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How can you not be scared of Allah's punishment? We are only suppose to be frighten from Allah, and from His punishment. I came across this story on another forum:
(part1)
My childhood passed so quickly, I didn't notice. As soon as I was old enough to understand and stand on my own two feet, I followed the family tradition and made my way earning money. Thinking back to it I didn't really care whether I got it through halal means or haram. As long as I got it. And get it I did. Bucket loads of it. Lottery, bribes, bets, shady deals, interest based investments and business ventures, properties through mortgages, and of course many lucrative interest accounts to stash the cash- wthin days I was loaded, rolling in it. Money was my world.
I had everything- you name it I had it. All the latest fashions entered my household. The latest DVDs, mobile phones, plasma screens, fast cars, designer clothes... My life was on the up. To the poor I probably lived in heaven; but to me, Hollywood was heaven. I had every new film, drama, soap- and it was the norm for the whole family to watch at least one film together every night.
Everyone knew and respected me. They called me 'Hajji'. Yet with all my money I never took out the time to do even one Hajj. What with life full of parties, socials, events, get-togethers, birthdays- who had the time to do Hajj?
Religious people, on the other hand, were top of my list of 'Losers'. We'd laugh at them, 'diss' them and mock them. I mean they were crazy fanatics- people who tried to make life boring and difficult for themselves and everyone else. If I was ever with a bearded guy, I didn't know why but I felt uneasy. It was, however, my great chance to argue, and I'd argue it out till the end.
"PRAYER?- Oh come off it Sheikh. This is for people who have the time. Yeah when we're old and crippled- we'll sit and pray.
"FASTING- man!- What's the need for fasting? That's too extreme. OK I'll do a few. I mean, God's given us loads of food- we should eat it- it's the poor who don't have anything to eat who should fast.
"CHARITY- charity begins at home. What's more we all pay it already- that's the tax the government takes off us.
"BEARD- hey Sheikh, is this any age to keep a beard in? Do you want me to look like a terrorist? Why are you putting my rate down in the marriage market?
"NIKAB- I don't want my wife looking like a ninja. Anyway veiling is of the heart man, it's the intentions that show it.
"SADAQA- if Allah willed He would have fed all the poor- why should we feed who He hasn't fed?
"AKHIRA- yeah, this is what all you 'Maulvis' say to scare us- We'll be OK. I'll do Hajj later?"
I had the answer to everything. Time went on, and I became more and more careless. Then one day without warning my body packed in. I was rushed to hospital immediately. I found myself lying back on a bed, satring at the white ceiling. It was as if someone was playing a film across it and I saw scenes of my life flash past. All the times I thought I was alone, and no-one could see what I was doing- I should have known- Allah sees everything!
I was totally paralysed. I could barely get water down me, and it was the only thing I could take. The most skilled doctors were at my side. I heard the voices whispering, someone saying, "He's had a really bad heart attack." -someone else- "All we can do is pray"...
On hearing this, Ohh, what I went through... only Allah knows. I was completely in despair. That day, I realised what rubbish I used to speak, that music and songs bring peace to the heart. Now, when my heart most needed that peace, and tranquillity- why didn't I feel like listening to my beloved songs?
here's part two:
I cannot describe the pain i began to feel in my body as my soul was ripped out. It was as if someone were thrusting a drill machine into my flesh, then pulling it out and again thrusting it in with such force. It was as if someone had shoved a wet piece of cotton into some thorns and then pulled it out- shredding it completely. If even only the animals knew what I felt and went through, you would not find a single one of them well enough to eat.
Oh Allah! Oh my mother!- if only you had never given birth to me!
I heard the angel of death saying to me, "Get out you evil hated soul, from an evil body- there are glad tidings for you of boiling water, pus and blood to quench your thirst!" I felt my body begin to shred, as would a delicate silk cloth thrown through a thorny bush- and then abrubtly pulled out.
My feet went cold first, and then my ankles, and my soul was finally dragged from my body.
"....and then I died"
Black faced angels approached and wrapped my soul in acourse, rough, cloth. And, Ohh, the stench of it! It was as if someone had left a herd of dead carcasses to rot! Every time we passed some angels, they would be disgusted by the stench that reeked from me and would ask who I was. The angels carrying would reply- "He is so and so the son of so and so" and they referred to me using the worst of names.
How different to my life when I wore the best suits, the most expensive perfumes, so that when I passed by, people would know who it was from the smell of my perfume.
As we went higher to the skies, I heard the voices of the angels in my ears-they were cursing me!- Invoking Allah's curse on me...!
We reached the gate and permission was asked to enter, but the gates did not open. I heard a voice saying, "The doors of the skies are not opened to these kinds of people-them going to heaven is as likely as a camel passing through the eye of a needle."
With this I was thrown back down to earth.
Back on earth my funeral was being announced. They were calling me 'Hajji Sahib'. I remembered that whenever I used to hear that speaker announcing someone's death from the masjid, I used to chuckle and say, "Oh well, another one bites the dust."
I never imagined that one day my name would be announced from the mouth of this loudspeaker too.
People were crying and screaming. Some even started to pull their hair- if only they knew that I would have to face the punishment of their lamenting.
My youngest daughter was holding my hands to her cheeks as the tears fell from her eyes. The others were cradling my legs and feet. My wife kept glancing at my face and weeping.
I felt someone touch my forehead tenderly- it was my mother.
Amid everything, th adhan for asr prayer was called. But everyone ignored it. At this time I began shouting and screaming to them- that, "I am dead. for me it's over- but you- you're still alive- you still have a chance- save yourselves!" But who could hear me?
My body was then taken and laid flat on a board for bathing. The maulvi from the local mosque was called. He began pressing my stomach to allow any impurities to exit. He then put on a glove and began pouring water over my whole body, 3 times, and after this he washed the parts of my body that you wash for wudhu.
That same maulvi, whom I'd despised and made fun of, whom I'd always kept away from...- was the only one coming to my aid now.
When I was alive, I thought money was everything, and that was all I spent time on collecting and so now I had nothing. No good deeds to save me, help me, or at least lessen a part of this unbearable torture..!
They wrapped my body in beautiful fine quality linen, and laid me in an expensive coffin lined with velevt. I wanted to ask- why are they spending so much on me? what use was to to me?- I was dead!
One of my sons came with the photographer, who began expertly taking my pictures, from every angle. Then the video makers came with a camcorder. They began filming my body, and people were coming forward especially dressed nicely for the film. Now I understood the expensive linen and coffin..
They began carrying me to the burial ground. From the sounds of the footsteps I estimated that the numbers following were in 1000s. Yet for a poor, righteous person, who stood up in the night for tahajjud, not even 50 people would collect for his janazah.
People were already waiting in the burial ground and were gossiping about their jobs, lives- all worldly topics. If only they could see my state...
Then, as was the custom my sons called out to all the people present, to come forward if their father owed anyone anything- but their call was so quiet, that I doubted that even the first row of people heard them properly.
Yet by Allah! If the Imam knew what debts I had, he would never have led my funeral prayer!
Even as the Imam lifted his hands and said takbeer, more people arrived! But maybe only a handful of all the 1000s present, actually knew how to perform the funeral prayer. People were looking around everywhere, some were staring ahead as if trying to read something in the distance; they were distracted and were distracting others too.
I could hardly blame them, for I saw myself in them. I remembered how I used to do exactly the same thing.
After they had finished, the cloth was removed from my face for the last time. People came forward to see me, but gasped in surprise.. Some touched their ears, others lokked up and joined their hands together. I heard someone whisper, "Oh Allah forgive him."
Then they began looking for my sons to show their presence (to pay their respects) and then I was lifted onto their shoulders and carried towards the grave prepared for me.
(end of part two, insha allah I'll continue with part three..)
(Part Three)
People had brought garlands of roses; other had brought petals collected in bags. I was laid down in that gaping hole in the earth and they began covering me with soil. Some of my 'sincere friends' even began taking the soil from the graves next to mine and throwing it onto mine. And like this I was blocked out from them completely, beneath tons of mud and earth. After this I could hear their footsteps as they went back to their daily lives, leaving me in silence.
I thought that whatever punishment there was, I had already received it, and that now I would be left to rest. How wrong I was. I never imagined what lay ahead. Such torture, Oh Allah do not even use it on an enemy!
Outside my grave was the scent of roses, the inscense sticks- and even the wet soil had it's own aroma - but inside was a totally different atmosphere...
My grave greeted me in a strange way, almost as if accusing me. "Oh you unaware son of Adam! You were lost in the world, but there was not a single day in which I did not call to you, that I am a home of horror! I am a lonely home! I am a home of dust! I am a home of insects! Of all the people who walked on my surface- you were the most despised by me. But today I have been made a ruler over you; today you have been left at my mercy-and see how badly I will treat you!"
Barely had this finished when two black angels appeared. They were so overwhelming having their shoulders stretching from horizon to horizon, and eyes like lightning. (Do not ask what I was going through just then.) These angels sat me up, and in loud thunderous voices they interrogated me-"MAN RABBUK?" (Who is your Lord?)
The strange thing is that in my entire life I had probably never even heard one ayah or hadeeth of the prophet (SAW), let alone 'know' Arabic- but here I was now, understanding everything these angels were saying.
But I couldn't answer, - as if the devil had touched me with his evil possession and caused me to forget. I cried out in anguish- "Haa, Haa, la adrii" (Oh, Oh, I don't know.)
Again they bellowed at me "MAA DEENUK?" (What is your religion?) But I was unable to give the answer to this either. A third time their horrific voices bellowed in my ears "MAN HAADHA-RRAJULLULLADHII BU'ITHA FII KUM?" (Who is this man who was sent to you?)
It was my fate that I could reply to this no different than I had with the others.
A voice came from the sky "AN KADHABA! (He has indeed lied!) FA 'AFRISHUUHU MINANNAAR! (Prepare for him a bed of fire!) FA 'AFTAHUU LAHUU BAABAN ILANNAAR! (Open for him a door to the fire!)"
Barely had this been said than hot air and smoke filled my grave, and it tightened so much that my ribs crunched and went into eachother like fingers. Then what can I say?! A blind and deaf angel with a spiked-metal hammer in his hand was appointed as my torturer. He began striking me with this hammer with such force, that my screams could be heard everywhere, by everything, except men and jinn. It is no wonder that animals keep away from graveyards.
(Part Three)
People had brought garlands of roses; other had brought petals collected in bags. I was laid down in that gaping hole in the earth and they began covering me with soil. Some of my 'sincere friends' even began taking the soil from the graves next to mine and throwing it onto mine. And like this I was blocked out from them completely, beneath tons of mud and earth. After this I could hear their footsteps as they went back to their daily lives, leaving me in silence.
I thought that whatever punishment there was, I had already received it, and that now I would be left to rest. How wrong I was. I never imagined what lay ahead. Such torture, Oh Allah do not even use it on an enemy!
Outside my grave was the scent of roses, the inscense sticks- and even the wet soil had it's own aroma - but inside was a totally different atmosphere...
My grave greeted me in a strange way, almost as if accusing me. "Oh you unaware son of Adam! You were lost in the world, but there was not a single day in which I did not call to you, that I am a home of horror! I am a lonely home! I am a home of dust! I am a home of insects! Of all the people who walked on my surface- you were the most despised by me. But today I have been made a ruler over you; today you have been left at my mercy-and see how badly I will treat you!"
Barely had this finished when two black angels appeared. They were so overwhelming having their shoulders stretching from horizon to horizon, and eyes like lightning. (Do not ask what I was going through just then.) These angels sat me up, and in loud thunderous voices they interrogated me-"MAN RABBUK?" (Who is your Lord?)
The strange thing is that in my entire life I had probably never even heard one ayah or hadeeth of the prophet (SAW), let alone 'know' Arabic- but here I was now, understanding everything these angels were saying.
But I couldn't answer, - as if the devil had touched me with his evil possession and caused me to forget. I cried out in anguish- "Haa, Haa, la adrii" (Oh, Oh, I don't know.)
Again they bellowed at me "MAA DEENUK?" (What is your religion?) But I was unable to give the answer to this either. A third time their horrific voices bellowed in my ears "MAN HAADHA-RRAJULLULLADHII BU'ITHA FII KUM?" (Who is this man who was sent to you?)
It was my fate that I could reply to this no different than I had with the others.
A voice came from the sky "AN KADHABA! (He has indeed lied!) FA 'AFRISHUUHU MINANNAAR! (Prepare for him a bed of fire!) FA 'AFTAHUU LAHUU BAABAN ILANNAAR! (Open for him a door to the fire!)"
Barely had this been said than hot air and smoke filled my grave, and it tightened so much that my ribs crunched and went into eachother like fingers. Then what can I say?! A blind and deaf angel with a spiked-metal hammer in his hand was appointed as my torturer. He began striking me with this hammer with such force, that my screams could be heard everywhere, by everything, except men and jinn. It is no wonder that animals keep away from graveyards.
(here's part 4)
Brothers and sisters! Here I have borne so much and am still bearing it. But one thing that tortures me even more than these punishments is that Oh Allah, on the Day of Judgement, how will I face You with this dishonoured and rejected face of mine- what answer will I give to You?
In the grave no-one can see what's happening to me, what I'm going through- but on the Plain of Gathering? All the nations, past, present and yet to come;
all the prophets, and especially the best of them all, the last, The Seal of the Prophets, who was sent to both men and jinn- Prophet Muhammad (SAW)-will be there!- What will they all think of me? Oh, if only someone, some brother or sister could tell my children what state their poor father is in...
Oh my children- you whom I cared for and loved! There are vicious snakes in my grave, which continuously bite me! Oh my dear sons!- Just come and see my grave at least once, and if you can't be bothered to do even this much- then give some sadaqa, out of all the wealth I left behind with you.
And even if not this, then at least this orphan who was in my care-Abdur Rahman, whom you know about- please, just do something about him
My sons!- You will remember when you announced at the burial ground, but Abdur Rahman didn't think it suitable to ask you then. But look at his modesty, even till today he hasn't come knocking at your door. For God's sake!- In the least- give him what is his.
My cheque book was left in the safe, you took everything from me, even my Rado watch, my gold ring, locket, wallet- right down to my clothes!
Now, what do I have left here? Tomorrow when he asks me for his due- what will I give to him? I don't have any good deeds in the first place which I can give to satisfy him.
Now it looks as if his sins will be given to me...
My sons it pains me so much to think of the amount of money you spent celebrating my fortieth-day-anniversary, and you could not pay off a single one of my debts! I feel so much pain here and yet you so arrogantly blast your songs, disturbing the whole neighbourhood. If you can't do without them then at least lower the volume- and all this you've bought after my death- the new car, the motorcycle- what will people think? You are celebrating your father's death?!
Oh my sons, I know your time is precious, but one last thing, and I won't say anymore. Please tell your mother and your sisters, they don't have to do themselves up, wear tight clothes, opened hair and go out- why do you do all this? Why do you torture me? Don't you know that all these things that you do only increase my punishment?! I am your father! It was for you that I earned haram.
In the drawing room, you have such a big picture of me, decorated with necklaces- for whom to see? GO! I am cutting you off from my will! May Allah never give children like you to anyone!
...But anyway...I guess I had my part in this too... I gave you everything, but I never gave you a religious upbringing. If only I had put you on the path of Allah and His messenger (SAW), then today these same children would be Sadaqa Jariyah for me!
But alas, in the world if anyone ever told me to teach you the Quran, I would retort that I want to make my children Professionals not Maulvis!If only had given even one daughter a good upbringing, she might have been a way to paradise for me now. But like they say, "you reap what you sow".
Oh my brothers and sisters! Look at my wounded hands, and take my advice- take care of your end now while you can, or else like me you will regret it, you'll regret it so much! But there is still one flicker of hope left for me, that maybe somewhere...someone hears me...and sheds even one tear out of fear of Allah. how do I know, that Allah might cool my grave, that my punishment might stop, that my grave might even now be made into a beautiful garden, and that I might smell the perfumes of heaven, and be made into a heavenly bed, and that I might be clothed in heavenly attire, and it be said to me-Sleep!- As a bride sleeps...
Oh my brothers and sisters! Feel sorry for this unfortunate brother of yours, For God's sake! Don't be lazy- start preparing for your ends now- look at me- I have been dead many years now, but I can still feel the pain I went through at the time my soul parted from my body...
Now there is just one prayer left in my heart, that Oh Allah, protect every Muslim man and woman from having the same end as me. Oh Allah, make easy for them what they will receive in their graves and on the Day of Judgement. Ameen!
I hope all those who read this will benefit insha allah, and please pass it on to others..
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Hadia
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~~~D~~~ wrote: