The Wrong Kind Of Muslim - A book by Qasim Rashid. A must read for all.

Going through my Twitter trends, I noticed a rising trend - #TheWrongKindOfMuslim. I was intrigued and wanted to know what it was about. Little did I know that it would be about Ahmadis and how they have been persecuted in history of Pakistan and worldwide too, for that matter. Anyway, I clicked the link and lo and behold! A page full of that trend came before me, about a book soon to be released – The Wrong Kind Of Muslim by Qasim Rashid, the spokesperson for the Ahmaddiyya Community in USA.

There was so much hype about the book, especially among Ahmadis, because it was a book about Ahmadi persecution, and persecution in general of all the religious minorities residing in Pakistan. I was greatly interested in reading and I couldn’t wait to get my hands on the book.

Soon after the release, an Ahmadi on Twitter lent it to me. I decided I’ll read it slowly and surely, digesting everything. However, I found myself awake at 4am on a work night, reading, desperate to get onto the next page, to read it as soon as I possibly could. I ended up finishing the book at 7 in the morning, went to work and dozed off every now and then, but the book was worth all of it.

The Wrong Kind Of Muslim is a book by Qasim Rashid, about Ahmadi persecution, and of persecution of all the religious minorities, residing in Pakistan – mainly the Christians, Hindus, Shias and the atheists. The book starts with an Evangelical Christian bullying the author for being an American Muslim, since Muslims were considered outsiders and terrorists in the US. A couple of years later, his boss at a workplace, who happens to be a Christian, tells him that Christianity is the true religion and that even the Quran mentions that. Shocked and confused, he goes home to read the Quran only to find that every verse that the Christian has quoted is true and he starts to have doubts over his own faith. So, he goes to his father and asks him to help him out, and his father gave him the best advice anyone could have ever given anyone – he asks him to found out the truth by himself. His father tells him that just following a belief for the sake of following is never a belief and that he should find out what he believes in and research on it himself.

Soon after, he visits Pakistan and goes to Rabwah, which is the Ahmaddiyya Community center in Pakistan. He goes to Pakistan and realizes that he has been living in a bubble in USA, where he has been granted freedom of religion and freedom of speech. Here, in Pakistan, anyone who is an Ahmadi, has always been persecuted, ridiculed and mocked at. For those of you who don’t know, Ahmadis believe Hazrat Mirza Ghulam Ahmad Qadiani to be the Promised Messiah that the Holy Prophet (SAW) predicted would come to the much-awaited world. However, Pakistanis believe this to be an insult to the finality of the Holy Prophet (SAW) and after much riots and meetings and insults and threats, the government finally convened and a law was added in the Constitution of 1973, which declared Ahmadis to be non-Muslim. They could not say salaam. They could not declare their places of worship to be mosques. They could not say anything that poses them as Muslims. Hell, they could not even wear attire that a Muslim would normally wear. They couldn’t pray or fast or read Quran; moreover they weren’t even supposed to call their Holy Book the Quran. Even Dr. Abdul Salam, a renowned Nobel Prize winner (who was an Ahmadi) is not recognized by Pakistan, just because of that, his faith.

Life proved very hard for the Ahmadi Muslims as the books goes on, how they were killed, tortured, ridiculed. How sons watched their fathers die right before their eyes, how sisters lost their brothers, husbands lost their wives, how the author’s cousin was tortured and forced to watch men and women get killed and raped in front of him just because he was an Ahmadi. He talks about the Mong Massacre where people died because they wanted the next person to be given help instead of them, and the biggest possible Ahmadi massacre which took place on May 28^th,2010, where 86 Ahmadis were martyred and over 150 were injured in suicide bombings, grenade attacks and gunshots. It talks about how the government stood aside and watched everything happen, how the police refused to grant protection to any Ahmadi on any post, how the media conveniently “forgot” to mention Ahmadi attacks, moreover, it also talks about how the majority of the nation was ignorant about what was taking place right under their noses. The way the author described the Mong and Lahore massacre literally moved me to tears, knowing that even in the last moments that life had to offer the Ahmadi Muslims, they remained steadfast to their faith, and instead of screaming curses or shouting obscenities, prayed to Allah for their forgiveness and to give knowledge to all the oppressors, how people helping them would get frustrated because they kept denying help, saying the next person needed it more than them, how they kept dying, just like that because they wanted the next person to stay alive.

The persecution does not stop at Ahmadis. Christians and Hindus are a part of it. How Christians are the only ones hired for cleaning the gutters and how they just get paid $3 per day, which is never enough to feed a family, how they are constantly mocked for their faith, how they don’t get employment or education since they are not able to afford it neither is any school willing to take any Christians or Hindus in. The atheists are another story. The author was advised that atheists “do not exist” in Pakistan and he could not get a single narrative out of any atheist because of the security reasons. In a state where Jinnah declared that everyone was free to practice their own religion in whatever way they please, it’s a shame that technically only Sunnis have been allowed to practice it freely so far, since every other minority has been attacked and murdered, if they so much as raise a voice. Then comes the persecution of Shias. The author writes about Shia people, who have been recklessly persecuted for their faith and murdered thoughtlessly and senselessly.

However, on the other hand, he also talks about how an Ahmadi girl was defended by all her non-Ahmadi class when she publicly declared to her teacher that she was an Ahmadi. The author also mentions his late grandfather, who was a convert to the Ahmadi sect, who was defended by all his village people, even if they were against his sect, when the mullahs running to kill him. So, even if so much persecution is being carried out, voices have been raised before and are still being raised for the rights of religious minorities in Pakistan.

At the end, Rashid asks everyone to raise their voices in whatever way they can, not by a sword though. But he genuinely asks everyone to raise awareness about the religious minorities’ persecution by the Jihad of the pen, by uprooting all evil and spreading good. For that he says we just need to think of humanity rights, nothing more. It’s not a matter of who’s right and who’s wrong. It’s about equality, that all of us are humans and all of us deserve and equal right to live. It is a must read for all of you if you believe that humanity should come before everything. Maybe Rashid might be able to convince you that without freedom of religion and speech, there can be no peace in this world, there will only be more and more intolerance. A must read.

How being an Ahmadi works in Pakistan

It’s my first day in university. I am an introvert and I don’t make friends easily so I stand in a corner, waiting for someone to come and talk to me, instead of me having to make the first move. A girl comes towards me, introduces me and asks me “Are you new here?” I respond in the affirmative and tell her I’m very nervous about my first day since I’m scared of new people and new environments. She links her hand in mine and tells me I don’t have to worry anymore, that she’ll help me adjust and she’ll hang around me. I heave a sigh of relief and she drags me to my first class since she knows where the new classes were supposed to be starting.

Our acquaintance gradually converts into a friendship. And that turns into a trustworthy friendship. Both of us have started spilling our deepest, darkest secrets. We have started talking about the things that matter to us, things we’re scared of, what we aspire to achieve, what change we want to bring into the world, things we would never, in a million years, tell anyone else.

Then one day, I decide to tell her I’m an Ahmadi. I decide against reason. I decide against the lectures people had given me about not declaring my religion openly, given the situation in Pakistan. Given the fact that Ahmadis were openly mocked and jeered at, that people preferred to stay away from “our lot” and how they would openly say we are Wajib-ul-Qatal – that we deserve to die. But none of these thoughts cross my mind, because I believed, at that time as hopeless and foolish that I was, that this friend I had made, she would never think like that. And even if she did not believe in our religion, what excuse is that to end such a close friendship, because by then we were inseparable. I believed in the best and one day I went to her and told her that I needed to tell her something, but that she had to promise that she wouldn’t judge me, that she wouldn’t just stop talking to me over it.

She got extremely worried over what could possibly have happened that is making me so jittery and nervous. So, before I could have any second thoughts, I blabbered – “Listen, I just wanted you to know that I didn’t tell you one thing about myself. I’m an Ahmadi. Not that if affects our friendship or anything, but I just wanted you to know so that you wouldn’t blame me later on if you found out from someone else. So…”

The expression on her face was shocking. It was a mixture of disappointment, mockery and anger. I couldn’t decipher why she was so surprised and I asked her exactly that. Her reply was “But I shared my food with you, we hung around together, you even came to fucking house, goddammit.” I said “Hey, why are you making such a big deal out of it, why does it matter what I believe in? Isn’t everyone supposed to have their own set of beliefs?” But she wouldn’t listen, she just started shouting at me “You are a fucking non-Muslim, you don’t deserve to live. You guys have turned Islam into a mockery, you should be ashamed of yourself, you bitch. You and your community needs to be taught a lesson, you guys all deserve to die. You should have told me this the first time we started hanging out so that I wouldn’t have gotten so close to you.”  

I said “Look it’s my religion, I believe in it, it’s something very personal and it shouldn’t bother you. We’re not friends on the basis of our religion, now are we? Besides, you were quite fine with me before you found out, so why make an issue of it, when we’re such best friends?” She says, in a huff – Look Saniya, I adore you but I can’t be seen talking to an Ahmadi, and hang around an Ahmadi, you are one so I can’t hang around with you. Allah sees everything and He will put me in Hell for it, too. You guys are not Muslims, and you guys are fake. I can’t be in the company of a person who calls herself a Muslim but is so astray from the religion. My elders have told me everything about what you people believe in and I don’t need to read the Quran and Hadith to confirm what they have told me.”

At that time, her words had started stinging and I started shouting back at her as well “Hey whatever I believe in is my business and what you believe in is yours. Don’t you dare say a word against me, my beliefs and my community, you don’t have that right” and with that, I walked off in a huff.

We didn’t talk for a couple of days, and then one day she texts me timidly, saying she’s sorry for the outburst and that she’s missed me and she wants to talk to me. Anyway, we decide to meet up the following afternoon. While we are making small talk over coffee, the discussion somehow returns back to Ahmaddiyyat. And she starts saying, in a pleading voice, nonetheless “Saniya, listen, this belief of yours is going to land you in Hell. I’m serious. You don’t know how much wrath Allah shows on false prophets and their followers. I care about you a lot so please just come back to the real Islam. Come back to us, and pray for forgiveness from Allah. He’ll listen to you. Just stop with this crap. Otherwise, you and me, we can’t be friends either.”

I couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t called me to chat, or because she missed me. She had just met up with me to give me an ultimatum. To tell me it’s either Ahmaddiyyat or her friendship. As if she thought I was going to give up the one thing I firmly believe on, the one thing I never budge from, give it all up for a friendship. A friendship which I didn’t know would last anyway or not. So, suppressing my anger, I calmly told her that I would do nothing of the sort, I will not give up my religion for a single soul in this world no matter what happens. Her rejection showed in her face and she slowly said “Oh.. So that’s it then, eh? You don’t want my friendship, anymore? This is what I meant to you?” By then, my patience had already started running low, and I did not want anything to do with her. What use was a friend who couldn’t accept you for who you are? So I told her “Yes, bud, this is the end. But not because I want it to be, or that it was my sole purpose in life to hurt you. But because you forced me to make that decision. I’m sorry but I can’t possibly choose you over my religion. I’m sorry. But it had to be this way.”

She stood up, as if her ego had been destroyed by my words and said “Okay, Saniya as you wish. But remember, one day you will realize what wrongs you have made. And when that day comes, you will be on your knees, begging for forgiveness from everyone and from Allah, and then everyone will taunt you and laugh at you for how strong you were in this make-belief religion of yours. I hope that you find your way, but till then you are nothing to me, I’m sorry I ever trusted you with anything, you guys are a sorry lot of asses and bitches who don’t give a damn about religion” And with this speech, she took one disapproving look at me and walked away, never to be seen of heard of, by me, again.

That day, I realized that no matter what happens, I will never be accepted by the people of Pakistan. I will never be accepted because of the rigid minds of elders and because of the constitution which declares us non-Muslims and does not give us any rights unless we publicly declare that we can are not Muslims. People will always come and talk to me and spend a good time with me, but as soon as they realize that I’m an Ahmadi, that stop talking and stop keeping in touch, as if it’s a contagious disease that will engulf them as well. Needless to say, it’s very dangerous to mention you’re an Ahmadi in Pakistan, anyway, because you’re a target for murder and kidnappings then. But I still say, I am proud to be an Ahmadi, and I always will be, no matter who comes, who goes and who hurts me in the end, I will always choose my religion over everything else, and I guess that’s the only thing that matters.

Happy Fathers Day, abbu

Since a month, there has been a huge hype about Fathers Day. Everywhere I went, there were posters about buying a gift for your hero, your first love, your best friend and your role model. There were gifts and cards to get for him. Fathers' Day was trending on Twitter. Even Pinterest had made a category named "For Dad" - gifts and ideas on how to make Fathers' Day special.

It was a wonderful yet heartbreaking week for me. Wonderful because the world was all hyped up to make their dads feel special. And heartbreaking because I wish I could have had one more day with my father, too. To make him feel special. To make him feel loved. To let him know that I had never taken him for granted. But alas, you only realize the value of someone when they leave you.

I avoided Facebook and Twitter all day on Fathers' Day to avoid any statuses and tweets which would make me well up. It turns out I didn't need that, anyway. The TV was full of Fathers' Day messages and so were the newspapers. All I could think of was how I wish I had someone whose day I could have made special.

So I think I will make it special for him by talking to him, yes it's a one-sided conversation but it doesn't hurt to try, right? Here goes - Happy Fathers' Day, abbu. I love you from the core of my heart. I wish you had been here so that I could have told you I love you in person. I would have made you smile. I would have joked around with you. I would have done everything I hadn't before I lost you. I would never have taken you for granted. I would never have let you go.

I miss you. Every single day, I miss you. And it feels like a searing pain that just won't go away. Every second of every day, I feel a hole in my heart, I feel an emptiness in my life. I have tried to fill it in every way possible but I just can't. The hole just feels like it is getting bigger and bigger as years pass by. I wish you were here to see me, where I am right now. I know you would have been so proud of me. I know it but I wish you were here to say that out loud.

I hope you're watching over me from above and protecting me. I love you Dad, and I always will. They say it gets better with time, but I've noticed that it just gets worse. Because as I grow older, I realize I need you advice, your comfort, you around me, and I just feel something's missing a lot lately. I've managed fine somehow, but I hope wherever you are, you're happy and smiling, and satisfied with how everything turned out. I love you. :')