Mere ne farmaya

Without fail, every Friday at 1.30pm, the same thought hits me: “We must make hijrah to another town.” By then, I will have missed the Punjurdlish speech, but will have caught the short English bayaan midway through. And what can I say? To be polite: it’s utter nonsense, always.

Nothing inspiring, just trite ill-thought-through arguments, calling people week after week to embrace some whacky weirdness irrelevant to their lives, always affirmed with that tired refrain, “These are the beliefs of ahlus sunnah wal jamaah.” Who cares?

What’s happening in this community? What are its issues? What are the young getting up to? What are our priorities? How are our families doing? How are we serving our communities? What difference are we making to those around us?

Here’s an idea: say something about the obesity epidemic in this community. Use your ten minutes of fame to teach your congregation about wholesome and healthy eating in light of the Prophetic example. Or just plain old common sense: cut out the Fanta and fried chicken, guys, I mean brothers.

For years we yearned for an English-speaking imam. Now we wish they didn’t bother, if this is the best we can do. I’ll take that lyrical, poetic Punjurdu any time over this assault on my understanding ears.

This is why, every Friday afternoon, when I return home from Jummah, I seek out the Cambridge khutbah. Though I am tempted to make my migration to their hallowed city, we know we can’t. Thus we must suffice with YouTube; our antidote to pious stupidity.

This a beautiful deen, if only the people were allowed to hear it.

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