One day I will die.
Yes. One day this voice that disturbed your comfort will fall silent. One day this heart that carried pain quietly behind smiles will stop beating. One day my body will become still beneath white cloth while the earth prepares to swallow another soul returning to Allah Subhannah Wa Ta’alaa.
And strangely enough, many of you will come running to my funeral.
You will arrive dressed in black. Some with long faces. Some with carefully rehearsed sadness. Some pretending grief so beautifully that strangers will think you truly loved me.
But Allah knows.
Allah knows those who secretly prayed for my downfall while publicly calling me brother. Allah knows those who smiled with me while sharpening betrayal behind closed doors. Allah knows those who watched me drown emotionally, spiritually and financially yet acted innocent before people.
So yes.
Come to my funeral.
Come all of you.
The fake lovers.
The hidden enemies.
The whisperers.
The manipulators.
The backbiters.
The pretenders of compassion.
The destroyers of trust.
The wolves dressed in religious clothing.
Come.
Let the so called righteous Muslims come with their flowing garments and carefully shaped beards while carrying hearts poisoned with envy and malice. Let the so called Christians arrive holding Bibles while secretly celebrating the death of a man they never wanted to see rise. Let the serious and unserious come together. Let the wicked and the pious stand shoulder to shoulder pretending unity before my grave.
Come one. Come all.
Because human beings are strange creatures.
Some people hate you simply because your existence exposes the darkness inside them. Some pray publicly yet privately compete with your peace. Some claim to advise you while secretly waiting for your collapse. Some call themselves family while feeding strangers lies about your life. Some embrace you while poisoning your name behind your back.
And still they say: “We loved him.”
Loved me?
No.
Love does not rejoice at another person’s suffering. Love does not manipulate truth. Love does not spread poison through communities while pretending concern. Love does not smile in your face while praying for your humiliation in secret.
That is not love.
That is spiritual sickness.
Allah Subhannah Wa Ta’alaa already warned us about people who spread corruption while pretending goodness:
“Wa idhaa qeela lahum laa tufsiduu fil ardi qaaloo innamaa nahnu muslihoon. Alaa innahum humul mufsidoona walaakin laa yash’uroon.”
“And when it is said to them, ‘Do not spread corruption on the earth,’ they say, ‘We are only reformers.’ Truly they are the corrupters but they do not perceive it.”
Surah Al Baqarah 2:11 to 12.
Ya Allah.
How many destroyers now walk proudly among society pretending purity? How many human beings destroy homes, marriages, friendships and reputations then raise their hands in prayer as if they are innocent? How many carry the Qur’an on their lips while carrying poison in their hearts?
Woe unto them.
Woe unto the tongues that spread lies without fear of Allah. Woe unto those who celebrate another person’s pain. Woe unto those who weaponise trust and turn loyalty into suffering. Woe unto the wombs that carried hearts incapable of mercy. Woe unto those who disguise hatred as advice and jealousy as concern.
Because Allah sees everything.
You may fool society. You may manipulate narratives. You may gather supporters around your lies. But you cannot deceive the Lord of the heavens and the earth.
You cannot escape Him.
One day every hidden conversation will stand exposed. Every betrayal will speak. Every false accusation will testify. Every tear caused unjustly will return before Allah Subhannah Wa Ta’alaa demanding justice.
And on that day no performance will survive.
No reputation will save you.
No title will protect you.
No followers will rescue you.
Only truth.
Only deeds.
Only the condition of the heart.
That is why sometimes I laugh quietly when people pretend to mourn the very souls they helped destroy.
You broke him while he was alive then carried flowers after his death.
You ignored his cries while he was breathing then wrote emotional tributes after his burial.
You watched him bleed emotionally and spiritually yet suddenly discovered compassion after hearing the funeral prayer.
Hypocrisy has become an epidemic.
People now love dead people more than living ones because the dead can no longer expose their wickedness.
But hear me clearly.
If tomorrow becomes my obituary, let it also become your mirror.
Stand before my grave and ask yourselves honestly:
Did I protect him or poison him?
Did I defend his dignity or destroy it?
Did I pray for him or secretly compete with him?
Did I help heal his burdens or add weight to his suffering?
Because many people are not killed by weapons.
They are killed slowly by betrayal.
By humiliation.
By emotional abandonment.
By gossip.
By manipulation.
By fake loyalty.
By being surrounded by people who clap publicly while stabbing privately.
Some of you buried me long before my body ever reached the grave.
You buried trust.
You buried sincerity.
You buried peace.
You buried love.
Yet when death finally arrives you will gather around my janazah pretending shock as though your hands carried no soil from the burial of my spirit long before.
Ya Allah.
Protect us from people whose smiles hide hatred.
Protect us from friends who secretly envy us.
Protect us from relatives who celebrate our suffering.
Protect us from lovers who become enemies the moment life becomes difficult.
Allahumma inni a’oodhu bika min sharri kulli dhi sharrin anta aakhidhun binaasiyatih.
O Allah, I seek refuge in You from the evil of every possessor of evil whose forelock You hold.
Ya Hayyu Ya Qayyum.
Strengthen my heart against betrayal. Clean my soul from bitterness. Do not allow the cruelty of people to make me cruel in return. Grant me patience when surrounded by deception and grant me dignity when people attempt to humiliate me.
Hasbunallahu wa ni’mal wakeel.
Allah alone is sufficient for us and He is the best disposer of affairs.
Sometimes the pain is not even the betrayal itself.
It is discovering that the people you defended the most were the very ones secretly tearing you apart. It is realising that your loyalty meant nothing to those who only valued you when you were useful. It is understanding that some human beings only remain close enough to study your weaknesses.
And when they find them, they strike.
Still, despite everything, I refuse to become like them.
I refuse to worship hatred.
I refuse to celebrate destruction.
I refuse to lose my humanity simply because others lost theirs.
Because my return is not to people.
My return is to Allah.
And when my obituary is finally written, I pray it says this:
He was wounded but he remained standing.
He was betrayed but he still believed in Allah.
He was hated but he refused to hate back.
He cried privately but carried dignity publicly.
He suffered deeply but never stopped fighting to protect his soul.
And when the funeral finally comes, let the mountains hear it.
Let the skies witness it.
Let every pretender attend.
Let every hidden enemy stand there silently.
Let every fake sympathiser carry their rehearsed sorrow.
Because Allah Subhannah Wa Ta’alaa already knows who truly loved me and who merely waited patiently for my collapse.
Innaa lillaahi wa innaa ilayhi raaji’oon.
Surely we belong to Allah and surely to Him we shall return.
