Sticky Note #3: A child's idea of dua and an adult's understanding of tawakkul

It was one of the science exams in fifth grade when I made a ‘silly mistake’—the kind of mistake that could easily be avoided with a thorough re-check of my answers. “Double check kar liya karo na”, my mother would say.
The sort of mistake that became obvious just after you stepped out of the exam room and compared notes with friends. Confident in my overall performance, I knew this one lapse in judgment would cost me the perfect score. The nerd in me was disappointed. I can’t recall what I did upon returning home, but the memory of where exactly I prayed Isha ki namaz that night remains vivid. There was a dim glow of moonlight spilling through the window. The ceiling fan spun slowly, its rhythmic hum punctuating the stillness of the night. Everyone else had gone to their beds, the house quiet. I had delayed my prayer because I knew it would take me a long time that night. You see, I was determined I would get that silly mistake of mine fixed before the teacher checked the exam paper. After all, isn’t everything possible for Allah?

That night, I offered Isha multiple times. I wanted it to be perfect. So whenever I felt that my focus had wavered during the prayer, or that I hadn’t recited something properly, I would perform the raka’at all over. It was a child’s idea of pleasing Allah (SWT) before making a dua that absolutely needed to be accepted. It went on for so long that my mother (who probably sensed something was up with me) came to check on me. I don’t remember the result of that exam now. But I remember the absolute conviction of my younger self. I was convinced that if I asked Allah in the sincerest manner, He (SWT) would wave his magic wand and fix my little problem. This is also the earliest memory I have of my relationship with dua - the ultimate power of a believer.

Worship (ibadah) is of different kinds. The ordinary believers like myself worship Allah with the hope of getting our worldly desires fulfilled, to ask for His ultimate forgiveness on the Day of Judgement and to hopefully get a place in Paradise in the Hereafter. The more knowledgeable people worship Allah for the honor of His servanthood. In hopes that they may be able to stand out to the Almighty as devoted servants. And then there are those who worship Allah solely because they are in awe of His Majesty. They worship Him simply because they love Him.

Just like any other relationship, our relationship with Allah also needs work. Ideally, the most work. But it is crucial to understand the nature of this relationship. It is not equal, it’s far from it. It is also not transactional - not based on give and take. Our relationship with Allah is that of a Master and a worshipping servant. He is the 'Rabb', you and I are 'abd'. And it is a title worth honouring. After all, Prophet Muhammad (SAW) was called Abdullah (servant of Allah).

When we get the nature of this relationship right, we free ourselves from misplaced expectations and disappointments. We genuinely accept the fact that we are owed nothing. We stop feeling entitled. Entitled to His blessings. Entitled to getting immediate response to our prayers. Entitled to the knowledge of His master plan for us. We worship Him because we need Him. He (SWT) does not need our prayers. He likes it when we ask Him, He wants us to. But it is for us to remember that everything He chooses to give us in this world is a gift that we should be grateful for.

Verses 34 and 35 of Surah Ale Imran end with two names of Allah; As-Sami (The Hearing) and Al-Aleem (The Knowing).
There are several other places in the Quran where this pairing of names is used in context of making dua. Making dua is literally calling upon Allah. And when we call upon someone, we expect or hope they'll listen. So 'The Hearing', makes sense. It has an obvious, logical connection to dua.
But why is 'The Knowing' paired with it?

It adds a different dimension. When Allah says he's As-Samee and Al-Aleem in reference to dua, He's telling us that He's not only listening to our words but is also knowledgeable of our hearts. Of our deepest secrets and private actions that nobody else knows about. When we say one thing from our tongues while the state of hearts contradicts it, H

e knows it. He Knows our true character.

So As-Samee is our request to Allah and Al-Aleem is our confession.
When we call upon Allah with these names, we confess that we are asking Him, while being fully aware that He's knowledgeable of what's inside our hearts. We are asking despite knowing that we may not be deserving. He gives because of who He is, not because of who we are.

My younger self did not understand this. While I continued to use dua as a tool to craft my life, I did have questions - because duas don’t always get answered. Not immediately, at least. That’s where the idea of ‘tawakkul’ comes in. We are asked to ‘have faith in Allah’s plan’.

It was difficult for me to wrap my head around this for the longest time. How do we know if something is God's Will and not our poor judgement?
Or our lack of hard work?
Or our bad decisions?
And my conclusion so far is, I don't know.
And you won't either.
Not always.
Who said we'll always have answers? I found it very liberating to accept that it’s okay to not know.
Maybe it was, in fact, our lack of hard work. Maybe it was poor choices made on our part.
Despite all our istikharas and all our meticulous planning - things did not work out the way we had hoped.
But who guaranteed they would? Don't we often have to go through bad decisions to learn to make good ones?
Doesn't a child stumble and fall and get hurt before they learn to walk?

The idea is to have faith in His Plan. Nobody said His Plan would be all rainbows and butterflies. Our plans would sometimes have to fall flat on their face for His Plans for us to work. There will be disappointments and hardships and failures and heartbreaks. Saying Allah is the best of planners does not mean those plans won't include difficulties.
Life in this world is a trial, by design.
A test for the Hereafter.
A test that manifests differently for each one of us.
If every plan worked out exactly as we'd hoped, every attempt was successful, every prayer was answered ... what would be the test in life?

Tawakkul does not mean sitting around and waiting for life to unfold according to destiny. It means putting in the work and then surrendering to His Will, even when it goes against everything we had wished for. It means being content with our circumstances even after we've exhausted all human efforts to change them. And if we're unsure whether we've tried hard enough, we try again. We do so with the conviction that we will only receive what's destined for us. With the belief that He will provide us with the strength to handle the challenges He has chosen for us. Surrendering to His Will is not a sign of weakness; it is wisdom. It doesn't mean we have given up hope; rather, it reflects our recognition of our limitations.

The sukoon (peace) and happiness we crave often lies in wholehearted acceptance that we, the mere mortals, are not in absolute control of our lives. We can not do-it-all and know-it-all and have-it-all and that's not us failing.
That's us being human.
The challenging question is: When do we accept something as His Plan and stop making effort? Perhaps there are better answers, but for me, the solution lies in dua itself. Over the years, I have found solace in making dua that if a path is not destined for me, may Allah remove my longing for it and guide me towards better alternatives. It is a cycle where dua fuels tawakkul, and tawakkul deepens the need for dua—an infinite loop of faith and surrender.

This Ramadan, I’m living many of the duas that I made last Ramadan. I have crossed off bullet points on my dua list that seemed so far fetched a year ago, but Allah has already made them possible.
It has been one of those years - overwhelming and humbling.
As I edit my dua list for the last ten nights, I see the many unfulfilled duas on it that continue to feel too big to become real.
And I remind myself, it’s only a matter of كُن فَيَكُونُ (Be, and it is).

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‘This Season of Life’ is a passion project that has been brewing in my mind for a couple of years. I would love to hear if any of my writing sparks any thoughts, reflections, or actions for you. You can send me a message at @thespiceofadulting or email me at anumkamranahmad@gmail.com.