Bismillah walhamdulillah was solatu wassalam ‘ala Rasulillah ﷺ
Apabila Ilham Datang Bertandang
It’s always interesting when an ilham comes — when inspiration strikes and it feels like you have so much to talk about.
For this one, I was about to sleep yesterday night when I heard Surah Al-Ma’un recited by an unknown qari.
It was soothing, paired with rain visuals and sound. Soothing, Masha Allah. The moment I first heard the recitation while scrolling my phone, its last verse instantly reminded me of “the regime”.
Two Years, Countless Tears
I’ve been wanting to pen something on it, but hadn’t found a good time. Listening to that qari, though, gave me somewhat of a boost to finally put my thoughts into words.
For almost two years now, our social media feeds have been filled with images and videos of our families in Palestine — may Allah have mercy on them.
Day after day, month after month, it has almost reached two years since this “war” broke out in its peak of human cruelty.
The World That Forgot Mercy
We studied history in our school days, but what we are witnessing today will itself be remembered as history — and not the kind that humanity can be proud of.
As a human being — alhamdulillah, I believe I am still blessed with the rahmah taught by our Prophet ﷺ — I can’t help but think that some parts of the world may have lost it.
In my 30+ years of life, it feels like I’ve seen this forever — years after years, decades after decades. It’s hard to truly comprehend the atrocities we’re seeing, and harder still to accept that the world cannot, or will not, stop it.
A Verse That Won’t Let Go
Back to Surah Al-Ma’un’s final verse: “They withhold even small acts of kindness.”
It reminded me of a simple act by Egyptians — bottling up flour, beans, and other food to send to Palestinians who have been denied even basic nourishment.
https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSDkuE5bN/
Their Test, Our Test
I’m quite sure that each of us, upon seeing such visuals, feels some guilt. Especially for us in Singapore. We may have our own challenges, but the absence of food is almost unheard of here. There are always initiatives like “pay it forward” meals, zakat or food vouchers or community pantries to help one another.
In the worst case, some of us may feel hungry — but perhaps not for long, and certainly not as long as our families in Palestine, where death may arrive before even a drop of water or a crumb of bread reaches their lips. Allahu.
The test they face is indeed our test as well. It is multi-faceted, multi-layered, and its ripples reach us too.
It is their test of patience, endurance, and resilience — and our test of how we respond. (May Allah guide us all.)
If We Were in Their Shoes
Living in this part of the world, considered “safe,” I often wonder: how would we react if one day we were in their shoes? Na’uzubillah. It reminds me that it’s not a question of if, but when, especially in an increasingly competitive, self-centred, and entitled world.
As we approach the two-year mark of this “upgraded” conflict, how do we feel about it? Has the initial grief and guilt faded? Have we normalised it into “just another day”?
One Dip That Changes Everything
I can’t help but look forward to better days for them. If not in this dunya, then let it be in the Akhirah.
I hold on to the hadith in Sahih Muslim 2807, which means:
“One amongst the denizens of Hell who had led a life of ease and plenty in this world will be dipped into the Fire only once on the Day of Resurrection, and it will be said to him: ‘O son of Adam, did you find any comfort? Did you happen to get any blessing?’ He will say: ‘By Allah, no, my Lord.’
Then one of the people of Paradise, who had lived the most miserable life in this world, will be dipped into Paradise once, and it will be said to him: ‘O son of Adam, did you face any hardship? Did any distress befall you?’ He will say: ‘By Allah, no, my Lord — never did I face any hardship or experience any distress.’”
In other words, one dip in Hell wipes away every blessing we thought we enjoyed. And one dip in Paradise erases every suffering we ever endured.
May Allah reward and place our families in Palestine in Paradise. With all the pain and suffering they endure every single minute, may they be compensated with Jannah. And with that one dip — just one dip — may all their pain vanish. Ya lanaa bil qabul.
From Sympathy to Sujood
As the days pass, we should ask ourselves: what have we really done for them? Have we sincerely made du’a for them? Or are we merely sharing posts with captions like “May Allah…” without actually uttering the words in prayer? Have we risen in qiyam for them? May Allah grant us the strength to do so. Ameen.
Alhamdulillah, for us men, every Friday we are reminded to make du’a for them in qunut during Jumu’ah. May that practice continue — with hearts full of khushu’ and tadarru’ to Him.
A Du’a That Stays With Me
As I was reading du’as for them, I came across part of the Du’a Dhuha in Al-Khulasah, which I find beautifully written:
O Allah, if it is in the sky, bring it down.
If it is in the earth, bring it forth.
If it is far, draw it near.
If it is little, increase it.
If it is forbidden, purify it with Your truth, light, beauty, power, ability, and authority.Grant them always the best of what You have bestowed or brought,
With perfect health in this life and the Hereafter.
I’m not sure about you guys but it’s simply beautiful, isn’t it?
He Knows, We Don’t
May Allah grant us the strength to keep making du’a for them, and may He keep them under His protection always.
At the end of the day, He knows the wisdom behind it all and we, as human beings, do not.
May the day come when even the gharqad tree will call out and the day when Allah declares, “لِمَنِ الْمُلْكُ يَوْمَ” (To whom belongs the sovereignty this Day?)
لله الواحد القهار
والله أعلم













