Bahar Ali
Bio
Storyteller at heart, always chasing the magic in everyday moments. I write to explore, to feel, and to connect. From fiction to personal musings, my words are pieces of the world as I see it. Welcome to my little corner of creativity.
Stories (2)
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The Light of Faith: A Tale from the Golden Days of Islam
The desert was endless. Rolling dunes of gold shimmered under the sun by day and cooled into silence under the stars by night. Among the tribes that wandered this vast expanse lived a young man named Malik — known for his strength, courage, and fierce pride. He was the son of a tribal leader and had grown up mastering the sword and horse. Among his people, he was admired, even feared. But deep within, Malik carried a hollowness he could never explain. To him, life was survival. Power ruled, and weakness was punished. Gods were carved from stone, traded for favor, or invoked for war. But Malik never bowed to idols. He believed in nothing but himself, in the power of his will, his sword, and the lineage of warriors from which he came. That belief was about to be challenged. Word had reached the desert of a man in Makkah — Muhammad ibn Abdullah (peace be upon him), a man who claimed to speak for the One True God. He called people not to idols, but to worship the Creator of the heavens and earth, unseen yet near, merciful and just. Many dismissed him, calling him mad or a sorcerer. Others began to follow him in secret. Slaves, orphans, and even noblemen had accepted his message. And in the marketplace and campfires, his words traveled faster than caravans. Malik was skeptical but curious. This man had no army, no wealth, and yet his message spread. What kind of power was this? One moonless night, Malik covered his face with a scarf, mounted his horse, and rode silently toward Makkah. He entered the city under the cover of darkness, moving through back alleys until he reached the house of Al-Arqam — where the Prophet was known to gather with his followers. He hid behind a wall, listening. Inside, the Prophet spoke. His voice was calm, steady, filled with quiet strength. He recited verses from the Qur’an — words unlike anything Malik had ever heard: *“By the sun and its brightness... By the soul and Him who proportioned it... He has succeeded who purifies it, and he has failed who corrupts it.”* The verses shook him. He listened for what felt like hours. The Prophet did not speak of conquest or riches, but of truth, mercy, and justice. He spoke of a Day of Judgment, where kings and beggars would stand as equals before their Lord. He spoke of Paradise for those who believed, and of Hell for those who denied the truth after it came to them. Malik left before dawn, but the words had already taken root. Days passed, but peace eluded him. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t eat. He began to question everything — his idols, his tribe, even his own heart. Eventually, he returned — this time, not as a hidden observer, but as a man in search of something he couldn’t name. The Prophet welcomed him gently, offering dates and water. Malik sat silently, watching. The Prophet’s eyes carried a depth he had never seen — eyes that had seen both pain and revelation. Malik finally spoke. “I have never bowed to stone, nor have I feared any man. Why should I believe in your God, whom I cannot see?” The Prophet answered, “You cannot see the wind, Malik, yet it shapes the dunes. You do not see your soul, yet it drives your heart. Allah is nearer to you than your jugular vein. He is the One who gave you strength, but you have not thanked Him.” Malik was silent. “You are not weak for seeking the truth,” the Prophet continued. “You are weak only when you choose to live without it.” That night, Malik left the house and walked alone into the desert. Under a sky filled with stars, he fell to his knees. The desert around him was vast and silent. He raised his hands, something he had never done before, and whispered, “O Creator… if You see me, guide me. I do not know the path — but I am ready to walk it.” Tears fell from his eyes — not from fear, but from the release of a pride he had held too long. The next morning, Malik returned and embraced Islam. He was not the same man. Where once he walked with arrogance, he now walked with purpose. He learned the Qur’an, stood in prayer beside the poor, and carried water for the elderly. He fought in battles not for glory, but to defend the weak. The companions came to love him for his sincerity and loyalty. Years passed. Malik stood beside the Prophet during the Farewell Sermon, surrounded by thousands. He wept as he heard these words: “O people, your Lord is One. All of you are from Adam, and Adam was from dust. No Arab is better than a non-Arab, nor a non-Arab better than an Arab — except by piety and good action.” Malik, once a man of dust and pride, was now a light among believers. **Lessons from Malik’s Story:** - **Faith finds the heart when pride steps aside.** - **Even the strongest need guidance.** - **True transformation begins with a whisper to God.** - **The Prophet’s wisdom changed lives not through force, but through compassion and truth.** - **Every soul has a journey — some just begin in the silence of a star-lit desert.**
By Bahar Ali10 months ago in Motivation
