An Eye-Watering Story

You need to report this to the Police as discrimination. That’s the only language these Masjid committees understand. Don’t let them use previously used emotional blackmail tactics (threatening your akhirah and the like because you’re challenging the masajid committees and going against the Masjid, nothing but taboo), they will only get their act together if they have a formal warning that something must be done to rectify the situation otherwise they’ll be consequences.

It’s sad to say but the upper management of Deobandi mosques is always riddled with such uncompassionate elders that continue to count the incomings in a miserly way but when it comes to changing a brick for any kind of compelling reason such as this one, they take a hard stance and come up with a hundred excuses to stop work from being done.

Well done to the Abu Hanifa Foundation – it’s not surprising cos I hear they are all Young people who have been blessed with knowledge and understanding about these kinds of issues. Well done to them though for stepping up and indirectly shaming the other establishments for their refusals.

Memoirs from a madrasa

In 1992 at the age of 12 I was admitted into an Islamic School. I left home and move there for 4 years. At that time I was young, naive and simply didnt know what I was getting myself into. How could I? Even my parents didn’t know how torturous and brutal life was about to become.

I recall a time when my mother phoned me whilst I was there, and she told me to come home quick as my father was ill in hospital. I hadn’t seen my family for about 3 months and as soon as I heard my dad was ill, my world stopped and I quickly rushed to the secretary’s office to inform him and ask for leave.

I went in, and the big and bulky Secretary was there alongside one of the esteemed scholars, a Mufti. I informed the secretary about my dads illness and he asked me to fill in a form which he would sign. I started to look for a pen and I saw the pen next to the Mufti and I asked him to pass the pen as it was next to him, all of a sudden I felt a thumping slap on my face, my eardrum was ringing, I fell to the ground dazed, i could see the Secretary above me shouting at me, I asked him why he slapped me, he shouted back “how dare you ask your teacher to pass you a pen!! Don’t you know what respect is!!”

He was referring to “ADAB” a respect which is demanded in madrasa for your teachers..I only asked him for the pen as it was nearest to him. I got up and apologised, all I wanted was a signature so I could get leave and quickly get on a train and go see my dad. Yet there was no sympathy, instead this man felt snapping a 13 Year old to the ground was him teaching me what ADAB is. Anyway I got the signature, he then informs me that i now need to go and see Qari Saab and show him this form and he would allow me leave.

I didn’t want to go to the qari saab, the wickedest man I ever met, the most ruthless bastard I had the displeasure of meeting. I feared him, I had been beaten up by him on many occasions. I had no choice but to go to his office. I slowly walked to his office, my ear drum still ringing, head spinning but all I wanted was to see my dad.

I knocked on his door, I could head him reciting the Holy Quran as per usual. I entered, he was sitting down and reciting aloud the Noble Verses of the Quran, alongside him was a fellow senior student who had the Quran open and helping the Qari sab as he was reciting without looking at the Quran. I was standing up as I was waiting for him to tell me to sit. He had his cane on one hand, and whilst he was reciting the verses from the Quran in a rhythmic way, he shouted in a rhythmic way “betja machli ke baaacheeeeee!” (Sit down you son of a fish) his racist comment towards most Bengalis as we eat a lot of fish. I sat down, I waited for him to stop his recitation so I could hand him the form, as he recites he is staring at me menacingly, and with another verse from the Quran on his lips, he gets his rubber cane and whips it right across my right knee, not touching me, but this was his way of terrifying me, I shivered as the cane was only inches away from my knee, he then recited more words from the Quran and he whipped his cane to my left side, by this I jumped in fear as it was only inches away. What kind of sick bastard does this whilst reciting the Quran, he obviously got kicks seeing children being fearful. Again this went on for a couple of minutes. Tears rolled down my eyes, all I wanted was to get permission to see my sick dad, and here’s these supposed men of God treating me worse than an animal. I had lost my dignity, my shame, I simply was made to feel worthless.

The Qari saw my tears and as he recited, he said “Bol machli ke baache, kis liye aaya?” (Tell me son of a fish why have you come?) I replied “mere walid sab bemar he, mujhe ghar jaana he” (my father is ill, I need to go home”.. he then kept reciting and just looking at me, I was just eager for him to tell me to go, as he recited he hit his cane again towards my left knee, then to my right knee, then I just lost it…as he struck the cane again towards my knee, I instinctively grabbed the cane and shouted “what’s wrong with you, yoy psycho!! I just want to go home!!”

And with that said, he looked shocked and I knew I had to run!! I got up and ran out the room, the Qari shouted to his student to chase me, I ran as fast as I could, it was the most scariest moment of my life, I ran so fast…I wish I could tell you that I escaped..but the student caught me, I begged him to release me, but his student was a loyal student..instead he grabbed my legs and pulled me across the corridor towards the Qari, I was screaming for help, no one came, everyone heard my screams, everyone saw me being dragged that day, but everyone became deaf and blind.

I felt the Qari put his knee onto my back as the student passed me onto his master, his knees crushed into my back, a 15 stone bulky man on a little 13 year old boy. He grabbed both my ears as my face was towards the floor, as he grabbed them he suddenly let go and with both the palms he thumped both my ears…it was excruciating pain. He slapped my head many times, I cried I screamed, he turned me around and whipped me with his cane, every part of my little body was battered that day by his whip… I lost consciousness whilst the beating took place.

I regained consciousness, I saw the mufti intervening, begging the Qari to stop. He reluctantly stopped, he was breathless. The mufti picked me up, took me to his office, I couldn’t walk, I was crying, disoriented. I don’t recall how I got to the office, but I recall the mufti comforting me, telling me that when teachers hit you, it’s actually a blessing as that part of the body will not touch he’ll fire.

Obviously that’s a load of bullshit, but at the time It didn’t make a difference. He told me that he would drop me to the train station, and I should promise not to tell my parents, social services about what happened as the madrasa would be in trouble and I would be cursed by God if anything happened to the madrasa.

I remember believing that..and simply saying “I just want to see my dad”. I remember him dropping me off to the train station, Even giving me sweets for the journey. I remember coming home and seeing Dad, I hugged my dad and mum, they had no idea what their child was suffering, they had no idea of the beatings..my dad was ill, I didn’t want to burden my parents when they had their own worries. I remember looking at my body when I went home, my whole body had cane marks on. But there was no more tears to be shed, I couldn’t cry anymore..I became desensitised by the beatings, I became a victim of indoctrination.

To this very day, my 4 years in madrasa still gives me nightmares. When I see videos of child abuse, I can’t tolerate it as I remember I too was a victim. This was not Islam, this is not what my religion taught, it was simply psycho men beating young children up..it’s as simple as that.

Thanks to stricter laws this doesn’t happen anymore in madrasas…not because they realised it was wrong..they stoped because of stricter laws and because of child safety measures. No child in any institution should ever have to suffer the way myself and my generation of children suffered, no child should ever be emotionally blackmailed or indoctrinated.

Maybe my past sufferings as a child made me intolerant against seeing children suffer, hence my work to support children in refugee camps or poor countries. Maybe, who knows..but what I do know is those dark days made me realise that looks are deceiving, not every big bearded guy is pious, not everyone who recites the Quran is holy…What is important is the internal characteristics of a human, what’s important is how we treat one another..that is the fundamentals of humanity.

Shah Lalon Amin

P.s. retarded guji Madrasa system only incubates Monkeys….. arseholes should be reported to police locked away in a mental faculty. ????

I agree there is a lot of that and my opinion is that the commitee members mostly (but it’s changing with the new generation) are not educated, specially in Islamic terms. They are unable to grasp that opening and accepting of others in not a sell out to your own Mazhab etc. Alhumdolillah I am a gujarati and on a Commitee member who was of the younger generation. Yes, I found many aspects of the way things are run very disheartening. Alhumdolillah we now have one of the best Masjid open days and we use younger members to volunteer for various events or community programmes we deliver.
I think you are a bit harsh in your criticism as all ethnic groups are guilty of this but Gujarati’s are probably a community who may have most number of masajids under their control. Also remember there are no paid admin positions in most masaajids so the person or people whom run day to day running of the masjid would decline a request without first taking advice etc.