Student Spectrums

“O mankind, indeed We have created you from male and female and made you peoples and tribes that you may know one another.”
— Surat Al-Hujurat 49:13

My culture was never mixed in with my other lives. I had three in total: my life with my family, my life at the masjid, and my life with my friends. I never let any of them clash.

That is, until last Jummah.

“Yo Harris, wait up,” yelled someone behind me.

I turned around. It was Imran. I didn’t know him well, but I knew exactly what he wanted.

“Imran, I told you once—” I started.

“No, no, just listen,” Imran said quickly. “Harris, you have to hear me out. There’s an event the MSA is hosting on Tuesday. It’s specifically for new members, and everyone is welcome.”

I sighed. Imran had been inviting me to the MSA every Jummah for the past four months. I was honestly just trying to avoid him at this point. But something in me told me otherwise today.

“You know what, sure. I’ll be there,” I said.

“Yes! Jazakallahukhair bro, you won’t regret it,” Imran replied.

A few days later, I sat with my usual group for lunch. Around us, students were eating, talking, and stumbling around with their trays clattering. I felt nervous as my friends slowly stopped laughing at the last joke they heard. Suddenly all eyes were on me.

“So what is this thing you’re going to after school?” asked Arman, still slightly smiling.

“Well, it’s a meeting for the MSA,” I replied.

Suddenly all three of their smiles dropped. They looked at one another for a second and then burst out laughing. I instantly fell back in my chair, embarrassed.

“Harris in MSA!” said Rafi through his tears of cackling.

“I gotta admit Harris, that was a good one,” mentioned Sufyan as he started to calm down.

I realized they didn’t exactly believe me. But I expected it, so I further emphasized.

“I’m not joking,” I said matter-of-factly.

They stopped laughing again. This time, however, when they looked at one another, they didn’t laugh. They looked worried, nervous even. Then they all looked back at me.

“First you cancel our hangouts to go to the masjid,” said Arman. “Then you start telling us to come with you. And now you’re joining the MSA?”

“Yeah dude, you’re being a little too serious aren’t you? Like you aren’t a sheikh. Why are you trying so hard?” added Rafi.

I thought and stayed silent for a moment. A feeling came up. It always did whenever I mentioned the masjid or something similar to the guys. But this time, it was stronger, more intense. I was scared.

“Yeah, you’re right. I mean, I’m just gonna check it out for one meeting, it’s not like I’m gonna be there every day or something,” I finally said.

“Hope so bro. You better not be switching up on us,” said Sufyan.

“Yeah and this should be the only one. We’re gonna hang out at the mall after school. You can pull up with us if you decide not to go,” added Rafi.

“I think I’ll stick with the meeting for now, but thanks,” I replied, not fully sure. They noticed.

After lunch, the day went on as usual. Boring classes with even more boring assignments. Eventually the dismissal bell rang and I packed up. As I headed towards the meeting room, I passed by the guys. They stared at me going over.

“Have fun being a sheikh bro, we’re going for laser tag,” Arman yelled out.

I sheepishly nodded and headed into the meeting room. Instantly Imran called out.

“Hey Harris, over here!”

I walked over and passed through the tiny room full of people. All of them were deep in conversation, and some were holding dishes. By the time I got to Imran, I saw a few others sitting next to him at a table.

“Harris, take a seat,” said Imran.

I took the one next to him and looked at the others around us. Two guys, three girls.

“Harris, this is Hamza, Hussein, Ammara, Sarah, and Huda,” Imran stated, pointing to each one individually as he spoke.

I said salam and they replied. But before I could speak, the one named Hamza shushed me.

“We can talk after, the halaqah is about to start,” he exclaimed as I heard the speakers crackle.

A deafening silence fell upon the room and everyone looked at the front. There was a boy there, dressed in a suit and holding a bunch of mini papers, each one no bigger than the size of a fortune from a fortune cookie.

“O mankind, indeed We have created you from male and female and made you peoples and tribes that you may know one another,” started the boy in the suit. “Assalamualaikum brothers and sisters. My name is Tariq, and this verse from the Quran tells us that we have different cultures, but we should use them to connect rather than the opposite. Let me ask you all a question. Have you ever felt like you live multiple lives?”

That question. It seemed like what I had been feeling for years. Then a few small murmurs came out from the crowd, all sounding agreeable.

“Yeah, it feels like I have a different life at school versus at home,” said one boy.

“Same here, I act completely different at both,” agreed another.

More and more people started to speak up. It felt like I had found people like me. But then I remembered all those times they had made fun of me. For skipping a hangout to go to the masjid, or the fact the mansaf I brought for lunch looked “disgusting.” I wasn’t like these people, not anymore.

“New kid, what’s your name?” Tariq said, looking at me.

“Harris.”

“Alright Harris, what do you think? Have you ever felt this way?” he asked.

“Nah bro, that sounds a little weird. Frankly, I think y’all just need some mental help or something,” I said before standing up. “I don’t think this is for me.”

Imran started to get up looking a little upset, but Hamza stopped him, shaking his head. I left before another word was spoken. I then called Sufyan.

“Finally, I knew you would change your mind. Hurry up, we’re outside the mall,” said Sufyan.

The next few weeks passed by like a blur. I stopped going to the masjid, I didn’t interact with any of the MSA kids, and I was starting to act more and more like my friends. I sometimes passed by the meeting room as we went to hang out, and I would hear Tariq giving his talk. Imran would look at me with a certain disdain on his face.

One day, as I got home, my dad asked to talk to me. This never ends well, I thought to myself. So I sat down in the living room while he sat across from me.

“Harris, I’ve noticed you have been acting different—” my dad started.

“Dad, wait. I know you don’t like me hanging out with the guys, but I don’t fit in anywhere else,” I said. “Nobody else is like me.”

“Well I have been seeing Imran recently at the masjid. That MSA club they have, it seems like you might fit in with them,” he replied.

“I checked it out. They’re kinda weird. Not my people.”

“Harris, you used to go to the masjid every day. Now look at you, I don’t even recognize you. When was the last time you even stepped foot in the masjid? You don’t even go for Jummah, and I barely see you pray at home either,” my dad lectured. “Please son, come with me to Jummah this Friday.”

“Fine, but only once,” I reluctantly agreed. He was my dad after all. I should listen to him.

Once Friday had come, I stepped into the masjid for Jummah and that old feeling came back. That feeling of community, that feeling of brotherhood. I looked around and saw people in different clothes, different colors, different voices, all standing together. It felt great. But I couldn’t leave my friends. What would I do without them? Then the khutbah started.

I was zoned out for most of the talk. I wasn’t trying to be a serious religious guy, I was just a kid. I could always be religious when I’m older, at least that’s what the guys said. But then, the imam referenced a hadith that stuck with me.

“The Prophet SAW said, ‘The example of a good pious companion and an evil one is that of a person carrying musk and another blowing a pair of bellows. The one who is carrying musk will either give you some perfume as a present, or you will buy some from him, or you will get a good smell from him, but the one who is blowing a pair of bellows will either burn your clothes or you will get a bad smell from him.’ This hadith, my dear respected brothers and sisters, tells us the importance of our company, and why we should not strive for people’s attention. Rather, we should only befriend one who will drive your attention towards the deen of Allah and hold you accountable. Do not befriend one who is evil, as he will lead you astray.”

I cried that day. I cried and cried. How could I have gone so far? I looked around at all the faces and souls. The noor emitted from the people surrounding me. The feeling of being connected to everyone. I didn’t know what to call it until the next week.

I decided to head back to the MSA despite the protests of my friends. I gave up plans and told them instead to join me. After heavy reluctance, they finally agreed to come to one meeting. When we entered the room, I went straight to Imran.

“Listen Imran, I have to tell you. I really am sorry, for my outburst, for eve—” I started.

“Harris, Harris,” Imran cut me off. “Don’t worry akhi. It’s all okay. I understand, we have all been there. Now come, sit, we have been waiting for you,” Imran said.

And so I sat down, along with the guys next to me, each sitting with a gloomy look. Then Tariq tapped on the mic and everyone went silent. He looked at me and nodded. I nodded back.

“Dear brothers and sisters, Assalamualaikum,” Tariq began as everyone responded with salam.

“At one point in all our lives, we have run through different companions. Friends and enemies. Family and rivals. Teachers and students. All of these different companions and relationships may seem different, but there’s one thing similar between them all. We are all Muslim.”

I looked up then. Tariq looked in my eyes as he said the following phrase. My own friend group perked up as the whole room sat in silent anticipation.

“We are all One Ummah.”