In a world that demands we pick a camp, a party, or a masalaq (sect), I have found a strange kind of liberation in being “none of the above.”
People often ask why I am apolitical or why I refuse to anchor myself to a specific religious school of thought. The answer is simple: Peace. When you join a camp, you become an accidental spokesperson. You find yourself defending policies you didn’t write, leaders you don’t control, and complex theological arguments you may not have the authority to settle.
I’ve decided to trade the burden of “being right” for the ease of just being.
Perspective
Recently, a small moment during prayer reminded me why this path works. I was invited to lead the prayer, but I declined. I knew that among the group was someone who, because of my perceived “wrong faith” or lack of sectarian alignment, would not feel comfortable praying behind me.
When a colleague asked why I stepped back: my answer: “In his world, his prayer is not accepted if I lead it. But in my world, I can pray behind him. By stepping back, everyone wins.”
It is remarkably easy to live when you stop trying to force others into your “world” and instead learn to navigate theirs with grace. I used to obsess over whether my own prayers were “worthy” enough. Now, I find peace in knowing I am simply giving the best I can with the heart I have.
Masjid at the Dargah
Last weekend, a minor car accident led me to a repair shop near a dargah (shrine). While waiting, I offered three prayers in the masjid alongside the dargah. This was an area I used to pass through as a child on my way to school, and standing there finally answered a childhood query: What is that dome for?
I would have chosen the other masjid somewhere behind the shop, but my father-in-law was there too, and he held the dargah in high respect.
The “Deobandi” version of my younger self would have had a thousand objections to the rituals happening around me, especially the prayers offered near a grave. But the version of me that exists today simply smiled. I offered my prayer, thanked God for the moment of reflection, and moved on. I didn’t need to “fix” them, and they didn’t need to change for me.
After the prayer, my father-in-law asked me to read the writings on the wall—one was by a Sufi and the other a hadith. He interpreted both with the meaning: never say anything against the Awliya.
The Tea Cup
This journey toward seeing the human before the label started with my father. I remember when we moved houses as a child. Our Hindu neighbors from the first locality came to see our new home and share a final cup of tea.
After they left, I asked my father: “How will we clean these cups? They are of the wrong belief.”
My father didn’t lecture me. He simply picked up a cup that still had a little tea left in it, drank from it, and said, “They are just human like us.”
Perhaps his travels gave him a perspective that my younger self hadn’t yet developed. It took me years to realize that the “purity” we often seek in our camps and sects is nothing compared to the simple purity of recognizing another person’s humanity.
Moving Forward
Choosing to be apolitical and non-sectarian isn’t about being passive; it’s about reclaiming your energy. It’s about not letting your peace be held hostage by a party platform or a sectarian debate.
I am still learning, still traveling, and still finding answers to those childhood queries. But for now, I am content to just smile, pray where I am, and leave the heavy lifting of “judging the world” to someone else.
Disclosure: If you’ve noticed that I am posting regularly, it’s because I have chosen to let AI complete and formulate the wording. It has been five years since I started this blog, and I don’t have the will to leave these stories to “future me,” so I let AI assist me in completing them. But the stories are entirely mine. I’m sure you won’t mind.