You probably wouldn’t remember me. I was just a boy—a boy who carried water jugs and swept the floors near the Kaaba in Mecca, the sacred house built by Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham). But I remember that day like the scent of rain on dry earth. The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ—peace and blessings be upon him—was sitting quietly, and his eyes looked like they held whole oceans. He hadn’t spoken much all day. I had seen people mocking him again, calling him names behind his back, laughing cruelly at his sorrow.
That year had been the hardest for him. His wife Khadijah—who had always stood by him—and his uncle Abu Talib, his protector, had both returned to Allah. He seemed so alone, though I knew deep in my chest Allah was with him. Still, the streets of Mecca were cruel. Men from the Quraysh—the powerful tribe—called him “cut off,” meaning he had no sons, no legacy. I didn’t understand why they said such harsh things. I didn’t know then that they were hoping to erase his message by saying he had no one to carry it on.
I kept my head down and walked past him. But then—he stood. He had just received a revelation, and my heart skipped. I’d watched this happen before. His face would change. He would become still, alert. His lips would move slightly, as though reciting something beautiful that the rest of us could not yet hear.
Later that day, someone recited the verses he had received. They were short—only three ayahs (verses)—but they poured through me like light in a dark room.
“Indeed, We have granted you Al-Kawthar. So pray to your Lord and offer sacrifice. For he who hates you—he is the one cut off.” (Qur’an 108:1-3)
Al-Kawthar. The word itself felt like a gift. I asked someone what it meant, and the elder said it was a river in Jannah—Paradise—more beautiful than any stream on Earth. But the scholars also say it means a great abundance: of goodness, honor, and blessings. I realized then—it wasn’t about children or worldly things. Allah was telling the Prophet ﷺ that he had been given something far greater—a legacy of truth, mercy, and eternal reward that would never be cut off.
I felt something rise in me—pride, yes, but also certainty. The people of Mecca thought legacy came from sons, from wealth. But Allah showed that lasting honor comes from truth and from nearness to Him. Even if every voice mocked the Prophet ﷺ, we now had proof, from Allah Himself, that he had been given the most abundant good.
That night, as I lay staring at the stars above Mecca, I whispered, “Ya Allah, make me a servant of that legacy. I want to be part of the abundance You gave him.”
And I believed, in that quiet moment under the desert sky, that the world would change forever.
Story Note:
Inspired by Surah Al-Kawthar (Qur’an 108:1–3) and classical tafsir traditions about its revelation, including commentary from scholars like Ibn Kathir that Al-Kawthar represents immense blessings given to Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, both in this world and the Hereafter, including a special river in Paradise.
You probably wouldn’t remember me. I was just a boy—a boy who carried water jugs and swept the floors near the Kaaba in Mecca, the sacred house built by Prophet Ibrahim (Abraham). But I remember that day like the scent of rain on dry earth. The Prophet Muhammad ﷺ—peace and blessings be upon him—was sitting quietly, and his eyes looked like they held whole oceans. He hadn’t spoken much all day. I had seen people mocking him again, calling him names behind his back, laughing cruelly at his sorrow.
That year had been the hardest for him. His wife Khadijah—who had always stood by him—and his uncle Abu Talib, his protector, had both returned to Allah. He seemed so alone, though I knew deep in my chest Allah was with him. Still, the streets of Mecca were cruel. Men from the Quraysh—the powerful tribe—called him “cut off,” meaning he had no sons, no legacy. I didn’t understand why they said such harsh things. I didn’t know then that they were hoping to erase his message by saying he had no one to carry it on.
I kept my head down and walked past him. But then—he stood. He had just received a revelation, and my heart skipped. I’d watched this happen before. His face would change. He would become still, alert. His lips would move slightly, as though reciting something beautiful that the rest of us could not yet hear.
Later that day, someone recited the verses he had received. They were short—only three ayahs (verses)—but they poured through me like light in a dark room.
“Indeed, We have granted you Al-Kawthar. So pray to your Lord and offer sacrifice. For he who hates you—he is the one cut off.” (Qur’an 108:1-3)
Al-Kawthar. The word itself felt like a gift. I asked someone what it meant, and the elder said it was a river in Jannah—Paradise—more beautiful than any stream on Earth. But the scholars also say it means a great abundance: of goodness, honor, and blessings. I realized then—it wasn’t about children or worldly things. Allah was telling the Prophet ﷺ that he had been given something far greater—a legacy of truth, mercy, and eternal reward that would never be cut off.
I felt something rise in me—pride, yes, but also certainty. The people of Mecca thought legacy came from sons, from wealth. But Allah showed that lasting honor comes from truth and from nearness to Him. Even if every voice mocked the Prophet ﷺ, we now had proof, from Allah Himself, that he had been given the most abundant good.
That night, as I lay staring at the stars above Mecca, I whispered, “Ya Allah, make me a servant of that legacy. I want to be part of the abundance You gave him.”
And I believed, in that quiet moment under the desert sky, that the world would change forever.
Story Note:
Inspired by Surah Al-Kawthar (Qur’an 108:1–3) and classical tafsir traditions about its revelation, including commentary from scholars like Ibn Kathir that Al-Kawthar represents immense blessings given to Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, both in this world and the Hereafter, including a special river in Paradise.
