Originally published in CUIsoc 2025 magazine, Qasas.
As Cambridge students, I’m sure we all understand wanting to control our lives with a white-knuckled grip, working as hard as possible for the desired results. But as Muslims, we know to have full trust in Allah, tawwakul-ala-Allah , that no matter our personal efforts, the outcome is in His hands. We understand that we must tie the knot as securely as possible, let that grip go, and leave ourselves to our Lord. Yet it is only when this knowledge is tested, that it can be truly tempered. Grappling with post-university life and an unknown future ahead, my conviction in Allah’s plan was first tested then strengthened, as I look forward to a life beyond education.
The idea of qadr solidified fitself or me during A-Levels, when it clicked that all goodness comes not from me, but from Allah. When you have a set goal in mind, and when everything your heart desires does come true, the belief and the trust in Allah comes so much easier because it already aligns to your conception of the future. It was only when my desires and du’as did not align with the outcome that I truly learnt what it means to have tawwakul . Of course, all good and bad come from Allah. But when things don’t go as planned, the first thing we ask is why has Allah diverted our paths?
When we hold so tightly onto our lives and plans for the future, we asphyxiate our tolerance, acceptance, and the beauty of possibility. Growing up, the future seemed granted: one foot in front of the other. But the world outside of education feels like threads, once woven together, but now spooling out across the surface, indeterminable and tangled. As an English student with a skillset that very helpfully and unhelpfully traverses the full length and breadth of career opportunity, I am very grateful for the variety of choices in my future, but also somewhat struggling under the weight of indecision. I see my life ‘branching out before me’, much like Sylvia Plath’s fig tree analogy, ‘unable to decide’ on a singular fruit. Applying to internships at places with flashy names and dusting off my creaky maths skills, my shiny visions of a corporate future were met by endless rejections, and worst of all, silences.
Everyone moves on their own track. In education, we sit on the same timeline, progressing at the same pace. But that is not the case with life. Given the opportunity to breathe and take stock of what I truly want from this dunya and my akhira , my first instinct was to find the next step, and feel totally dejected when it didn’t materialise into view. As soon as my Tawwakul was tested, it crumbled. It had been completely based on Allah granting me exactly what I wanted. From the ruins, I was forced to rebuild my trust and submission to Allah’s plan, even (rather, especially) if it diverted from my projected track. Only now do I see the beauty in re-learning. Nothing happens without reason. When Allah diverts you from something that you desire so badly, it spins your bearings on every step in this life as not merely your own decisions, but part of a larger qadr .
I know that this is a universal experience, and I do not begrudge the process of being rejected—we’ve all been there. But for me personally, it was the realisations that stemmed from rejections that were the most valuable. It was not a case of giving up after being turned away, but rather one of changing perspectives. The most important thing I learnt was the true beauty of tawwakul . The true myth of this life is timing; the idea that we can control all our actions and outcomes. I had realised this earlier, but what had not yet clicked was that my obsession over the future had blinded me to all the blessings I currently had in my life, those that I had whispered prayers for years before. We are always looking towards the next thing we want, in our endless consumerism and bounty of our blessed lives. We rarely take the time to pause and really think, ‘Wow, I am actually living in an answered du’a !’
Even if you get everything your heart desires, this dunya will never love you back —we are all living on borrowed time and borrowed blessings. The most we can do is tie the camel, but even if that knot comes undone and the camel becomes loose (to stretch the metaphor further), the reality is that we plan, but Allah plans better.
As I stare at my future and can’t yet see things slotting into place, I know that that future is staring back at me, already written. There’s no point worrying over what we cannot control; the most we can do is loosen our grip and submit to His plan. I live in the present moment and spend more time living intentionally, to enjoy every moment of my final year with my friends, intentionally listen to Thursday Roots and Friday khutbahs, and find echoes of them throughout my week. Dislodging my mind from the future has also allowed me to reframe this dunya as a stepping stone to the akhira. I probably need this reminder more than anyone, continuously repeated as I go. I don’t have it all figured out, and that’s okay. Grant yourself some grace, because this is only dunya and at the end of it all, to Him we return.
I hope you’ve enjoyed my words!
Zaynub <3
