Living through the roots of Hadia

Show mercy to those on the earth, and the One above the heavens will show mercy to you.

And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it. This is a famous quote from the renowned novel The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. And it was, for sure, the very first thing I realized during our expedition to the Darul Huda Punganur Off-Campus.

On the weary Thursday night, we began our journey from Kannur, a team of 37 with an undeniable camaraderie. My classmates and two teachers—our guides and, quite literally, our parents. On the dusty dawn of Friday morning, we reached Katpadi Junction, then performed our prayers and took a two-hour bus ride to the campus. All praises are due to Almighty Allah, who bestowed this meaningful life upon us.

Throughout the route to the institution, I kept thinking, "Dear God, please don't put me in the middle of an unpleasant situation." I was really afraid of how my expectations would turn into a nightmare. The roads seemed uninhabited, and the people fixed their gaze on us as if asking, "Who are these alien-like people?" Ha ha.

During the journey, we got to witness an abundance of mango trees, each mango tied up in a red cover. I called this type of mango chakka manga (Jackfruit Mango) because of its gigantic shape. Then, in the blink of an eye, there we were, standing in front of another manifestation of Darul Huda—what the visionary U. Baputty Haji had dreamt of.

MashaAllah, there were these angel-like kids welcoming us with bright smiles and bouquets. Each of them treated us as if we were some kind of celebrities with a mountain of fame on our shoulders.

Their hospitality really astonished me. They told us to feel at home, and for sure, we did. We say, "Atithi Devo Bhava" (A guest is like God), and they proved it right.

As I entered the institution, I was depressed by the condition of the college and the way it existed. I felt pity. My inner child awakened, and I prayed for them, with tears of compassion welling up in my eyes. I remembered how blessed we are to have such an elegant life. Alhamdulillah.

After Friday prayer, we were told to attend a session by the mastermind behind Hadia, Aboobacker Hudawi. One of the most pleasant moments was when one of my friends, Rabeeh, delivered the Friday sermon.

The session was pure bliss—a jewel in the crown, a moment to be embraced. Aboobacker Hudawi shared the visions he had when taking such a risky initiative along with Anamangad Sharafudheen Hudawi. It was a herculean task, he said firmly. He couldn't hold back his emotions. His facial expressions earned our admiration.

I kept wondering how he could do all this, doing everything without expecting anything in return. Here I understood what our pioneer, U. Baputty Haji, once said: "It is upon us to dream, and it is upon the Almighty to materialize our dreams." And that was it—they dreamt, and Allah made it come true.

As I entered the main building of the institution, the first thing that caught my eye was the result poster of DTSE (Darul Huda Talent Searching Exam). Wow! The fifth rank overall was secured by Nadeem from the Punganur campus, followed by the 28th and 73rd ranks. They still have it, and they tried hard. Allah will never leave them behind.

Then the first session by Aboobacker Hudawi went on. I kept wondering what he would gain from these exceptional services—no honorarium, no recognition, just the blessings of Allah, seeking the utmost happiness.

Being an Ordinary Man

The next day, with good intentions (niyyah), we set out on the expedition, forming five teams with seven members each. My team was led by Afeej, my classmate and accomplice. Our beloved teacher, Anshif Shaheen, accompanied us.

Travelling more than 30 kilometres in an auto was more than we could bear. But one goal made us forget the pain—the path of Allah. As the Prophetic hadith teaches, it is enough for a person to guide someone to the straight path of Allah. That was the energy that drove us forward.

After an hour's ride, we reached Kondenahally. There, we couldn't interact with the men because it was the mango harvesting season, and they were busy with their work. Our Mutawalli said that the Muslims there lead a righteous life because of the initiatives established by Hadia. We were truly grateful for that response.

After lunch, we visited an Urdu school, which consisted of a single room with 45 students from different grades. I couldn't resist the pain. Without letting my companions notice, I wiped away my tears.

As we entered the classroom and greeted them with Salam, the students responded with remarkable enthusiasm—far beyond what we had imagined. I loved them. They were the beautiful roses of a garden.

There was a girl sitting on the front bench, quietly doing her paper craft. I asked her name, and she replied, "Zayneb." She said that her father was the teacher there and that she studied in an English-medium school in the town.

So I asked her, "Can you speak English?" She said yes without hesitation, and we talked for more than six minutes. I was on cloud nine because of this blessed girl. It felt as though I had found someone with whom I could communicate confidently. She was an angel—an innocent and humble girl. May Allah make her reach the summit of her dreams. Ameen.

While we were leaving the school, I asked the teacher why the government was not taking steps to develop the school into an English-medium institution. His reply made me feel helpless: "The government here is like a puppet; they don't really care about us."

Holding his hands firmly, with a ray of hope in my eyes, I requested him, "Please encourage your students to study well. They have great potential."

After walking around for a while, we returned.

Saba Fathima: My Gazelle

On the same day, we paid our first visit to a madrasa named Madeena Madrasa near our Punganur campus. The children welcomed us with bright smiles. Then we asked two children to recite the Qur'an, and Alhamdulillah, they did well.

From the very first moment, I noticed a shy girl in the corner of the classroom, covering her face with a book. I put on a wide smile and asked her name. She said, "Saba Fathima."

Then I enquired about her family members. She said her family consisted of her father, mother, and a brother.

Then I asked, "What is your khwahish (dream)?"

She replied, "I want to be a doctor."

"Why?" I asked.

Her answer, without hesitation, filled my heart with happiness.

"I want to treat patients without charging any fee."

O Allah, when will humans become truly humane?

I responded with a prayer: "In shaa Allah, you'll become one in the near future." I also promised her that I would come back in 20 years, and she should be practising there as a doctor. (In shaa Allah, I will keep my word if my health permits.)

May Allah pour His compassion upon her.

These are the unseen realities of remote villages in other states of India. Many social workers, like Taawun, Hadia, and many others, work tirelessly for a brighter future for these children. May Allah reward them with the best.

And, as a request, please include them and us in your prayers. After all, remembering someone in your prayers is the purest form of love.