I am an Ahmadi

I am an Ahmadi who was brought up in the West. I have faced a constant struggle reconciling my Islam with my western liberal values. Now, I am an Ahmadi living in Pakistan. Here I struggle even to be a Muslim, for according to the laws and tenets of the land, I should have no Islam at all. I find myself living in a society which does not acknowledge my right to believe, my right to affirm my beliefs and my right to act in accordance with my beliefs. And this is because I am an Ahmadi. I am according to some a Kafir, an infidel, a disbeliever who deserves to be put to death. But according to God I am a human being, one miniscule strand of his infinite creation. And of course, I am an Ahmadi.  I stand on the fault lines of the war on terror, of the so -called clash of civilizations. My plight is the fault lines. When I am back in the West I am at full liberty to profess my faith, to choose my mode of life and freely express it, to call myself what I am; A Muslim. But even there I cannot escape the hatred and terror that has become the sad hallmark of what is today called ‘Islam’. The people I have known all my life, whom I have grown up with and loved as though they were my own kith and kin, look upon the religion of God’s prophet with horror and disgust. Thus, in the place I once called home I am barred from building my minarets because I am a Muslim, and here I cannot make the call to prayer from my minarets because I am a disbeliever. Neither here nor there, I oscillate between two hostile worlds, for I am an outsider to all. Nay, I am an Ahmadi. Continents and ideologies collide within me. I have come back to the land of my forbears and found only the black trees of death and destruction. I have come to the land of my father’s birth but it has not claimed me as a son, because I am an Ahmadi. The believers share my infidel air, we breathe together but it is only I who suffocate. I have known the pain of watching my friends and brothers die on frenzied news reels and known the anguish of what it is to be truly helpless. I have watched as anchormen and reporters discuss not the waste of human life, but the nationality and attire of the assailants and the type of weapons they used to blow open the ‘gates of heaven’. I have witnessed silent politicians issue mildly embarrassed denunciations of the death of my people but I have not seen them act, because I am an Ahmadi. I have seen old men on the edge of life bury their sons with tranquil faces and mothers rejoice at heroic deaths. I have seen whole oceans of people prostrate before their God with patience and humility asking only for his mercy and grace. I have seen all this because I am an Ahmadi.


3 Responses to “I am an Ahmadi”

  1. Amir Mahmood Says:

    Thankyou for wirting about Ahmadiyyat, at last.

  2. That is both beautiful and heartbreaking. I can relate to the feeling of not belonging in either the east or the west – there is nothing like being on the receiving end of violent racism from those you thought were your own people. I cannot conceive of the tragedy you have witnessed. My thoughts are with you. Be safe.

  3. My compliments, once again.


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