Who Are You?

You say that with but a single gesture of yours lamps are extinguished, lanterns go dark, stars hide themselves, the moon vanishes into eclipse, the sun sets, the earth is plunged into darkness and the dominion of gloom prevails. But if you had lit the lamps, kindled a light, protected the flames from the winds, erased the dark stains of night from the page of days, brought tidings of the smiling dawn, illuminated hearts with tawḥīd, granted faith to minds, filled the vision with the treasures of reason, spread knowledge, and cleansed the world of ignorance — then it would have been known who you are.

You boast that you clap, you beat the drum, you make tumult with the din of music, you dance and sing, you raise slogans that shake the heavens. But if you had learnt to be silent, to build a dwelling in the stillness of mountains, to keep secrets locked within your chest, to meditate, to make the solitude of retreat your nest, to remember your Lord, to embrace the night, to rise at dawn, to pray and supplicate, to weep and lament — until your sighs shamed the waves of Kawthar and Tasnīm — then it would have been known who you are.

It is true that your forefathers built al-Ḥamrāʾ, erected the Red Fort, raised the Tāj Mahal, constructed roads and bridges, built hospitals, made astrolabes and observatories. But if you had abandoned vain pride, ceased to mourn at the graves of Hijāzī civilisation, and instead surpassed other nations in science and technology, raising an abode higher than the mansions of the West, then it would have been known who you are.

It cannot be denied that al-Risālah, Ṣaḥīḥ al-Bukhārī, Ṣaḥīḥ Muslim, al-Kitāb of Sībawayh, al-Qānūn, al-Shifāʾ, Ibn Khaldūn’s Muqaddimah, and Ḥujjat Allāh al-Bālighah are among the works of your predecessors. The sky kissed their foreheads; they stood as Moses upon the Sinai of knowledge; they confounded the Greeks. But if you had kept alive their traditions in the field of knowledge and research, kept the wings of imagination strong, and produced some imperishable work in transmitted sciences, rational sciences, and literature — then it would have been known who you are.

Indeed, Ibrāhīm al-Nakhaʿī, ʿAṭāʾ ibn Abī Rabāḥ, Rabīʿah al-Raʾy, Abū Ḥanīfah, Sufyān al-Thawrī, al-Awzāʿī, Mālik, al-Layth, al-Shāfiʿī, Abū Thawr, Aḥmad ibn Ḥanbal, Isḥāq ibn Rāhwayh, Dāwūd, Ibn Ḥazm, and Ibn Taymiyyah held the station of ijtihād. They had penetrating vision, and their ranks conversed with the constellations. But if you had escaped the swamp of blind imitation, employed thought and reflection, taken reason and intelligence as your guide, and established some monument of ijtihād — then it would have been known who you are.

Granted, your caravans once lit up the valleys of Andalus with the light of knowledge, made Baghdād a centre of learning, Damascus a cradle of wisdom, Cairo a source of arts and sciences, and Marw and Samarqand radiant with the sun of learning. But if you had today also paved the way for the caravan of thought, made your madrasahs qiblahs of learning and research rather than cloisters of ritual, made your universities havens of ijtihād, and lit fresh lamps of thought in your institutions — then it would have been known who you are.

It is correct that from your pens the effulgence of Qurʾānic tafsīr spread, the radiance of ḥadīth guided the ummah, the subtle discernments of fiqh illuminated the lanes of life, the investigations of kalām sharpened the mind, and the fragrance of taṣawwuf perfumed the hearts. But if you had today also given tafsīr a language for the new world, bestowed ḥadīth with the understanding of the present age, refreshed fiqh with the vitality of ijtihādī thought, shown kalām the heights of science and philosophy, and adorned taṣawwuf with the fragrance of action — then it would have been known who you are.

Truly, your ancestors diverted rivers, turned deserts into gardens, cut paths through rocky mountains, and laid the foundation of a new civilisation. But if you had today also harnessed the powers of nature, subdued the stars, shortened the distances of space, used atomic energy for good, and made machines your servants instead of becoming their slaves — then it would have been known who you are.

You claim that in your past there was everything — yes, there was: the light of dīn, the brilliance of knowledge, the glitter of civilisation, the heights of thought, the fragrance of sincerity. But if you had today brought that light back into your lives, lit again the lamp of effort and toil, housed in your hearts the crackle of truthfulness and purity, and shown the world a living picture of action — then it would have been known who you are.

Do you wish to recite history merely to cover your present backwardness? If you had made tomorrow better than today, awoken from the sleep of heedlessness, treated the assemblies of knowledge as worship, regarded thought and reflection as a trust from God, and set an example before the world — then it would have been known who you are.

So listen!

If you even now recognise your reality, return to your origin, hold fast to the rope of God, make the Qurʾān your constitution of life, the Sunnah the guide of your caravan, reason and reflection your lamp, knowledge your weapon, and action your identity — then those buried glories in the ruins of history will awaken again.

If you show the world that Muslims are not merely spectators of the past, but builders of the present and teachers of the future; if you erase the darkness of tyranny with the light of justice, break the chains of hatred with the key of love, and once more teach humanity to mankind — then it will be known who you are.

If you create unity in your ranks, small and great, Arab and non-Arab, Eastern and Western all standing in a single row; if instead of pride in your past you begin to improve your present; if your lands emit the smoke of factories, the fragrance of laboratories, the light of libraries, and the brilliance of research centres — then it will be known who you are.

Then the world will see that neither your lamps are extinguished, nor your stars concealed, nor your sun set, nor your moon eclipsed. Rather, the light of your lamps will surpass the sun, your stars will adorn the heavens, your sun will never set, and your moon will ever shine like the full moon.

And on that day history will confess, the nations of the world will bear witness, and the universe will proclaim: Yes, these are the people whom the world had lost, and today they are its leaders and guides.

—

Disclaimer: This article was translated by AI. Original post: https://t.me/DrAkramNadwi/7021