From Lahore to the Ummah: One Rope, One Path, One Wound

Politicians Who Play Dirty Politics Against Opponent Religious Groups, Erode Muslim Ummah’s Unity”

In 1972–73, from the heart of Lahore, I sent a simple yet profound message to the leaders of the Islamic world: “Hold firmly to the rope of Allah, and do not be divided among yourselves.” (“WATASIMU HABLA LILLAHI JAMEAA” – Aal-e-Imran 3:103). That cable, a whisper to kings and presidents, was not merely political—it was spiritual, moral, and timeless. Its echo still resonates in my mind. At that time, the Ummah was bruised, raw from the partition of Bangladesh. My message, brief as it was, carried the pain of millions and the hope of a unified Islamic conscience.
In those very days, I was associated with “Talaba Magazine ” . Its chief editor was a passionate young writer-now a senior journalist, popular novelist, and intellectual- Mahmood Ahmad Moodi: serious, profound and far-sighted.We shared this vision. Together, we wrote: “Bangladesh Not Acceptable!”—a cry for justice, not vengeance. That moment taught me the delicate balance: principle must coexist with prudence; the heart must temper the mind. And it is this principle that must guide today’s discourse between Sunni and Shia.
The Zaydi Shia, I have come to understand, can serve as a bridge between the two major sections of Islam. Their intellectual tradition—rooted in justice, accountability, and moral responsibility—offers a path to reconciliation. Zaydi thought rejects blind obedience, emphasizes knowledge and ethics, and reminds us that leadership is earned through justice, not inherited or imposed. In a world where external forces exploit division, such a bridge is not a luxury—it is a necessity.
For decades, Muslim lands have become chessboards for external powers. Iran, under pressure politically, economically, and militarily, stands as both symbol and flashpoint. Yet the divisions within the Ummah weaken the entire body. The Prophet ﷺ taught: “The believers, in their mutual love, mercy, and compassion, are like one body; when one limb suffers, the whole body responds with sleeplessness and fever.” (Bukhari & Muslim)
Standing with the oppressed is a duty, not a preference. The Qur’an commands: “And what is [the matter] with you that you do not fight in the cause of Allah and for the oppressed among men, women, and children…” (An-Nisa: 75). Yet, justice must remain the compass: “Let not the hatred of a people prevent you from being just.” (Al-Ma’idah: 8)
Division is the Ummah’s most enduring vulnerability. Takfir, accusations, and sectarian hostility weaken the collective body. The Companions (may Allah be pleased with them) are exalted. Declaring a brother a disbeliever is forbidden: “Whoever calls his brother a disbeliever, it returns upon one of them.” (Bukhari & Muslim) Words must repel evil with wisdom: “Repel evil with that which is best.” (Fussilat: 34)
The challenge before us is both internal and external. Externally, global powers manipulate Muslim lands. Internally, our divisions provide the fertile ground. Yemen, Hijaz, Iran, Arab lands—they are not just geographic realities; they are interconnected fates. If the Ummah cannot act as one, external forces will exploit every fracture.
Our response must be threefold: stand with the oppressed, oppose injustice with justice, and prevent differences from becoming enmity. This is not theory—it is survival. Unity is immunity; division is vulnerability. The Qur’an reminds us: “Hold firmly to the rope of Allah all together and do not become divided.”
Love and ethics, not slogans or power, must become our guide. The Prophet ﷺ said: “People are of two kinds: either your brothers in faith or your equals in humanity.” (Nahj al-Balagha) These are not merely words—they are the foundation of action.
The lessons of history are clear. Every collapse of Muslim power was preceded by internal division; every renaissance began with unity. The Zaydi approach offers practical guidance: seek knowledge, uphold justice, restrain oppression, and build bridges. Through it, Sunni and Shia can recognize shared faith, ethics, and destiny, even as differences remain. Differences are natural; division is destructive.
Today, the Middle East faces a strategic, existential challenge. Iran’s pressure, Western intervention, and regional instability could ignite broader conflict. But the real question is not military—it is spiritual and moral: will the Ummah rise as one body, responding to oppression, injustice, and global manipulation? Or will it fracture further, providing its own undoing?
The path forward requires courage, clarity, and humility. Scholars, leaders, and communities must prioritize unity over partisanship, understanding over animosity, ethics over opportunism. The youth must be taught history and principles, not slogans and sectarian bias. Mosques must echo dialogue and compassion, not division and accusation.
BaBa Tall, the wandering voice of conscience, reminds us: “The river of knowledge flows beneath the earth before it becomes a spring. You are looking at the fire—but not at the roots beneath it. Prepare yourselves… for what is coming is not just war—it is transformation.”
Indeed, the next phase of history is already approaching. It will not ask whether you were Sunni or Shia—but whether you stood for truth, justice, and unity. This is the legacy of 1972–73, the lesson of the Qur’an, the voice of conscience carried through decades: “WATASIMU HABLA LILLAHI JAMEAA.”
The choice is ours. Stand divided, and we risk destruction. Stand united, and the Ummah can rise—moral, resilient, and unconquerable.
O lovers of Ibn Abdullah ﷺ—unite. Unite your hearts, your minds, your lands, your souls. Let love, justice, and mercy bind us into one body. One Ummah. One rope. One path. One future.