My Little Breathing Space - I write for the few, not the many. The few that are left out!

Naseehah (Principal Forum Conference)

Shaykh Muhammad Saleem Dhorat (hafidhahullāh)

1st September 2025

Those who have selected ta’līm as their occupation, they have been classed as the best of people by  Nabī ﷺ. 

خَيْرُكُمْ مَنْ تَعَلَّمَ الْقُرْآنَ وَعَلَّمَهُ

Abū Abdur-Rahmān as-Sulamī who narrated this hadīth to his students from Hadrat Uthman said that it is this hadīth which is the reason for me sitting here today. From the time of Hadrat ‘Uthmān to the time of Hajjāj bin Yūsuf, he continued teaching in one place, one Masjid – and it was due to this hadīth. Hence, those who teach are very valuable in the sight of Allāh. 

The ‘Ulamā are the inheritors of the Anbiyā. What is their duty? Ta’līm and Tarbiyyah.

لَقَدْ مَنَّ ٱللَّهُ عَلَى ٱلْمُؤْمِنِينَ إِذْ بَعَثَ فِيهِمْ رَسُولًۭا مِّنْ أَنفُسِهِمْ يَتْلُوا۟ عَلَيْهِمْ ءَايَـٰتِهِۦ وَيُزَكِّيهِمْ وَيُعَلِّمُهُمُ ٱلْكِتَـٰبَ وَٱلْحِكْمَةَ

What was the mission of Rasūlullãh ﷺ?

1. Tilāwah – teach them the words of the Qur’ān
2. Tazkiyah – purify their hearts from shirk, spiritual illnesses etc.
3. Tafsīr of Qur’ān – teach them the explanation of the Qur’ān alongside the words
4. Sunnah 

رَبَّنَا وَابْعَثْ فِيهِمْ رَسُولًا مِّنْهُمْ يَتْلُو عَلَيْهِمْ آيَاتِكَ وَيُعَلِّمُهُمُ الْكِتَابَ وَالْحِكْمَةَ وَيُزَكِّيهِمْ ۚ إِنَّكَ أَنتَ الْعَزِيزُ الْحَكِيمُ

After Ibrāhīm AS made the house of Allāh with Ismā’īl AS, he didn’t stop there, but he made the above du’ā – he asked to send someone with these specific four qualities. The first three of these qualities are connected to ta’līm and the last one is connected to tarbiyyah. 

If we summarise these missions, they come down to two things – Ta’līm and Tarbiyyah.

Nabī ﷺ has said,

إِنَّمَا بُعِثْتُ لِأُتَمِّمَ صَالِحَ الأَخْلاقِ

إِنَّمَا بُعِثْتُ مُعَلِّمًا

There is no one better than Nabī saw in this world – Allah gave him knowledge and did his tarbiyyah

وَعَلَّمَكَ مَا لَمۡ تَكُن تَعۡلَمُۚ وَكَانَ فَضۡلُ ٱللَّهِ عَلَيۡكَ عَظِيمٗا

Nabī ﷺ has said,

أدبني ربي فأحسن تأدیبي

So Allah gave Nabī ﷺ ta’līm, hence he was a muta’allim, and Allah did his tarbiyyah so he was murabba at that time. He then became the murabbī and mu’allim of this ummah. He did ta’līm and tarbiyyah of this ummah.

إِنَّ الْعُلَمَاءَ وَرَثَةُ الأَنْبِيَاءِ

This duty was then passed onto the people of knowledge. It is a great virtue and a tremendous ihsān from Allāh ﷻ upon those who take on this responsibility. Our job is Ta’līm and Tarbiyyah. Our responsibility is Ta’līm and Tarbiyyah. When we sit for 2–3 hours in a maktab, our purpose should always be Ta’līm and Tarbiyyah.

Take an example: if a man doesn’t know that his purpose is to go to town and buy a coat, he may go—but he won’t know which shop to enter or what to do. If he doesn’t know what he’s buying, he won’t know where to go. However, if a child knows his mother has given him money to buy chocolate, he will go to the right shop, in the right area, and buy the right thing. The point is: when you know the purpose of something, you won’t waste time—you’ll fulfil the duty.

The purpose of our teaching is Ta’līm and Tarbiyyah.

Our job is to teach both ‘Ilm and ‘Amal. It’s not enough to just say, “We should lower our gaze.” We must also teach how to do that. A weakness today is that we say what needs to be said, but we don’t forbid the wrong in practice. If someone is doing something wrong, it’s either due to a lack of knowledge or a lack of tazkiyah.

Tarbiyyah is not done through r’ub and khawf , but through shawq (desire) and muhabbah (love). A child should look forward to your class and your lessons. From the morning, they should be waiting eagerly for 5pm. If they develop love for you, they will want to come. That is how you do their Tarbiyyah—through muhabbah. The child’s progress in Ta’līm and Tarbiyyah is directly tied to your progress towards the ākhirah.

Story of Muhājir Umm Qays: Nabī ﷺ was giving Tarbiyyah. If a mistake was not corrected, the mistake would have continued.

There is a difference between parhāna (to lecture) and sikhāna (to teach practically). If you take a recipe book and explain the recipe of biryani in an excellent manner, the girls won’t be able to make biryani just from that. That is parhāna. But sikhāna is different—you have to teach practically too. You teach the knowledge, but you also teach how to implement it.

A young man once came to Nabī ﷺ and said he felt the urge to commit zina. If it was only about propagating, Nabī ﷺ would have just said, “It is harām.” But Nabī ﷺ knew the boy already had the knowledge—what he lacked was Tarbiyyah. So Nabī ﷺ began his Tarbiyyah: he asked the young man how he would feel if someone did this with his mother, daughter, or sister. The boy replied that he would dislike it. Nabī ﷺ explained that the woman he wishes to commit adultery with is also someone’s daughter, sister, or mother.

Notice—Nabī ﷺ did not shout at him. He did not say, “How dare you ask such a thing? Don’t you know zina is harām?” Instead, he gave Tarbiyyah. Then, he placed his hand on the young man’s chest and made du‘ā:

‎اللَّهُمَّ اغْفِرْ ذَنْبَهُ، وَطَهِّرْ قَلْبَهُ، وَحَصِّنْ فَرْجَهُ

“O Allāh, forgive his sin, purify his heart, and protect his chastity.”

After this, the young man never even looked at a non-mahram. This was the extent to which Nabī ﷺ went in doing Tarbiyyah.

We really need to understand our purpose.

Before leaving the house, we should think: I am going to do Ta’līm and Tarbiyyah of my students. I must teach them knowledge and also how to practice it.

In the villages of India, even if a teacher wasn’t an ‘Ālim, he had concern (fikr) to see whether the students attended the masjid for ṣalāh.

A teacher should never be absent—not even once. Absence removes barakah. Be present physically, mentally, and wholeheartedly. The children’s time is an amānah. I go as far as saying that we shouldn’t even look at our mobile phones in class—that is khiyānah.

We should always feel the need for the suhbah of the buzurgs. When things succeed, we shouldn’t think it’s due to our own efforts, but rather the du‘ās of our teachers. 

The entire time should be spent behind the students—even during exams, don’t read your own books. Help them revise. Ml Islām ul Haq would listen to us—he didn’t just say, “Revise with one another” whilst he sat observing. He would listen to us even during exam time. He didn’t even need to open the kitāb. He listened to sabak every day of every child, sometimes even correcting us firmly when needed.

If you’ve finished sabak earlier one day, still occupy the children’s time. 

Qārī Raheem Baksh, a student of Qārī Panipatti, always arrived 5–10 minutes early and left 5–10 minutes late. If he had to travel abroad, even if his flight was at 2pm, he wouldn’t simply give a holiday. He would teach until he had to leave for the airport. And when he returned, if there was still time left in the day, he would first go to teach and only then return home.

Hadrat Qārī Siddīq Bandwi continued teaching even when his wife passed away. He was in great sorrow and wanted to cry—he would go to the toilet as an excuse to weep, then return to continue teaching. But he never left his Ta’līm.

If a madrasah is closed for a week due to issues in the building, how many teachers feel sad that the children are missing days of learning? Instead, many feel happy. This shows we don’t truly understand our purpose. If one madrasah has 50 days of holiday and another has 40, the second group should be happy for having ten extra days of Ta’līm, while the first should feel sad for having ten fewer—but today, it’s often the opposite.

We should note this and change our mindset. When school holidays began, my father would call students from the morning. Whether there was a wage or not, he would make them understand the value of using the holidays. He encouraged them to do a few extra ajzā’. He would take them with him to ẓuhr. If a child had not completed his lesson, he would keep him until he had finished—even if it was until 8pm because of just one student. It was not easy. 

Once, my father slipped due to a frosty surface and broke his hand. We rushed him to hospital, and by the time we returned home, it was nearly ‘aṣr. He quickly prayed ẓuhr and told me: “Go tell the mosque secretary that I have fever and a broken hand, so I cannot come to the mosque—but send the children to my house instead.” My mother said, “Leave it for one day.” But he replied, “Sabak cannot be missed.”

There are countless stories like this from our pious predecessors. Qārī Siddīq Bandwi writes about his teacher, Qārī Abdul Haleem. When asked to teach sab‘a qirā’āt, he replied: “I don’t have time. But after ẓuhr, the class I teach hidāyah to take 7–8 minutes to organise their kitābs. If you come then, I can teach you in those 7–8 minutes.” Later, he added: “Come after ‘ishā’ as well.” After some time he said: “Even this won’t be enough to complete within a year. So come from tahajjud till fajr.” The students would sleep in his house, and after praying tahajjud, he would wake them up and teach them until fajr.

We should put effort not only on the bright students, but also on those who struggle. A teacher once said to me that he wanted to stop teaching maktab because his class that year wasn’t as bright as previous cohorts. I told him to continue—and at the end of the year, he felt a great sense of satisfaction.

There was a ḥifẓ teacher who complained to me about a student who could only learn three lines a day. I asked him: “What would you do if he was your own child?” The boy continued and eventually completed his ḥifẓ in seven years, later becoming an ‘Ālim. Due to the patience of his teacher, the child achieved so much.

Nabī ﷺ said: “I am to you like a father is to his son.” Imām Shāfi‘ī mentioned that as a child, being an orphan, he received less attention from his teachers. Burhān al-A’immah, when students came to him after fajr, would teach them until midday, and only then would he teach his own son. His son complained: “You teach them at the best time, but me at the hardest time (when people are sleepy).” His father explained: “The others come from far away, so they deserve priority.” Both father and son sacrificed. Whoever puts effort on other people’s children, Allāh ﷻ will not deprive their own.

A teacher has limited time, but it is his duty that if someone does not understand, he should teach them again in his free time. Imām Shāfi‘ī explained something 17 times to a student who still didn’t understand. Out of embarrassment, the student left. Imām Shāfi‘ī called him back and said: “I will explain again.”

Rabi‘ ibn Sulaymān, a beloved student of Imām Shāfi‘ī, once heard his teacher say: “If I could feed you knowledge, I would feed it all to you.”

Every father wants better for his child. A sincere (mukhlis) teacher also wishes the same—that his students’ rank surpasses his own. Qārī Raheem Baksh could not eat if a student had failed to deliver sabak. At night, he would turn restlessly and do istighfār, thinking the fault lay in his own shortcomings.

We should have immense love for our students. Ml Mamlūk ‘Alī Sāhib would check on every student. If he heard that one was ill, he would travel far to visit him.

At Jāmi‘ah Islāmiyyah (Fatehpur), there was a principal, Maulānā Zuhoorul Islām. Once, a student became ill and cried when Mawlānā visited him. Hadrat comforted him, then went to the masjid to pray two rak‘ahs. His khādim overheard him making du‘ā: “O Allāh, this child has come from far. If shifā’ is not written for him, and death is written for him, then I also have a son—‘Aṭiyyatullāh. Take him instead.” Shortly after, he received news that his son was gravely ill. Before he could reach home, ‘Aṭiyyatullāh had passed away, while the student had recovered.

Even maktab teachers should do mutāla‘ah. They should think: How can I explain this to a child of such-and-such age? Mufti Sa‘īd Ahmad Pālanpūri once advised: “The time you spent in mutāla‘ah during your student days, now spend that much time thinking about how to teach in a way that your students can grasp that information.”

We should have the following bātinī asbāb:

1. Reverence

We should regard the spreading of knowledge as something great in our hearts. Allāh ﷻ sent an angel to our beloved Nabī ﷺ and chose the month of Ramadān and such a blessed place (Makkah). We should have love and reverence for this knowledge. There is a noticeable difference between a teacher who has azmat for knowledge in his heart and one who does not.

2. Love

Have love in your heart—for Allāh, for the students, and for the knowledge itself.

3. Sincerity

One should be sincere. There is nothing wrong with taking a wage. However, there is a difference between teaching for Allāh ﷻ and accepting a wage for livelihood, and teaching purely for the wage. Do we come to the madrasah just for the wage? Do we switch to another madrasah solely because it pays better? Teaching without ikhlās is one of the worst things. 

4. Taqwā

We should maintain taqwā in our hearts. Find a murabbī who can guide you—there are many shuyūkh around. Be serious and have concern for your own Tarbiyyah. How can we give Tarbiyyah to others if we lack it ourselves? We should be good examples for our students. Often, we instruct students to do something, yet we do not follow it ourselves—such as giving salam when entering the classroom or sitting appropriately. Our environments of madrasah should also be based on taqwa.

Hadrat Mawlānā Hashim, a very affectionate teacher of mine, once said that next to Jogwar Dārul ‘Ulūm, there is a vast piece of land. He suggested to Qari Siddeeq Sb that we should establish a Dārul ‘Ulūm for girls there and construct a large wall as a barrier between the two institutions. He also proposed that the holidays be arranged so that when the girls are going home, the boys are not present, and vice versa. For example, boys would have a holiday one day, and the girls would have their holiday the next day. Qari Siddeeq Sb listened to this proposal but responded thoughtfully:

“You may build a physical barrier between the two, but there is no barrier between thoughts and hearts. What wall can prevent thoughts like, ‘Such-and-such a girl from such a place is studying there’?”

I mention this because today we are familiar with all the rules and regulations, but as Mufti Shafi Sb said, “The biggest mufti is your heart.”

What is the meaning of parda? It means ensuring that thoughts of non-mahrams or inappropriate thoughts do not enter the heart. A niqab alone cannot achieve this. Someone once remarked that he found niqāb-clad women more of a fitna than women without a niqab. When I asked why, he explained that with a woman without a niqab, her reality is visible, but with a niqāb, the imagination of the nafs takes over. Our elders were extremely cautious about this. There should be taqwā in the madrasah: no casual messaging between genders, no unnecessary interactions. A mahram is a mahram, and a ghayr mahram is a ghayr mahram. Meetings shouldn’t take place with both genders in the same room, even with a niqāb.

In our madrasah, IDA, we currently combine lessons for girls and boys in Mishkāt and Daurah years. Insha’Allāh, we plan to make it fully independent in the future. During lessons, complete seriousness is maintained. Even sensitive hadiths, such as those about nāqisāt-‘aql, are never joked about. Besides one teacher, no one knows how many girls are studying or whose daughters are enrolled. Even I do not know how many girls are currently studying in Daurah Ḥadīth.

Before going to a lesson, when leaving your home, start by making du‘ā—for protection from Shayṭān and that you may fulfill the duty entrusted to you. Ask yourself: have I made enough preparations? After teaching, do shukr and istighfār. Ask yourself: did I teach the way I was supposed to?

Keep a connection with your elders—they have basīrah, and the nūr of ‘Ilm and Taqwā!