Religion! Something I never had any interest connecting with.
It has always been a subject I’ve avoided all my life.
I had a bad first experience with religion and everything else just fell right into motion.
I lived my life without having any reservations or ever thinking twice about what I got myself into. I never really had a moral compass. I was content with all the freedom I had to do all I wanted to without thinking about the consequences or the effect it would have on me.
You see, two different people who had completely opposite views on religion brought me up.
My mother was always the religious one. Always trying to instill some knowledge of religion in me.
My father on the other hand was an atheist. He didn’t believe in a creator and was adamant in his belief in the evolutionary theory. Though he never tried instilling any kind of religious belief or his belief in theories in me while I was growing up, I knew he didn’t want me to fall into any religious mambo jumbo.
I always knew my parents resented each other for their differing beliefs about religion and I was definitely affected by this.
My interest in learning about Islam was lost or shall I say tainted when I attended a religious school (sekolah agama).
It was the worst experience I ever had as a seven-year-old kid.
Most of the kids who went to the school already had some knowledge of how to read in Arabic. I, however was not as fortunate. I was never sent to learn how to read the Quran (mengaji). And that was one of the reasons why it got so unbearable for me.
Not only did I not know how to read the Quran, I was also the only Pakistani-Punjabi there. I was taller than everyone my age and I stood out because I looked different from the other Malay kids who went there.
One evening the ustazah (teacher) decided to get the students to read a few verses from Quran out loud. And to my horror I was the first to be called out. Imagine how I felt. I didn’t know how to read in Arabic. I knew I was going to make a fool out of myself and everyone was going to laugh at me.
Well I was right. As soon as I was called out to read, I stood up while the class quiet down and completely froze. I had no idea what I was looking at on the board. I must have stood there for almost a minute until the ustazah decided to say something to me.
“How old are you?” she asked.
“Seven years old,” I replied nervously.
“Why don’t you know how to read these simple versus?” she mocked.
“Because I never went for mengaji,” I answered, completely terrified.
“Hhhmmmmm. Just sit down,” she mumbled.
That was all I ever heard her say to me and the kids teased me for an entire week in the class and bus.
Thank god my father noticed that I was always sad. He asked me. I told him. And that was the last I ever saw the school or the kids who went there.
My father was outraged and very disappointed with the way the ustazah handled the situation. She didn’t even try to teach me or encourage me to learn.
Years after that my mother decided it was time for me to learn how to finally read the Quran. So I was sent to mengaji class. I remember being extremely nervous my first time. But I was calmed by the niceness of the ustazah. She was strict nonetheless but very encouraging. I was finally learning.
Unfortunately it didn’t last long as I was then sent to live with my grandparents. I did it half way again!
That was the last time I ever attempted to learn. I started caring less and less as I grew and realized that you don’t need to learn how to read the Quran to go to college or deal with people. In the real world no one really cares if you know how to read the Quran or even pray. You’re judged based on how you look, what you wear, what you drive, what your job is and whom you hang out with.
