly rise from the south-east until one of the incident rays had a spotlight effect on my body. I could just barely lift head enough to see it aiming at my heart. I felt a small burning sensation on my pajama top where the light was aiming. It stung slightly, but I couldn’t flinch. The wind mingled with the ray of sun, which soothed the burn.
This effect lasted a few seconds until the wind stopped. The sun raised more so that it now reached to my eyesight. My head was forced to tilt towards the window, right into the sun. I was always warned of being blind when looking into the sun, but I felt no pain when I looked into the star. It’s warm aura caused adjacent clouds to tint to a mix of ash grey and dark orange.
And then, all of it reversed. My head re-titled itself to facing the ceiling once more and I was slowly pushed down to my bed. Once I lay in my bed, the clock began to miraculously tick, but all hands of the clock were stuck on the 5, including the second hand, which could not push on, despite its struggle.
I immediately got out of bed. I felt my arms and legs – no numbness. I swiveled my neck to and fro – no resistance. I felt my lower spine – it seemed as normal.
Puzzled by what just happened I left my room and to my parents’ bedroom. Both were fast asleep – the event must have been silent then, I thought. I kept contemplating what had just occurred to me and did not sleep for the rest of the night.
About an hour later, my mum knocked on my door. She woke up since the prayer times in the summer can be very early. My mother first asked “Did you see the sun rising in the south east?” I replied with a confused “yes”. She seemed very intrigued with what the sky looked like when the sun rose, but how did she know I was awake.
I was intending to keep my new experience to myself, but I swiftly asked, “do you know what happened?”, giving no context to my event. She replied with no hesitance, “Yes – It was a sign of Allah”
Before I could say another word, she explained the situation I found myself in with exact details – the rising sun, the levitation, the warm rays of light and cold winds – the whole shebang.
“Think about it using logic. Mecca is located south East of where we are right now. You levitated since Allah raised you to be in line with the sun when the sun lined up [with Mecca]. The cold winds and hot rays were a demonstration – of the Deity’s power to harm, but also to heal.” I could not believe a word of what she was saying.
She seemed as wide awake as I did – I mean, this early start was routine for her at this point. I asked, out of curiosity, “How did you know?”
“I just did. Allah gave me his vision of your experience for those few minutes – I know you were scared, but you endured the pain and fear. All you needed to do was to curse the name of Allah to stop the process in your head – but you never spoke of his name, allowing him to complete the process.”
That was a big indication to me – I always curse Allah’s name when something bad happens to me, out of habit. But then, I did not even think about him at all.
My mum held me tight for a while before she left to pray. She offered to pray with her, but , as always, I refused. She usually would be a little angry by that response, but she only responded with a warm smile. She told me “I bet, if you don’t go to sleep and stay up, you won’t feel restless in the morning. Allowing yourself to slumber will not allow your mind to remember the experience Allah just gave you.”
I did just that, aiming to disprove her – but the prediction couldn’t have been more right.
The next day was, as normal. I continued contemplating for the rest of the day, trying to insert some logic into the event, but nothing came to mind.
My experience can only be described as some phenomenon, after years of trying to explain and deduce. I’ll admit, in the present day, im still not the most faithful to Islam, but I can’t deny that I feel somewhat attached to my religion. Since that singular event that only spanned a few minutes, I believe that someone is watching over me, be it Allah or another deity.
It’s a very long post, I know, but I’m glad it’s no longer kept to myself – this is one of my most personal experiences that I have. I’m still left puzzled to this day about that night, but I no longer feel uneasy or unsettled about it – I’ve accepted it for what it is.
Thanks for reading if you got down to the end - leave a comment on your opinion about the story!
Riyad/Rags