As the final echoes of the Isha prayer faded into the night, a hush settled over the masjid. The dim glow of lanterns cast soft shadows on the gathered faces—British officers, Indian scholars, merchants, labourers, Hindus, Muslims, and those of different lands and beliefs, all sitting together, waiting.
Isarish stepped forward. His presence alone commanded attention—not through force, but through a quiet, unshaken certainty that made even the most skeptical lean in to listen.
He began as he always did, with the Bismillah, his voice steady yet filled with a warmth that made the words feel personal.
And then, he spoke.
"The Meaning of True Love in Islam."
A few murmurs rose among the crowd. Love? In a time when death whispered through the streets? When fear loomed in every shadow?
But Isarish continued undeterred, his gaze scanning the room, meeting the eyes of those who sought answers beyond what their minds could comprehend.
"True love," he said, "is not what the world glorifies. It is not the fleeting desires of men and women, nor the attachments that bind us to heartbreak. It is not found in wealth, nor in beauty, nor in status. True love—الحُبّ الحَقِيقِيّ—is love that is eternal, unshaken, and pure."
He let the words sink in before he recited:
وَالَّذِينَ آمَنُوا أَشَدُّ حُبًّا لِّلَّهِ
"And those who believe are stronger in love for Allah." (Surah Al-Baqarah 2:165)
Silence stretched between them, the weight of the verse settling over the listeners like a quiet realization.
"What does this mean?" Isarish asked. "It means that the only love that is free from weakness, from selfishness, from suffering—is the love for Allah. Everything else…" he shook his head, "is temporary."
Somewhere in the back, a British officer shifted uncomfortably.
"Human love," Isarish continued, "fluctuates. It changes with emotions, with circumstances. One day, a man swears eternal love for his beloved, and the next, he grows distant. Why? Because his love was not built on something permanent. It was built on himself—on his desires, his expectations. And humans are flawed."
A few heads nodded. Some stared at him as if they were hearing these words for the first time.
"But true love," he emphasized, "is built on patience—صَبر, on mercy—رَحْمَة, and on responsibility—مَسْؤُوليَّة."
He then narrated:
"The Prophet ﷺsaid: 'A believing man should not hate a believing woman. If he dislikes one of her characteristics, he will be pleased with another.'" (Sahih Muslim 1469)
A soft murmur rippled through the crowd. Some exchanged glances, understanding dawning upon them.
"If love alone was enough, no marriage would fail. No family would break apart. Love requires more—it requires sacrifice, understanding, and most of all, sincerity."
He paused.
"But what does the world tell you?" His voice was quiet, almost challenging. "It tells you to chase love. To make it your purpose. To believe that without it, you are incomplete."
A bitter chuckle escaped his lips.
"And what happens when you find it? Fear takes its place. Fear of losing it. Fear of change. And then?" He looked around. "You suffer."
His words carried a weight beyond mere speech. He had seen it—seen people fall apart, seen their reflections in broken mirrors, seen love turns into madness.
He quoted:
"Whoever possesses three qualities will taste the sweetness of faith: (1) Allah and His Messenger become more beloved to him than anything else, (2) he loves someone only for the sake of Allah, and (3) he hates to return to disbelief as he would hate to be thrown into the Fire." (Sahih al-Bukhari 16, Muslim 43)
His voice softened.
"This… this is true love. Love that is not tied to fear. Love that does not enslave the heart. Love that does not destroy the soul."
A British officer in the front row was staring now, his rigid posture slightly relaxed. Even the Hindus present, though their beliefs were different, were nodding along, drawn in by the undeniable wisdom in his words.
Isarish then spoke of the illusion of worldly love, of how people tie love to temporary emotions and suffer when it fades.
And then—
He recited:
"وَمَا ٱلْحَيَوٰةُ ٱلدُّنْيَآ إِلَّا لَهْوٌ وَلَعِبٌۭ ۚ وَلَلدَّارُ ٱلْـَٔاخِرَةُ خَيْرٌۭ لِّلَّذِينَ يَتَّقُونَ ۗ أَفَلَا تَعْقِلُونَ"
"The life of this world is nothing but play and amusement. But far better is the home in the Hereafter for those who are righteous. Will you not then understand?" (Surah Al-An'am 6:32)
A man in the back wiped his eyes.
Another bowed his head in thought.
Even the most skeptical were quiet, contemplating.
And finally, Isarish concluded:
"True love is not in human relationships. It is not in attachment to people. It is in knowing Allah, in submitting to Him, in loving others only for His sake."
He exhaled.
"A heart that truly loves Allah will never be lost, never be broken—because it has found the only love that never fades."
He lifted his hands in du'a and ended:
"May Allah ﷻ guide our hearts to true love, free us from illusions, and grant us a love that leads to Jannah."
"Ameen."
And with that, the speech ended.
The masjid was silent.
No one moved.
Somewhere in the back, someone sniffled. A Hindu man folded his hands in silent respect. A British officer wiped his brow as if he had been holding his breath.
And as the people finally began to stir, to rise, to leave—many still deep in thought—Isarish knew that tonight, his words had reached more than just ears.
They had reached hearts.