Name tag: Z(ZACK)

Badge number: 247184

Department: ALLIED HEALTH SCIENCE

Section: 10

Division: 03

Adress: KAJANG, SELANGOR

Contact: nurinzu177@gmail.com

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In Islam, we've been taught about adab. Now, is it the same as first impression? To be honest, I think it's more than that. Adab refers to prescribed Islamic etiquette such as refinement, good manners, morals, decorum, decency, humaneness. It also reflects on one's behavior. One can say anything but one can't completely cover one's actions.

"I'm a good son" he said, however he doesn't respect his parents. "I'm a good student" she said, however she talks behind her lecturer's back.

In whatever we do at anytime anywhere, adab is what really matters.

Seeking knowledge is a noble endeavor that requires certain etiquettes to foster a productive learning environment.

Who?

• Lecturers: As guides and mentors, they play a crucial role in imparting knowledge.

• Students: As seekers of knowledge, they are responsible for their own learning journey.

• Oneself: Personal discipline and self-awareness are vital for effective learning.

How?

• Listen Carefully: Active listening helps absorb information and understand different perspectives.

• Respect Others: A respectful attitude towards lecturers and peers enhances collaboration and learning.

• Be On Time: Punctuality shows commitment and respect for the time of others, creating a positive learning atmosphere.

Why?

• Build Rapport with Insaniah: Establishing good relationships fosters a supportive learning community.

• Boost Self-Confidence: Engaging respectfully and actively can enhance one’s confidence in sharing ideas.

• Improve Mannerism: Practicing these etiquettes cultivates good habits and professional conduct in academic and social settings.

• Islam

  1. Shahada: Declaration of faith (testifying that there is no god but Allah and Muhammad is His messenger).

  2. Salah: Establishing the five daily prayers.

  3. Zakat: Giving alms to the needy.

  4. Sawm: Fasting during the month of Ramadan.

  5. Hajj: Pilgrimage to Mecca, required once in a lifetime for those who are able.

• Iman

  1. Belief in Allah (Tawhid)

  2. Belief in angels (Malaikat)

  3. Belief in the holy books (Quran)

  4. Belief in the prophets (Nabi)

  5. Belief in the Day of Judgment (Yawm al-Qiyamah)

  6. Belief in divine predestination (Qada' & Qadar)

• Ihsan

  You worship God as if you see Him, but if you do not see Him, then indeed He sees you

A pillar is a large, typically cylindrical or square, solid structure that stands upright as support in a home or building, either structurally or aesthetically

A weak pillar in a house can lead to structural instability, cracks, and even collapse.

A house stands strong on its pillars, just as a Muslim's faith is grounded in the Pillars of Iman; each pillar supports the overall structure of belief, ensuring stability, resilience, and guidance throughout life's challenges.

1. Belief in Allah (God): Muslims believe in one God (Tawhid) who is the sole creator and ruler of the universe. Allah is unique and perfect, shaping their understanding of life and morality.

2. Belief in Angels (Malaikat): Angels, created from light, serve Allah and carry out His commands. They are obedient servants.

3. Belief in the Holy Books (Al-Quran): The Quran is a guide for humanity, teaching justice, compassion, and morality. It offers lessons from prophets and helps Muslims navigate life’s challenges while connecting with Allah.

4. Belief in Prophets (Rasul): Allah has sent prophets throughout history to guide people. They are models of moral conduct and divine messengers.

5. Belief in the Day of Judgment: Muslims believe there will be a Day of Judgment when everyone will be resurrected and held accountable for their actions. Righteous people will be rewarded with Heaven (Jannah), while wrongdoers will face punishment in Hell (Jahannam).

6. Belief in Divine Decree (Qadar): Everything happens according to Allah's will. Muslims believe in both destiny and free will, meaning they are responsible for their choices. This belief reassures them that God controls all affairs.

At home, you listen to your parent obediently.

With friends, you say "sorry" if you did something wrong.

Why exactly?

It's because you're afraid.

You afraid you'll be punished by your teachers.

You afraid you'll be scolded by your parent.

You afraid they'll no longer care for you.

If you really afraid of Allah,

you will do good deeds,

you will leave His prohibition,

you will ask for His forgiveness.

1. Call to Worship One God: Noah’s mission was to urge his people to worship Allah alone, abandoning idolatry.

2. Rejection of Polytheism: Despite his efforts, his people clung to their idols, highlighting the dangers of denying Tawhid.

3. Divine Instruction: Following Allah’s command, Noah built the Ark as salvation for true believers, showing complete trust in God.

4. Test of Faith: Noah faced ridicule and disbelief, exemplifying the strength required to uphold faith in adversity.

5. Sign of Allah’s Mercy: The Ark symbolizes Allah’s mercy for those who accepted Noah’s message, emphasizing that salvation comes through Tawhid.

6. Consequences of Disbelief: The flood served as a reminder of divine justice, punishing those who rejected Allah’s sovereignty.

7. Unity in Diversity: The Ark united believers under Allah’s Oneness, showcasing strength amidst chaos.

8. Symbol of Hope: The Ark represents hope for those who trust in Allah, proving that faith can lead to salvation, even in dark times.

1. Moral Accountability: Knowing there is a Day of Judgment encourages Muslims to act ethically, as their actions have lasting consequences.

2. Hope and Comfort: The belief in a rewarding afterlife offers hope during tough times, reminding believers that their struggles can lead to lasting peace and happiness.

3. Deterrent from Sin: The fear of punishment in the Hereafter helps discourage sinful behavior, motivating people to lead good lives.

4. Focus on the Afterlife: It encourages a focus on spiritual growth, promoting practices like prayer, charity, and good deeds to improve one's standing in the Hereafter.

1. Joseph's Early Life: Joseph was the favored son of Jacob (Yaqub). He was gifted with beauty and the ability to interpret dreams. His brothers, jealous of him, plotted against him and sold him into slavery.

2. In Egypt: Joseph ended up in Egypt, where he was purchased by a wealthy man, Potiphar (Al-Aziz). Potiphar recognized Joseph's talents and put him in charge of his household.

3. Zulaikha's Infatuation: Potiphar's wife, Zulaikha, was captivated by Joseph’s beauty. She tried to seduce him, but Joseph resisted her advances, choosing to remain faithful and uphold his integrity.

4. The Temptation: One day, when Potiphar was away, Zulaikha locked the doors and made her move. Joseph fled, but in the process, his shirt was torn. When Potiphar returned, Zulaikha falsely accused Joseph of trying to assault her.

5. Imprisonment: Joseph was unjustly imprisoned due to Zulaikha's lies. While in prison, he continued to interpret dreams, gaining a reputation for his abilities.

6. The King's Dream: Eventually, the king had a troubling dream that needed interpretation. Joseph was called upon and accurately explained the dream, predicting seven years of plenty followed by seven years of famine.

7. Joseph's Rise: Impressed by his wisdom, the king appointed Joseph as a high official to manage Egypt's resources during the upcoming famine. Joseph worked diligently and effectively.

8. Reunion with Zulaikha: During the famine, Zulaikha and her family came to Egypt seeking food. When she recognized Joseph, her feelings of love and remorse emerged. Joseph forgave her, understanding the trials they both faced.

9. A New Beginning: Joseph and Zulaikha’s story ends with reconciliation. Joseph married Zulaikha, and they found happiness together, symbolizing forgiveness and the power of love to overcome adversity.

There’s something deeply compelling about the silent rituals we perform daily—acts of ʿibādah that, on the surface, may appear routine, but beneath them lies a profound system of wisdom (ḥikmah), waiting to be uncovered. Like clues scattered at the scene of a deeper reality, each prayer, each intention, each whispered duʿā’, invites investigation—not of the external, but of the internal self.

The first evidence in this spiritual inquiry: niyyah. More than a verbal declaration, it is the internal compass. I’ve come to realize that without setting the right niyyah, even the most polished of acts can feel hollow. It is the why behind the what. A sincere intention transforms simple movement into worship, reminding me that Allah weighs not just the deed, but the heart behind it.

Then comes ʿamal—the outward practice. Here is where theory becomes reality. But the question arises: are these practices performed with presence, or merely performed? I find myself challenged to observe not only the precision of my actions, but the presence of my mind and soul in them. It’s a test: can I align external obedience with internal awareness?

Finally, there’s iḥsān. This, I’ve come to understand, is the secret layer. The stage where ʿibādah is no longer just an act of worship, but a mirror to one’s character. It is the embodiment of beauty and excellence—living as though I see Allah, or knowing He sees me. When iḥsān is internalized, patience, humility, sincerity—they stop being ideals and start becoming habits.

This path of ʿibādah, when walked with awareness, reveals more than just religious obligation—it unveils values, ethics, and virtues that refine the self. In this investigation of the soul, the greatest discovery isn’t external reward—it is the transformation of the self through acts that connect the body, heart, and soul to the Divine.

Then came a divine command: build an Ark. No sea in sight, no storm on the horizon—only trust in Allah. Nuh obeyed without question, ridiculed but resolute. That Ark wasn’t just wood and nails; it was faith in motion.

When the flood arrived, it didn’t just drown bodies—it drowned arrogance. Those saved weren’t just passengers—they were believers in the Oneness of Allah. The Ark became a symbol of mercy, unity, and hope.

In every step, Nuh showed what it means to uphold Tawḥīd in the face of rejection. His story is a timeless reminder: salvation begins with sincere faith in the One true God.

Knowing there’s a Day of Judgment keeps me accountable. It urges me to choose honesty over ease, kindness over pride. When life feels unfair, the Hereafter promises justice—and that brings comfort. Struggles become tests, not punishments. Losses become temporary, not permanent.

This belief also acts as a guardrail. The fear of consequence keeps my ego in check, while the hope of reward keeps my heart steady. It shifts my focus from chasing the temporary to building for the eternal.

In short, the Hereafter is more than an event to believe in—it's a truth that shapes how I live, love, and strive every day.

From his early days as the beloved son of Yaqub (Jacob), Yusuf was marked by beauty and divine wisdom. Betrayed by his brothers, sold into slavery, and taken to Egypt—his trials began early. But even in hardship, Yusuf’s integrity stood firm.

In the house of Al-Aziz, he gained trust—until Zulaikha, captivated by his beauty, tried to seduce him. He resisted, choosing virtue over desire. Falsely accused, Yusuf was imprisoned, yet his faith and ability to interpret dreams turned his prison into a place of purpose.

When the king needed guidance, Yusuf delivered. His insight saved a nation from famine. Elevated to power, he didn’t let bitterness consume him.

Years later, Zulaikha returned—not in pride, but in remorse. Yusuf forgave. What began in trial ended in mercy, love, and healing.

Their story reminds me: true strength lies in patience, integrity brings honor, and forgiveness has the power to rewrite even the most painful chapters.

Name tag: Z(ZACK)

Badge number: 247184

Department: ALLIED HEALTH SCIENCE

Section: 45

Division: 03

Adress: KAJANG, SELANGOR

Contact: nurinzu177@gmail.com

Current status: HALAL RELATIONSHIP ONLY

Iconic line: SUCCESS IS THE SWEETEST PAYBACK

1. Ṣalāh – Sūrah Al-ʿAnkabūt (29:45)

Indeed, prayer restrains from indecency and wrongdoing…

2. Ṣawm – Sūrah Al-Baqarah (2:183)

Fasting is prescribed... that you may attain taqwā.

3. Zakāh – Sūrah Al-Tawbah (9:103)

Take from their wealth a charity by which you purify them and cause them increase...

4. Ḥajj – Sūrah Al-Baqarah (2:197)

...There is [to be] no sexual relations, nor disobedience, nor arguing during Hajj...

Fasting trains the heart in self-restraint. The hunger is not just physical—it is a hunger to detach from desires and sharpen spiritual awareness. Taqwā becomes the fruit of this struggle.

Zakāh purifies—not just wealth, but hearts. Giving removes greed and plants generosity. It reconnects the giver with humility and social responsibility.

Ḥajj strips the ego bare. In unity, hardship, and simplicity, it reveals the essence of submission. It teaches patience, tolerance, and universal brotherhood.

1. Ṭahārah (Purification)

Every journey starts with cleansing. Wuḍūʼ washes not just the limbs, but the distractions of the world. When water is unavailable, tayammum stands as a reminder: sincerity matters more than means.

2. Conditions for Valid Ṣalāh (Ṣaḥ)
   Before the first takbir, five conditions must align:

   • Purity (of body, clothes, place)

   • Proper time

   • Covering ʿawrah

   • Facing the Qiblah

   • Correct intention (niyyah)

3. Pillars of Ṣalāh

Some acts are non-negotiable—standing, recitation of al-Fātiḥah, bowing, prostration, calmness, and final tashahhud.

4. Flexibility in Application

Ṣalāh adapts, never abandons.

• On journeys, we shorten (qaṣr) and combine (jamaʿ) prayers.

• In illness, we pray seated or even with the eyes.

• Nawāfil fill the gaps, drawing us closer in love, not obligation.

The evidence is clear: purification isn’t just hygiene, it’s a cleansing of distraction. The conditions for acceptance act like checkpoints, ensuring the soul is ready to enter. The pillars form the structure, the unshakable facts that hold the prayer intact. And the adaptability of Ṣalāh in different situations reveals mercy’s hand—no barrier too great to break this connection.

From where I stand, the true secret to khushūʿ lies in the preparation itself. It’s in those moments before the first takbir, when intention sharpens focus and the heart aligns with the command. Without that, presence remains elusive—like a suspect slipping through the cracks. But with preparation, the door to sincere worship swings wide open, and the mystery of connection becomes clear.

1. Al-Ṭāʿah (Submission/Loyalty)

At its core, ṣalāh is an act of surrender—absolute obedience to the Divine command. This submission isn’t passive; it’s a loyal commitment that strengthens the bond between servant and Creator.

2. Al-Jihād (Struggle in the Path of Allah)

The internal battle to maintain khushūʿ is a form of jihad—the struggle against distractions, ego, and negligence. Each prayer becomes a battleground where the soul fights to stay connected.

3. Muḥāsabah (Reflection)

In the stillness of prayer, the mind turns inward. This self-accounting sharpens awareness of one’s actions and intentions, guiding continuous self-improvement.

4. ʿIffah (Modesty/Self-Restraint)

Prayer cultivates ʿiffah, a shield against sinful impulses. The discipline of khushūʿ trains the heart to guard itself from what displeases Allah, nurturing purity of thought and deed.

5. Tawaḍḍuʿ (Humility/Humbleness)

Salāh with khushūʿ humbles the soul. It reminds the worshipper of their position before the Almighty—not as a master, but as a devoted servant, grounding arrogance and nurturing humility.

First, there’s Al-Ṭāʿah—submission. It’s obvious on paper, but in practice, it’s a daily choice to lay down the ego and say, “I am yours.” That loyalty, that silent agreement, feels like the foundation of everything.

Then comes Al-Jihād—the struggle. I see it every time distractions creep in, when the mind wants to wander or resist. Keeping khushūʿ alive is no easy task; it’s a quiet war fought within. Each prayer is a battle, and every moment of focus, a small victory.

Muḥāsabah, or reflection, is like a flashlight in the dark. When I’m truly present, I catch glimpses of my flaws and strengths. The prayer becomes a mirror, forcing me to reckon with who I am—and who I want to be.

I notice ʿIffah, the self-restraint, forming almost like armor. Prayer trains the heart to resist what pulls it away from what’s right, shielding me from impulsive missteps and softening the pull of temptation.

Lastly, Tawaḍḍuʿ, humility, settles in like a quiet realization. Standing there, hands folded, I feel the vast gap between my human frailty and Allah’s greatness. It humbles me more than any words ever could.

Putting it all together, khushūʿ in Ṣalāh reveals itself not just in focus or silence, but in this web of virtues quietly reshaping the self. And that, to me, is the real case to solve—the journey from merely performing prayer, to truly becoming its witness and beneficiary.

When I look closer at fasting, it’s clear that Ṣawm is more than just abstaining from food and drink. It’s a training ground where virtues quietly take shape, like clues hidden beneath the surface of discipline.

Ṣabr—patience—emerges first. It’s not just about enduring hunger, but learning to hold fast against all kinds of discomfort, frustration, and temptation. Every moment of restraint is a small but crucial victory, a testament to willpower tested and strengthened.

Next, there’s Takrīm, respect. Fasting humbles you, teaching deference—not just to Allah’s command, but to others. It’s a silent nod to the shared struggle, an unspoken respect for the boundaries set by faith and for those around you.

And then I find Raḥmah, kindness. When hunger sharpens your senses, your heart softens towards others who suffer. The fast turns compassion into a lived experience, transforming empathy from idea into action.

Putting these pieces together, fasting reveals itself as a quiet architect of character, shaping patience, respect, and friendliness in ways that feed the soul beyond mere physical hunger.

I’ve come to realise that acts like Zakāh and Ṣadaqah carry more than material weight. On the surface, it looks like money changing hands—but dig a little deeper, and something richer begins to emerge.

The first thing I trace is Tawakkul—reliance on Allah. Every time someone parts with their wealth for the sake of others, there’s a silent declaration: “My provision doesn’t end with what I hold.” It’s trust, pure and simple. A surrender of control, a belief that giving won’t decrease what truly matters.

Then, in the exchange itself, I find Ukhuwwah—brotherhood. Not the kind of brotherhood printed in slogans, but the real, tangible bond that forms when one person eases another’s burden. Giving bridges the gap between rich and poor, dissolving walls and building something more human—connection.

So when I look at Zakāh and Ṣadaqah now, I don’t just see charity. I see trust in the unseen. I see the stitching of a community. I see a believer quietly strengthening their heart while lifting someone else’s. And that, to me, is where the real virtue lies.

If there’s one place where every layer is stripped back, it’s in Ḥajj and ʿUmrah. The garments are simple, the comforts are few, and the crowds? Endless. Yet amid that controlled chaos, something sacred unfolds.

First, Al-Taḍḥiyyah—sacrifice. It’s everywhere. In the sleep you give up, the miles you walk, the comfort you surrender. Even in the ego you’re forced to silence. Every act of Ḥajj whispers: “Let go.” And you do.

Then, Taqwā begins to surface. Not just fear—but alertness. A sharpened awareness that Allah is near in every step, every prayer, every breath. It changes the way you look at the world, and more importantly, the way you look at yourself.

When I trace the lines of this journey, I don’t just see rituals. I see a transformation: of heart, of will, of sight. And that’s the real destination.

From this usrah, I gained not only knowledge, but also meaningful friendships and space for personal reflection. The lessons helped me understand the deeper values within our acts of worship, and the way we were encouraged to express ourselves—through writing and reflections—made the experience even more impactful. It wasn’t just about learning, but also about connecting with others and with myself.