Leaving Islam — My Journey Towards Atheism
I was born in a Sufi Sunni (Muslim) family and was raised as a moderate Muslim. My first memory of my father is of us sitting in a park in Karachi. I was pulling the grass out and he held my hand and stopped me. He told me that it is forbidden in Islam to harm any living being. I said that it is just grass, not an animal or insect. And my dad said that we are not supposed to harm the plants or the grass; they are also living beings and we will be held accountable if we harm anything without any reason.
I was raised by Sufi parents. The Islam I was taught was very different from the “true” Islam. I was taught a soft and moderate version of Islam. I call it the Islam of apologists. I grew up listening to Qawali — Sufi music, attending Islamic concerts (called mahafil-e-sama), singing nasheeds on duff and other musical instruments. I was taught that Allah is a very kind being who loves a human being more than the combined love of 70 mothers. I was taught to love Allah, not fear him. Growing up, I believed that the biggest reward for a believer, who will go to paradise, will be seeing Allah and Muhammad. The desire for servants and gold and eternal life seemed meaningless.
I was a very devoted Sufi Muslimah and very happy in my life. Everything seemed to be perfect. I used to offer prayers, sing nasheeds, read the Quran (in Arabic), and do all the things a good Muslim should do. It all changed when I got the news of my father’s accident. I was told that he was severely injured. I was 15 and was in class. I rushed back to my home, did wudu and sat on the prayer mat. That was the first time I asked god for anything. I believed that he would listen to my prayers and my dad would be fine. All my life I had read and listened to stories of Allah’s mercy and miracles and I knew that my prayers would be heard. The news of my dad’s death left me shocked. I couldn’t believe that my god would not save my dad — a man who lived his whole life following Allah. I was heartbroken and sad and I felt betrayed. It was then that I started questioning my god and if worshipping him was really worth it?
I was told that I would spend an eternity with my dad but I kept thinking why would I believe a god’s promise of eternity who didn’t save my dad? At that time I was still a believer but I stopped worshipping him. I stopped praying, I stopped fasting, I stopped reciting the Quran or doing any of my religious duties. I went to a war against god. I very well believed that I would be burnt in hellfire, for eternity, but the hatred in my heart, against a cruel and heartless god who wouldn’t save my dad, was too strong to fear me into submission.
This went on for years. I was living in a hostel and during Ramzan, my roommates would wake me up for Sahoor and ask me to join them in prayers. I wanted to say no but I was scared of being called a blasphemer for expressing my views. I had to wake up at 4:00 am in the morning and offer prayer. I would just sit on the prayer mat and ask god why didn’t he save my dad? Why wouldn’t he answer my prayer? I was angry all the time and one day, in frustration and anger, I tore the Quran apart. It was then when I realized that I was angry at someone who doesn’t even exist.
I was scared because of what I did. Destroying the holy book is blasphemy and I had no hope of mercy from a cruel god who wouldn’t answer the prayers of 15 year old me. Why would that god spare me? I spent some days in fear but nothing happened. And I started questioning the very existence of god.
I then started studying Islam critically. I started reading the Quran with translation, Islamic history, hadith, life of prophet Muhammad, and I realized that Islam was nothing like it was taught to me. The religion was inherently violent and misogynist. From music to traveling, everything I loved to do, everything that gave my peace and happiness, was actually forbidden in Islam. I learned about the horrible treatment of people in Islam, the inhuman punishments for sins like listening to music, the status of women, and it all filled me with anger and rage. I couldn’t believe that I was following a god who was so cruel and I followed a religion that was so barbaric.
Why would a god create a human being, whom he loves more than 70 mothers, and then make him a slave of another human being? It made zero sense to me. Why wouldn’t god end slavery? Why would a god create people who rape, murder, and do all sort of crimes? Why are Muslims being persecuted all over the world and god isn’t doing anything to help them? Why was god a silent spectator when Hussain and his whole family was being murdered by Yazid in the battle of Karbala?
The stories written in the Quran were ridiculous. Muhammad flying to the heavens on a donkey with the face of a woman while time stopped on the earth blew my mind. Eve’s creation from Adam’s rib was not just misogynist, the idea of creating a women from a man’s DNA also didn’t make any sense to me. I was told that all these things were miracles and miracles, by definition, are events that don’t follow the rules of physics or genetics or science.
I had so many questions but no answers. I was told that I should never think on these lines, that this thought is implanted in my head by the devil. But once you start questioning religion, this answer doesn’t satisfy you. I started following some ex-Muslims on social media. I started discussing with them and it was nice to know that I wasn’t alone.
Leaving Islam was the most painful thing that ever happened to me. It was a long and a very painful process that took me years. I was told by many ex-Muslim atheists that it liberated them, but for me, it was different. Yes, not following a man made religion and a fake god was liberating but realizing that I was lied to was not pleasant. I’ll write about it in my next blog.
