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Hiba Masood a writer, speaker and a story teller talks about her Baba’s influence in teaching Quran and its holy threads in her wonderful opinion piece “Baba, The Quran and Me”. When she was in her younger age, she had to recite Quran every day, that her Baba taught her to do so without fail. She memorizes her childhood experience in the holy month of Ramadan as well as her Baba’s powerful Ramadan experiences. Her Baba looked after all his children with extreme care. She had not faced poverty or any other means difficulties in life. Baba used to talk about his life and his days spent with his eight brothers and sisters used to look like. They were like in abject poverty, splitting one bowl of food for Iftar amongst a family of eleven and so on. Baba used to say that once all the work is done, you should recite Quran in every single possible minute. Every letter you recite during Ramadan has 70 times the regular reward? That means every letter, like saying Alif, gets you seven hundred good deeds.

Years passed and with all the impetuous, rebellion of youth, of spending my days in smoke-filled rooms, strategizing with socialist/activists, and my evenings protesting against the Iraq war on the frozen streets of Toronto. Of not praying at all, of not so much as glancing towards the dusty shelf where my Qur’an sat the entire year. Next year Hiba got married and her brand new husband got astonished by her behavior and activities. She never proper placed her shoes and she always misplaced her cell phone. And she blessed with a baby boy just before the month of holy Ramadan. And there have many, many more years filled with anxiety, scary financial strain and a stormy marriage of sickness and grief. Years passed with no changes. Hiba recited Quran verses just as a routine, or just like fasting in the month of Ramadan without knowing the rewards of reciting. At last wisdom came to her brain at the age of thirty and she started to settle in life. Slowly, as an enthusiastically expected reconnection, she started reciting Quran well to Allah to the Qur’an to her childhood, to her father and to herself.

Now her beloved father is aging and sick and she is in great agony by thinking about her sick dad. She used to caress his dad’s grey hair, press her cheeks to his. She says that she misses him a lot and she is afraid of the future. But most of all, she whisper her gratitude. Gratitude for gifting her so freely all the things, all the lessons, all the beliefs, all the forces of habit and inspiring stories and abiding, enriching traditions that have blessed her life. Ultimately he was the lighthouse when he was able.

Original Article