As the musky, oudy scent of Ramadan begins to linger in the air, as dates return to seasonal demand, and as we await the masājid to fill and the moon to complete its orbit in the month of Sha‘bān, marking the threshold of Ramadan and preparing us to affix our lives to a complete transformation of the status quo for the next thirty days, it dawns upon me that a month so mubārak is near. My heart, like the hearts of billions of Muslims across the globe, is filled with anticipation and joy. For Allah to grant me, yet again, the opportunity to witness this month of mercy and renewal is itself a blessing beyond measure.

Ramadan, the month of detachment from material realities; from the rigid cadence of the 9–5 to alignment with the cycles of the sun and the moon, and from social preoccupations to reflection on the depth or shallowness of our souls, calls us to detach from the dunya and from the nafs al-ammārah bi sū’ that inclines us toward ubiquitous sin, staining the soul with vanity and heedlessness. It is a month that cultivates the objective of taqwa and returns each year to elevate our consciousness.

Although Ramadan arrives annually as a reminder and a reckoning, this year feels especially unique for me. Entering this Ramadan while living the answered du‘ā of the last feels nothing short of surreal: to now stand as a Darul Qasim student is itself a testament to Allah’s karam. For many out-of-state students, Ramadan carries the echoes of home, and so it does for me. Yet this time, I wish to return home not only with memories, but with the pearls of knowledge I have gathered during these past life-transforming months spent in the proximity of ‘ulamā’ who embody, in both character and intellect, our rich turāth Islāmī, especially under the guidance of Shaykh Amin, whose words are infused with nūr and whose teachings illuminate both the heart and rational faculty. 

Inspired by those pearls of knowledge, I wish to spend this Ramadan embodying the Prophet ﷺ, who was described by his observant Companions as:

 

Yet what did such generosity truly mean for one who spent a significant portion of the month in i‘tikāf, withdrawn from socialization and human interaction? Shaykh Amin explains in his Bukhārī class that our understanding of generosity has become reductionist, confined merely to material giving. The Prophet ﷺ, however, embodied the mafhum of ṣadaqah as a state of the nafs; an ever-present disposition of generosity, a permanent mode of sharing his wujūd of raḥmah with the Ummah. And as the raḥmah of Allah intensifies in Ramadan, so too did the outpouring of the Prophet’s faḍl and nūr. The preservation of the Qur’an through his recitation with Jibrīl was his ṣadaqah. His nawāfil were ṣadaqah. Even the utterance of a single tasbīḥ established equilibrium within the cosmos. Thus, the Prophet ﷺ was more generous than the free-flowing wind, whose passage leaves nothing but benefit in its wake. In this spirit, I aspire to a generosity that manifests in my worship and overflows into the sharing of khayr, in shāʾAllāh.

Moreover, as we immerse as part of every dars, in the intellectual lineage of our sacred sciences, it ignites within the heart an intense yearning to traverse their illuminated paths in pursuit of the ultimate ḥaqā’iq and the pleasure of Allah. I aspire for my days to be intentionally devoted to the Muṣḥaf, following in the footsteps of Imām al-A‘ẓam and Imām al-Shāfi‘ī, who engaged themselves in the Book of Allah during Ramadān to the extent of completing it around sixty times within the month. I long for my nights to be revived in the manner of Shaykh al-Hind, who, even in the frigid confines of the Malta prison, in his late sixties, weakened by illness and tormented by British authorities, would rise for tahajjud, prolonging his sajdahs and savoring the qurb and ḥalāwah of īmān that surpasses the allure of the entire world. Though attaining the lofty maqām of such luminaries in their ‘ibādah may be an ambitious aspiration, it is the fervent devotion of their hearts that illuminated their path, and it is this very himmah I seek to nurture within myself this Ramadān.

This longing for closeness to Allah finds its resonance in the extraordinary nature of this blessed month, whose cosmological significance is undeniable. How could it be otherwise, when angels envelop the universe, when the cosmos itself is momentarily freed from the sharr of the shayāṭīn, when Laylat al-Qadr unveils its unparalleled magnificence, and when hearts soften, reminded that their journey was never intended to align with the soul-crushing vanities of the dunya? Ramadan arrives to define our grander purpose. I do not want this to be another Ramadan that merely passes by, measured only by ifṭārs, weary nights, and a calendar month gone by too quickly, like a fleeting mirage slipping through the fingers of time. I yearn to make its impact everlasting by treading the guided paths of our aslāf, fortified by the wisdom of my teachers and the sanctity of this institution. I seek to fulfill ḥaqq ash-shukr for one of the greatest blessings Allah has bestowed upon me since last Ramadān: the opportunity to set foot in this noble college, where even the air resonates with the Qāsimī spirit. I hope to carry the Qasimi’ air and Waliyullahi essence as I go home, as my feet reach the shore, even from afar, I hope to stay in the quest for more. A talab planted in every tālib at Darul Qasim; to grow, to learn, to contribute. 

I pray that Allah grants our souls, this Ramadān, the nūr with which this mubārak month is suffused, enabling us to attain the serenity of the nafs al-muṭma’innah, to embody the ṣifāt of the righteous predecessors, and to uphold the turāth of our blessed tradition. I make this niyyah wholeheartedly, for, as Shaykh Amin reminds us, “there is no greater force in the cosmos than a sincere intention.”