A Heartfelt Confession: Returning to the Core of Tabligh Amidst the Ongoing Crisis

Despite the ongoing heartbreak over the current issues surrounding Tabligh Jamaat, I want to share a small piece of good news: the testimony of an alim who has returned to the mainstream of Tabligh Jamaat from a splinter group:

“I am a child of the Tabligh family. Through the effort of Tabligh, my siblings and I enrolled in madrasas and became alims. We grew up observing our father, a dedicated Tablighi, up close. We also deeply respected and admired our teachers and scholars. However, our father’s lifestyle—his adherence to Sunnah, night prayers, taqwa, and fear of Allah—left an indelible mark on us.

When the current Tabligh crisis began, our teachers started criticizing Maulana Saad in class, comparing him to Mawdudi. As a student of ilm, it pained me deeply. In 2017, while studying Dawrah Hadith at a major madrasa in Dhaka, our Shaykh spent hours in the Bukhari class giving speeches against Maulana Saad. This created hatred in my heart towards him.

When Maulana Saad arrived in Bangladesh before the Ijtema, we, as madrasa students, were mobilized to protest at the airport. Thousands of us gathered, chanting slogans under the leadership of Befaqul Madaris officials. At that time, I felt it was for the sake of Allah. Later, we marched with shoes raised, shouting disgraceful slogans.

After the protest, while traveling back, a fellow student named Maruf, a Tablighi, said to me, ‘Shihab Bhai, it is our duty to protest Maulana Saad’s mistakes as he is our elder. But using shoes and vulgar language felt wrong to me. This might set a dangerous precedent where students disrespect scholars in the future.’ His words stayed with me.

Shortly after, we were sent to Tongi to stop the Itteaatis’ five-day gathering. All the madrasa teachers and scholars returned home that night, but some students stayed back. We spent the night breaking bricks and preparing to throw them. The next morning, when thousands of Tablighi brothers arrived at the ground and started teaching, unfamiliar scholars arrived, inciting us to throw bricks and attack them.

Some students, filled with emotion, began hurling bricks from the rooftop. Below, elder Tablighis, who could be our fathers or uncles, cried out, ‘Why are you hitting us? We are your elders.’ Blood flowed as their heads were struck. Watching this horrifying scene broke me completely. Couldn’t this be my own father or uncle? Who were we attacking, and for what?

I climbed down from the rooftop, unable to continue. By then, Tablighi brothers had broken through the gates and disarmed many of us. Yet, even in their anger, many restrained their fellow brothers from retaliating. Amid the chaos, I suddenly saw my paternal uncle. He was crying uncontrollably, saying, ‘Why did we raise you as scholars? To attack us? If we are wrong, you could have explained it to us—once, twice, or even a hundred times. But instead, you’re throwing bricks at us?’

Hearing this, I broke down. We began searching for my father but couldn’t find him. After returning to the madrasa, I called home and learned my father had safely returned. I was too ashamed to speak to him.

A few months later, my elder brother shared tahqeeq (evidence) regarding Maulana Saad’s supposed mistakes. Most of it was fabricated or taken out of context. It was a conspiracy to destroy the amarat (leadership).

One night during dinner, my father shared profound insights about ilm and the purpose of issuing fatawa. He then addressed us: ‘You didn’t pressure me into leaving Tabligh, and for that, I’m grateful. But do you think my iman or aqeedah is corrupted? My children, know this: my deen is greater to me than my family or worldly ties. I can leave anyone, but I cannot leave my deen, my Tablighi effort, or my Amir of 30 years, because my Hereafter depends on this.’

Hearing these words, we embraced our father, crying, and I decided to stand firmly with the mainstream Tabligh Jamaat and the amarat. Alhamdulillah, I have been part of this effort ever since.”

— Mufti Ahmad Hasan (Hafidhahullah)