Ever heard of the Kingda Ka? Its one of the most gruesome, adrenaline-pumping rides at Six-Flags amusement parks in the US.
You can check out a short vid here, to get a sense of the insanity, although I’m sure it still won’t do it justice.
Back in 2009, I had the chance to tag along with some friends to visit Six Flags, New Jersey. When we came down to the
Kingda Ka, I was quite sure that I wouldn’t be able to make it alive if I stepped into the monster ride, so I took a pass
(in other words, I chickened out 
). My friends, however, jumped aboard and strapped themselves foolishly for some high-
speed torture.
And away they went. I watched every second of their mad journey – the insane take-off that nearly snapped a few necks, the unreal climb towards the apex 456 feet high, the nerve-wrecking twists to spice up the agony, the almost cruel vertical belly-drop coming back down and the smooth dragon-hump at the end to serve as icing on the cake. Thrilling. Horrific. Demonic.
At the end of the expedition, adjectives were flying all over the place, along with the choicest expletives. But, even though I was completely engrossed with the entire action, I still had to ask my friends an innocuous question:
“So, what did it feel like?”.
Lane switch.
Heard of a place called ‘Madrasah’? I’m sure you have. Its been in the news in recent times albeit for the wrong reasons. And you’ve probably read articles, theories and judments regarding the system but, at the end of the day, most of the people authoring them do so in the capacity of observers. However, having attended a madrasah for over a couple of years now (and not to mention, coming from a background which the readers of this blog can relate to), I thought it wouldn’t hurt to put in an “IMHO” to the discussion. After all, you’ve read the speculation – now, maybe its time you hear the experience.
Kingda Ka to Madrasahs – curve ball. I think I outdid myself there.
Moving on.
Q: How in the world did I end up there?
In my last semester at Penn, I made a consious decision to take on only one course. The previous semester was particularly painful and I needed a break before I graduated and started my formidable job hunt in the smack middle of an economic crisis. Since I had some free time on hand, I thought I’d make use of it in some other way.
Certifications were one of the things that came into mind but I decided against it because I needed relief from all the technical cerebration. While browsing my options, I stumbled upon this site called “SunniPath” which had this fascinating assortment of Islamic courses. It caught my interest and I started shortlisting courses that I liked. In the end, I decided on a course called “Tajweed” which dealt with rules of proper enunciation of the Quran.
The 10-week course was amazing. It, first, completely dismissed my petty assumption that I knew a thing or two about reciting the Quran. Secondly, I simply fell in love with performing Tilawat. I suddenly found that I could go on reading the Quran for hours and not get tired. My prayers went up a notch too. It was strange. Yet wonderful.
After Penn was over and I was back in Pakistan, I discovered my father and brother were regularly visiting a Madrasah to learn Tajweed as well from a young Qari. I was surprised by the coincidence and I thought it was a great opportunityto keep practicing, so I started joining them soon after.
The few months of working with the Qari was very rewarding. He worked extremely patiently with me to polish my recitation and didn’t mind me making mistake after mistake. He encouraged us all and more than anything truly believed that we could recite like pros (which I still think is a long shot!).
One day while we dropped by for our routine drill, he suggested that we enroll for the Aalim Program aka Dars-e-Nizami. We didn’t know much about the program then, other than the fact that it was something to do with lots of Arabic. I guess our Qari had sized us up to be nerds (an assessment I would sternly object to ), but we eventually decided that there was no harm in checking the lessons out.
Although this Madrasah (called Mahad-al-Bukhari) taught the traditional syllabus in the same way as any other Madrasah in the country, the audience they were catering to was specific to working professionals. The timings were setup just for us as we would check in with dreamy eyes at Fajr and go on till 10 am before scooting to our respective offices. It was like an Executive MBA, only less weirder
The Ride
To sum up my experience in a few points, here’s what I’ve generally felt:
1. Intellectual Perspiration
Without taking any pride in saying this, I’ve taken a fair number of tough courses at LUMS and Penn. And I don’t think I’d be wrong in saying that the stuff that the Madrasah threw at us was right up there when you come down to compare. One could argue that the difficulty is mainly contributed by the fact that the books were in Arabic. The truth is, however, we studied most of the books in Urdu first and boy, the concepts themselves were…intense.
So what do I study there?
Our second year syllabus mainly involved the following domains:
- Quranic Tafseer (Explication of the Quran)
- Nahw (Arabic Grammatical States)
- Sarf (Arabic Morphology)
- Hadith (Sayings of the Propher (SAW))
- Fiqh (Islamic Jurisprudence)
- Mantaq (Metaphysical Logic)
More than anything, I learnt to appreciate the people who have written astounding works that help you unravel the mechanics of Arabic. They just made it easy to consume. And for me, to simplify the complex reflects pure genius.
For example, in Nahw, there’s a lengthy discussion on how the last letter of a noun is to be pronounced, but we got to capture the process with systematic flow charts and tables. Or like in Sarf, its kind of puzzling to see minor tweaks in a single verb can change the meaning entirely, thus, indicating the power of Arabic. And in Mantaq, we would learn how to evaluate arguments and train ourselves to detect logical fallacies.
There’s this interesting anecdote where the intelligence of a Madrasah student was once questioned. A British man walked into a Madrasah with his son and he told the custodian how dull-headed and witless his Madrasah students were. He pointed out how all they did was rock back and forth and indulge in mindless rote learning which he felt was pointless. The custodian decided to test the proposition. He pointed towards a nearby pond and asked the man’s son how much water was in it. The little boy was clueless. It seemed like an unfair question.
The custodian then called up one of his Madrasah boys and asked him the same question. The Madrasah student replied: ”Well, if the cup you use is the size of the pond, then there’s one cup of water. If the cup is half the size of the pond, then its two cups of water…”. Wits.
2. Gateways to Clarity
I get to talk to a lot of people on a regular basis who are embroiled in confusions regarding the Deen. I’m no different to be honest; I lie in the same category. But what’s refreshing about life now, is that I’ve got an authorized and genuine place where I can take this confused mind and breath some air of clarity into it. (as opposed to attempting to craft my own logic or asking the closest bearded person with little regard to his qualification )
Questions regarding the difference between “Wajib” and “Fard”, is the beard mandatory, is interest really Haraam, is taking pictures allowed, how can music be prohibited, extent to how much I can intermingle with the opposite sex, what do you mean by Taqleed etc. – all of this and much more float around the mind of the average citizen and the indecision eventually leads him or her into doing something completely nonsensical.
Moreover, it was here that I understood how Islam is a way of life rather than a religion limited to rituals. One could question how we could possibly “Islamize all aspects of civil life from schools to hospitals to government offices“.
Truth is: you can. That’s what we learn in Fiqh & Hadith – the subjects cover an entire spectrum of domains including buying, selling, employment, rent, trade, marriage, divorce, ethics, welfare and the list goes on and on. From what rights a buyer has when he buys something with a defect to how a property dispute is to be resolved : it’s all there.
If we treat the Deen and this world as entirely two separate entities, then we’d be killing the gist of Islam which is to submit to the will of the Almighty – not at certain times, or ocassions but at every instant of our life. And from what I see, there’s pretty much a Sunnah way of doing everything.
Just like you’d hire a butcher to chop up your cow or get a hitman to get someone off your back , it seems only logical to touch base with an expert i.e. Mufti in the matters of the Deen. I question sometimes as to why people don’t consult them more often. In some ways, these folks are like doctors: They want to help save lives; they’ve seen people do the worst crap ever but all so often, they find remedies for everything you throw at them. The difference is that they won’t ask you to pull your pants down while they’re at it
But on a more serious note, I’ve found my Madrasah teachers to understand worldly affairs quite well mainly because the course that they’ve specialized in demands them to understand myriads of real-life situations. If we truly believe that the Prophet (SAW) was sent for true guidance, a person who knows his life in-and-out would mean he’s equipped for ultimate success. And for me, that in itself deserves respect. To still call them ‘illiterate’ just because they don’t know what Hume had to say in Treatise or they disagree with modern liberal values would be a bit unfair it seems.
3. The Framework that worked
In my early days at the Madrasah, our teachers taught us a framework to study which was guaranteed to lead to better comprehension, retention and superior performance in exams. Although I wouldn’t claim that the concept was completely novel, I still hadn’t come across any institution that tried to enforce it in the way the Madrasah did. The framework consisted of the following components:
(a) Mutaliya: Teachers expect you to study the material for the next lesson beforehand. Crack the arabic, check out the reference text to unravel the meanings, identify questions you might have and practice.
(b) Sabaq: the most important part. This simply involves attending the lesson that the teacher gives. Attendance is crucial in Dars-e-Nizami. At times, relying solely on yourself to understand the text can lead to spiralling confusions.
(c) Taqraar: Go back home, revise and preferably study in a group so you can cross-question to see whether everyone understood the concept correctly.
Common-sense, huh? I can’t say I followed this model consistently (due to my own shortcomings of course) but the chapters where I practiced the above, were the chapters I ended up knowing the best.
4. Everyone’s invited
There’s no specific profile that the Madrasah looks out for and there isnt any exacting criteria either. Whoever wants to invest their time in learning the Deen is welcome and their background, attire or profession doesn’t earn them any preferential treatment or otherwise.
From college students to Phds, from police officers to doctors, from chemical engineers to store owners: we’ve got ‘em all. Of course, the more traditional forms of the institution require more time commitments and students are enrolled full time in that case but their backgrounds are equally diverse.
Contrary to what people would usually think, there’s a huge number of women enrolled in such programs throughout the country. Far from being ostracized, they are active members of the academic infrastructure both in the teaching and student roles. My wife who has attended such Madrasahs in Islamabad and now teaches in Lahore tells me how she notices a growing number of females from top line universities like Lums, Kinnaird and NCA are gradually joining the fold. What’s more, around 100,000 females across the nation were estimated to have given their board exams this year. So much for ‘a male-dominated movement‘.
And Kids! There’s always a group of minnie minors making their way to the desks to memorize the Quran (aka hifz). The usual footage in the news probably shows these little dudes lined up, rocking with an emphatic back and forth motion. No, they are not ‘cruel hypnotic exercises’ , rather a method to generate a rhythm while reciting the verses. It helps.
5. Agenda-less
Well, at least in my two years, I really didn’t see the Madrasah trying to inject a larger agenda in our minds. Some
observations:
- Not once was a political party mentioned in any of the classes.
- The Madrasah is funded by donations from the community and I can say none of the donors belonged to a mafia group
- Do they talk about Jihad? Yes, they do. Because maybe the Holy Prophet (SAW) was a Mujahid?
- Do they ask us to blow ourselves up? Umm…no.
- Do they talk about other sects? If you ask them, yes, they will share their strong views. But that discussion is still taken up in academic manner. They don’t mind you cross-questioning and they certainly don’t fire empty darts in the air – they have interesting arguments to support what they say, whether you choose to agree or disagree at the end is completely your own choice.
6. Humans! Woohoo!
Our teachers are an interesting bunch too. Outside the Madrasah, some are teachers at universities like LUMs, some make Android apps for a living and others are batch toppers of the best Madrasahs in Pakistan.
The best thing is that they are mortals like us who we can easily relate to. They’ve got humble demeanors and enjoy jokes and like to have a laugh. They’re witty. They play football. They swim. They talk about current affairs. And yes, they love to have a good meal (hey, who doesn’t?). The last thing they seem is ‘barbaric’, ‘violent’ and ’evil’.
I know that people will still continue to point fingers and recall instances where the institution was seen in a bad light. All I’ll say is that I’m glad Allah gave me a chance to cut through the chaff and see the other side of the story…and realize that there’s a goldmine of Hidayah to be found here; it’s just about giving it a chance.
I remember reading an article about a LUMS graduate and his epic journey rising from humble beginnings in Quetta to the epitome of prestige i.e. Harvard University. It was quite inspirational to see someone achieve such a feat against all odds. It might not be the best analogy but at some level, I feel the same way. Allah has really blessed me with the opportunity to journey from a fine place like Penn to find a higher calling in the honorable classrooms of Ma’had-al-Bukhari.
Alhamdulillah.
