Let me take you down memory lane and share some observations. From birth until now, I have lived in three different localities, progressing from a neglected neighborhood to a somewhat clean one, and finally to a relatively safe and maintained area. Interestingly, in comparison, the neglected locality from 35 years ago was at that time safer than the “relatively safe” one today.
You might be wondering why I am talking about localities in Karachi when the title is about religion. My observation is that the majority of people follow the religion of their family, which is expected. However, the specific variant of religion they adhere to often depends on the Masjid they goto—unless they have a strict version handed down from their family. This has been the case with my own religious journey, I will discount the first locality because i did not go to the Masjid except for some lessons, which were specifically for reading Quran. The 2nd Masjid were of Deobandi and the 3rd is of Tanzeem e Islami, they too are predominately Deobandi but quite liberal in excepting other schools especially Ahl-i Hadith and Barelvi. But they are openly critical of things which they do not agree with like asking for help for anyone other then Allah, or using weak Hadith for preaching, in fact they argue that peaching should be done with Quran as a base.
Parallel to these two Masjids are various Masjids were I attended Friday prayers whiling traveling or at office. Come to think of it most of my Fridays are spent at office where the sermons are mostly islaahii except the time when the concept of tahwid is put forward, the Barelvi one clearly mentions that Mohammad blessings of Allah be upon him can except and listens to prayers, same concept it for the Awliya Allah (saints or friends of God). This is the point where most of the religious debates and contention happen.
Back to my first locality, I was too young to offer prayers at the Masjid. My only recollection of religious education is that the Quran madrasa I attended expelled me—either because of excessive absences or because I said something that angered the Qari (teacher). Before moving to the second locality, I briefly attended a smaller Quran class at another Masjid. Once we moved, my father arranged for a Qari to come to our home for lessons, but he was quite lazy. As long as we were reading, he did not care what or how we read. Neither were we sharp enough to point out this to our parents, or request for another Qari. Unfortunately, this still affects me today—I cannot read the Quran fluently, and it takes me over an hour to complete just one para (Juz). When the first Qari left for Bangladesh, a temporary replacement insisted we start from the basics, but we resisted, arguing that we had already “completed” the Quran under the first teacher. In hindsight, if I had put in more effort, things could have been different.
For context, learning to read Quran here typically follows three stages: Qaida (learning the pronunciation of Arabic letters and words), Nazira (reading), and Hifz (memorizing the Quran). In addition, Islamic studies are taught in schools as “Islamiat,” which includes lessons, quizzes, and tests. That is where I got the history of islam and stories about the messengers (Prophets) before Mohammad blessings of Allah be upon him and his companions may Allah be pleased with them. Which slowly developed to this day, the modes have changed though, but a lot have been through sermons and classes. In addition there were some Nazira lessons in the school as well, but that I remember was every student reading a few lines in a 40 mins class, and my mind wondered when it was not my turn.
These days, there are great teachers on YouTube, and I have friends who are Hafiz (memorizers of the Quran) who can help me. Even the imam at our local Masjid once inquired about my Nazira when I mentioned my struggles. However, my reading difficulties are not limited to the Quran; I struggle with Urdu as well. Unlike English, where I have read relatively better and can manage, my Urdu and Quranic reading remain weak—something I need to improve. Later i also put some effort to learn the Arabic language.
In the second locality, we had religious neighbors who did not own a television, spent their leisure time reading, attended government schools where they studied all subjects in Urdu. They were very devoted to prayer, which led my mother to frequently compare us to them, using their example to encourage us to attend the Masjid. My younger brothers were motivated and started going regularly, which eventually became a point of comparison for me as well. Long story short, they eventually grew out of the habit, but I continued attending prayers at the Masjid. Even now, I try to attend congregational prayers, especially at my workplace, though not as frequently on weekends.
So far, I have shared my experiences with learning about Islam—reading the Quran and offering prayers. During this time, members of the Tablighi Jamaat (a religious missionary group) often visited our house, inviting us to their sermons. I accepted the invitation since my father did not want to go. Over time, I began attending more of their gatherings and neighborhood visits. In ninth grade, I participated in their three-day program, and after university, I joined their 40-day program. They were considerate enough not to pressure me during my student years.
Any discussion of Tablighi jamat without their six numbers, will be considered incomplete, you can read the section “Six Attributes” on the Wiki page
The three days program was my first stay away from home for religious purpose, were we engaged in our daily amaal (actions, deeds, or religious practices), which included:
- A sermon after Fajr (dawn prayer), after that If a local guide was available, some members of the Jamaat would go on gasht (visiting people for religious outreach).
- Many members engaged in personal ibadat (worship) until Ishraq (sunrise).
- After breakfast, either members went back to sleep, or the started Taleem (reading religious texts, typically from Fazail-e-Amaal), which lasted about 2.5 hours. If a group rested after breakfast, they would start their Taleem session around 10 or 11 a.m.
- After Zohar (midday prayer), there was another Taleem session for the locals, followed by gasht, if a guide was available. These outreach meetings continued throughout the stay but never went too late into the night. Depending on the Jamaat, either they had lunch before Zohar, or ate afterward.
- After Asr (afternoon prayer), there was another sermon that continued until Maghrib (sunset prayer). This was considered a mandatory gasht, which no Jamaat would miss. If no guide was available, the group would conduct gasht in the market instead.
- After Maghrib, there was another sermon, followed by dinner.
- After Isha (night prayer), there was a final Taleem session. Usually, the Jamaat would go to sleep after Isha, but these days, especially among city-based Jamaats, members would gather in small groups and discuss random topics. This is discouraged by the Tablighi elders.
The neighbors also introduced me to the imams of the masjid. There were three brothers who shared the duties—if one had to travel, another would lead the prayers. The two elder brothers were training to become alims (Islamic scholars), and in later years, the third one also became an alim. However, all three were already Hafiz (those who have memorized the Quran). For some time I took some Quran lessons from them, even memorized Ya Seen. That and, I asked them many questions—some became habits I still follow, some I forgot, and for others, my understanding evolved over time.
I can’t recall the exact topics I studied in school, so I asked ChatGPT about the Islamiat curriculum in Pakistan. According to the response, the subjects covered include:
- Quranic Studies
- Hadith Studies
- Faith and Worship (Imaniat and Ibadat)
- Seerat-un-Nabi (Life of the Prophet Muhammad PBUH)
- Ethics and Morality (Ikhlaq o Adaab)
- Islamic Society and Contemporary Issues
- Sources of Islamic Guidance
Things have surely would have improved compared to 30 years ago, from what I remember. One aspect that was greatly appreciated by the people at the masjid was that we were required to memorize 40 Hadith along with their Arabic text and translations, as well as the last 30 Surahs of the Quran. Unfortunately, I have forgotten most of them, though the last 10 Surahs are frequently revised during Tashkeels, making them somewhat easier to recall. I do not remember “contemporary issues” anywhere in our subjects of that time.
University was a transformative period, there was “Islamiat” subject in one of the semesters, which required us to write essays on some topics. I remember writing my essay entirely on my own in english, though it was filled with grammatical mistakes. The teacher was kind enough to give me around 50%. I struggle with subjective topics. In more concrete subjects, I performed well.
We often attended a nearby Masjid, and once, a visiting Jamaat ask us if we can take them to meet our University fellows, so we took them to the hostel. It was quite a walk from the Masjid. However, we returned late, and one of my friends was angry with me for making him go home in the dark. During my first two years at university, I would return home between Maghrib and Isha prayers. Later, as labs and the library started closing at 5 PM, I returned home earlier.
By this stage, I had finished school and university but still lived in the second locality, occasionally joining Tablighi Jamaat when time permitted. One particularly interesting event from university was when our Islamiat teacher posed a bold question: “What if there were no God?” This was the first time a teacher dared to discuss such a topic. I am not mentioning names or locations because religion is a sensitive subject here, and I do not want to cause trouble.
That discussion led me to research the topic online, where I found numerous arguments for and against the existence of God. The teacher concluded that religion and belief in God cannot be proven scientifically—it is an experience that guides individuals.
While discussing the existence of God, two arguments stand out to me. First, I believe we were created with a purpose. This idea can be difficult to grasp, especially for those who do not practice religion. Second, the universe is perfectly structured for human life. If we see animal droppings on the street, we logically conclude that an animal has passed by. Similarly, for me, the complexity of the universe is sufficient to affirm belief in God.
A third argument is Pascal’s Wager, but I hesitate to use it. I believe faith should be absolute—either one believes wholeheartedly or not at all—rather than something approached as a gamble.
The 40 Days
After university, one of my neighbors was preparing for a 40-day Tablighi session. With my parents’ permission, I decided to join him. Our first tashkeel (deployment) was in a village called Nowshera in KPK. These routes were typically assigned to jamaats (groups) that included foreign guests. Two members of our group were originally from Pakistan but had joined us from the Middle East.
My neighbor was aware that some routes led to remote places with no restrooms or access to water. To ensure my comfort, we decided to accompany the foreign guests, as their routes were generally better planned.
The journey was physically manageable but mentally challenging. The amir (leader) assigned to our group was very strict and had his own interpretations of everything. Eventually, he left the Jamaat and returned to the Markaz (headquarters, which at the time was in Raiwind, Pakistan). After that, the elder member among our two guests took charge of the Jamaat, and things became more manageable.
At that time, I didn’t know how to cook. When it was my turn for khidmat (service)—which mainly involved preparing food, serving it, and washing dishes—I helped by chopping vegetables and cleaning plates.
In later tashkeels (deployments), I learned some basic cooking. It’s fairly simple if you’re not aiming for gourmet meals. For a basic curry, you heat oil in a pot, add onions, then add vegetables or meat and let it cook until done. Some people add water if they need to serve more people on a low budget.
Cooking rice is also straightforward. You add rice to a pot with slightly more water than the rice quantity, add salt, and let it boil until the rice is cooked. Here, the key is to ensure the water-to-rice ratio is correct.
After the challenges we faced during our first Tashkeel with the foreign guests, my neighbor and I decided to join a Tashkeel with a local Jamaat instead. Our second Tashkeel took place in Taxila. Physically and spiritually, the experience was manageable, but I fell ill during our stay.
While we were there, a devastating earthquake struck. The masjid we were in was 80 years old and built without cement or concrete. Fortunately, since Taxila was at the edge of the affected area, the tremors weren’t as severe.
When we returned to Raiwind, many people strongly encouraged me to complete the four-month program, which is considered the “basic training” for a preacher. However, I felt that my parents had only permitted me to go for 40 days, and with the earthquake adding to my concerns, I decided to return home.
Profession
After graduating, I once visited my university to use some of the facilities, access the internet, and back up some of my work. While I was there, a professor asked me if I had found a job. I replied that I hadn’t. He then asked for my resume, and a few days later, I received a call. Thanks to his reference, I was hired.
Though this actually happened, Barelvi followers often use a similar concept as a metaphor when asking God for something—they believe a “Waseela” (intermediary or reference) is needed. While many acknowledge that ultimate power lies with God alone, the debate arises over whether He has granted this ability to His prophets and saints. Naturally, other groups strongly refute this belief.
I haven’t discussed the Shia perspective in detail because I’m not fully aware of their beliefs. However, based on Instagram reels and YouTube videos, it appears that they also seek help from Ali (may Allah be pleased with him).
On my first Friday at the office, I was concerned about finding a masjid that aligned with my sect. Fortunately, I did, and the Khateeb there was a deeply devoted Sufi (Deobandi Sufi). His sermon was incredibly enlightening.
The group I was hired for was working on a separate project, and we stayed at that location for three months. During that time, I offered all my prayers at the same masjid.
Afterward, the team I was working with moved to a different building. Eventually, they discontinued the contract and formed a separate unit.
Over time, religion started to fade from my daily routine as I became more focused on my job. I began going late for prayers and paid less attention to the sermons. Eventually, I even started taking job-related courses and transitioned from development to QA. However, after some time, I decided to return to development and joined a different company.
This transition didn’t happen overnight—I spent two years with my previous employer before making the switch. At my second company, I adjusted well, but after seven months, they decided to downsize, and I was left without a job.
The 4 months
At this point, I decided to go for the four-month training—partly because I wanted to complete what I had committed to during my 40-day training three years ago and partly because I was struggling with depression.
The neighbor who had been my companion during the 40-day training came to see me off. He, along with another neighbor from the devout family I had mentioned earlier, ensured that I joined a good Jamaat.
The Jamaat I joined was from one of the most active masjids in Tablighi work, a place that always had a group on Tashkeel abroad. They assured me that they would train me well—and they did, or what ever they can manage in 10 days.
When we reached Raiwind, some of the students there convinced us to switch Jamaats and join them for a 40-day Tashkeel in Gilgit. This journey turned out to be more of a test of grit than a religious experience—at least in terms of the travel. However, the students handled it well, and the beautiful scenery helped ease my depression.
Part of our stay was during Ramzan, and among the group, three students were Hafiz. Two of them completed the entire Quran in just three days each, finishing it in a total of six days. As for the third Hafiz, I’m not sure if he completed it, as he and another fellow offered their Taraweeh prayers separately.
My third Tashkeel was once again with guests, this time a group of mostly young men from Malaysia and Indonesia. Two of them were in their 50s, I think. One was a professional acupuncturist who had visited Pakistan in the 1980s. He often recalled how strict things were back then, saying,
_“In those days, it was gasht, gasht, gasht. Now, it’s eat, eat, eat.”
After spending some time serving in Khidmat (service), this time for the Markaz, I left with a Jamaat to Okara. By this point, I had settled in well, and the internal struggles within the Jamaat didn’t bother me as much—even though I was appointed as the Ameer.
However, one of the members said something that I still remember to this day:
“Don’t be an Ameer again.”
When you travel with people from different regions and backgrounds, these things are bound to happen, that and I am not that good at leading people.
After that, people from my locality joined me at the Raiwind Ijtema, and they helped arrange my next Tashkeel. This time, we traveled to a place in Punjab, though I don’t recall its name.
After that, there was a Tashkeel in Sherpao, and the last one was in Lahore.
Profession again
After 40 days, the religious momentum faded within a few months. However, after completing the 4-month Tashkeel, I made sure to attend sessions regularly while also looking for a job. The good thing was that my mental state had significantly improved.
I actually received a job offer on the third day after returning, but I put it on hold, hoping for something better—which never came. So, I eventually joined the company and have been working there ever since.
For six months, I did leave my job to travel with the Tablighi Jamaat again, but I’ll write about that another time. During this period, I also had the opportunity to perform Hajj. After spending time with people from a third locality, I enrolled in their one-year Islamic course, which covered various topics within Islam.
I think I’ll write about Hajj and the one-year course in another blog.