DEAR ROSALIND Quick note from the author: While studying and participating in the religion of Islam inside our Muslim community, I encountered resistance, anger, and outright hostility to my questions and concerns about the religion and its tenets. I experienced the pain of isolation and neglect of the religion's inconsistencies within a whole community of followers. Per my surroundings and family dynamic, I had no power to discuss or raise awareness of its contradictions. Memories of my turmoil tend to interfere with my ability to clearly discuss or write about the issues I faced. In an effort to reduce the distraction of unpleasant memories, I wrote the book as long letter to a friend, Rosalind, keeping her open-minded non-judgmental personality before me throughout. Dear Rosalind, I want to thank you for the cards and letters you have sent since we reunited at Satsang after many years of not seeing one another. Our family rarely socialized when I was young, so I was surprised that you remembered me as well as you did. Having moved homes almost every year of my childhood, I struggled to maintain any friendships. Satsang was usually the only gathering my family attended together. Otherwise, my time was spent at school, my father was at work, and my mother stayed home, except for grocery shopping and the Satsangs. Our life more or less stabilized during my middle and high school years as my parents stayed in one home. That was about the time I met you and your family. I saw you walk to the Satsang surrounded by all your tall sons and, finally, a daughter. Every time I saw you, I wondered how you had managed to have such a large family, as you were always so petite. Another thing I remember, with gratitude, is your cheerful disposition. My memory of your positive attitude is what makes it easy to write to you about a subject so painful to me that I generally avoid thinking about it: a religion so self-contradictory that it either tears families apart or glues them painfully to their secrets. The more I studied and involved myself in the culture, the more confusing and contradictory the topic of Islam seemed to become. In a letter from 2004, you asked me, "Can you recommend a booklet that explains some of the more forceful statements in the Quran?" Also enclosed, were a couple of full-page ads from the San Jose Mercury News saying, "No to Terrorism." We have talked briefly before about how the Islam out there now does not reflect what Prophet Muhammed taught. This is not the first time you've asked by letter or phone to obtain more resources to demystify the strong voice of the Quran. If you want to know more about the generally taught Islam, I suggest looking at your local masjids (mosques), and organizations like the one that put out the San Jose Mercury News ad. I have no interest in propagating their teachings or interpretations. I do not believe the interpretations-never have, never will. However, if instead of, or in addition to their version of Islam, you wish to hear my understanding of the Quran and the Prophet's teachings, I am happy to oblige. I can offer the information in the same way the introductory books on Islam do; beginning with the testimony of faith, then the four remaining pillars: ritual prayer, charity, fasting, and pilgrimage to Mecca. Prophet Muhammed's actual message is very interesting and attractive to me. Not many people in the Muslim community, where I happen to be now, want to hear it. The prophets and saints are very gentle people. They teach, specifically, how and why to be gentle and to support gentleness. Why mankind is determined to take this message and turn it into something harsh and forbidding is quite beyond me, but, out of that tendency, is born the brutality and terrorism we are faced with today. By the time of my birth my parents had become disillusioned with the Christian faith. The only acceptable source of religious knowledge was what got passed through and approved by the church. My parents were no longer interested in the most widely accepted version of Christianity. They needed spiritual guidance that was not so heavily censored. My father found books about Master Kirpal Singh in the San Francisco public library and was impressed with the inclusive, welcoming, and gentle tone of his teachings--very different from the message most religious leaders propagate; past and present. Although Kirpal Singh was born and raised in India in the Sikh religion, he never spoke of conversion. He advised followers to remain in the faith they were familiar with and try to understand the teachings of their spiritual guides more deeply. The suggested way to achieve this greater understanding was by increasing receptivity through daily meditation, self-introspection with the use of a diary, and study of the lives and teachings of people with wisdom (those who made the best use of knowledge, experience, understanding, etc.). Weekly Satsangs were an opportunity for Kirpal Singh's followers to meet for meditation and study from his teachings. The whole point of the Satsangs was to come to know ourselves so that we could know God. All this was difficult as a child but, as an adult in a jungle of confusing ideas, it was a great help. Kirpal Singh set the groundwork for interfaith study. He began by learning the original languages the scriptures were written in and read them in their original form. He often quoted from Rumi, a famous Muslim author and saint. It was mainly because both Mazhar and I were familiar with Rumi's work that we felt we had something in common when it came to religion. I grew up hearing many different stories about the various religions and saints, especially Guru Nanak. He taught the vital importance of finding a living spiritual guide that inspired the lives of Sikh gurus who came after him. In college, I took religious studies and literature courses and learned even more about their lives and advice. However, none of this prepared me for the story of Guru Nanak and the Sikh religion I heard after my marriage to Mazhar. The Muslims have it that Guru Nanak was a Hindu who became interested in Islam, studied it, and then went on Hajj (pilgrimage). There, he found Islam as "the true way," Allah the "One True God," and he became Muslim. The Sikhs are members of his tribe (Punjabis) who did not want to completely leave Hinduism and embrace Islam so are in a kind of limbo. Theoretically, they will not recover from their confusion until they realize "the truth" and convert to Islam as Guru Nanak did. (This was all relayed to me in a very matter-of-fact way and there was simply no disputing it.) Getting back to your letter, you had enclosed a San Jose Mercury News article titled, "Not in the name of Islam" with which I completely disagree, and my feelings about this are based on long, hard experience; not theory. The author of this article states, "We repudiate and disassociate ourselves from any Muslim group or individual who commits such brutal and un-Islamic acts. We refuse to allow our Faith to be held hostage by the criminal actions of a tiny minority acting outside the teachings of the Quran and the Prophet Muhammed, Peace be Upon Him." The part of that quote I cannot swallow after living more than thirty years in the Muslim community is the phrase "tiny minority." Before the World Trade Center, the Embassy bombings, or any talk of terrorism in the general media I was myself already referring to Muslims as terrorists without having heard this word applied to them from any other source. My use of the word "terrorists" was based solely upon my experiences with Muslims during all the years of trying to keep my marriage together and raise children in this community. My feelings on this matter became strongest when we had our children enrolled in an orthodox Islamic school. I was forced to deal with "real practicing Muslims" on a daily basis for two years, and I could only think of them as terrorists during most of those two years. Every letter sent home from the school was an ultimatum. Every time I walked through the hallways I was greeted with hostile or dirty looks even though I took pains to dress in ways Muslims consider "proper." Threats were constantly made to motivate learning, along with occasional bribes. Whenever my children or I entered the school, fear and its constant companion, anger, were present and unavoidable. My husband and I met with the teachers and the board, but nothing helped. Things got progressively worse until I finally said that I simply would not go to the school anymore at all. You may be wondering how I married into a situation that seems so repulsive to me... I didn't. When Mazhar and I met, he was not at all involved in the religion. We knew each other for two years before marriage. During that time, he never talked about religion at all. The closest we came to discussing it was when we would talk about Maulana Rumi's poetry and discourses. My husband was from Pakistan and it is common practice there to beat the children into reading and memorizing the Quran, or at least part of it, at a very young age. Mazhar would have none of that. He told me he had managed to escape this abuse, and being the oldest son, got away with it most times. As a result, his attitude to the religion was non-committal. During the two years before our marriage, the most he did was attend Eid prayers once a...
