It was right after the 'Asr prayer—what we call the late afternoon salah—when I noticed him. You wouldn’t know my name from any book, but I used to sweep the floor of the masjid, back when the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ would lead us in prayer with such peace that even the birds seemed to quiet.
Most people would leave once prayer ended. Some would whisper a quick du‘a — a personal prayer — or say “As-salaamu ‘alaykum” and go back to work or family. I would too, until the day I saw what the Prophet ﷺ did after salah.
He sat. Still. His lips moved quietly.
I was curious. His companions, like Abu Bakr and ‘Umar — two of the Prophet’s most trusted followers — also stayed behind, sitting beside him, quietly reciting something. I leaned against the wall, just close enough to hear.
“SubhanAllah… Alhamdulillah… Allahu Akbar…”
Each word held a rhythm, like a calm wave in a restless sea:
“SubhanAllah” — “Glory be to Allah,” they said, praising Allah’s perfection.
“Alhamdulillah” — “All praise is due to Allah,” they continued, thanking Him for every blessing.
“Allahu Akbar” — “Allah is the Greatest,” they whispered, hearts full of reverence.
Someone had once told me a hadith — a teaching of the Prophet ﷺ from Sahih Muslim and Tirmidhi collections — that after prayer, repeating these words thirty-three times each (and saying “La ilaha illa Allah” — “There is no god but Allah”) was better than everything the world could offer. But I never felt it… until that day.
As I watched them, something stirred in me. The prayer had ended—but for them, their connection with Allah continued. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t routine. It was real.
I remember the Prophet ﷺ once saying that whoever does this dhikr — this remembrance of Allah — consistently after each prayer, their sins would be forgiven even if they were as much as the foam on the sea. I had many sins. Small things, maybe, but enough to weigh on me: words said in anger, prayers missed in my youth, days I lived without remembering Him.
So, I sat back down. For the first time after prayer, I stayed.
“SubhanAllah… Alhamdulillah… Allahu Akbar…”
At first, I only said the words. But slowly, the meanings lifted in my heart. I looked around at the sky outside the masjid door, at the children playing in the dust, at the date trees swaying slightly in the breeze. I thought of all Allah had given me, even when I forgot Him.
By the 33rd “Allahu Akbar,” I felt peace settle into my chest like I’d never known before.
Since that day, I never rushed away. Prayer didn’t end with salam for me—it began a moment of remembrance that healed what the world wore down. A few quiet minutes, whispering words that carried me closer to the One who never forgets me.
And I know this now: dhikr after salah isn’t something extra. It is a gift from Allah. A way to keep the prayer alive in us just a little longer.
Story Note:
Inspired by the hadith found in Sahih Muslim 596 and Tirmidhi 3413, about the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ leading his companions in dhikr — remembrance of Allah — after the five daily prayers.
It was right after the 'Asr prayer—what we call the late afternoon salah—when I noticed him. You wouldn’t know my name from any book, but I used to sweep the floor of the masjid, back when the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ would lead us in prayer with such peace that even the birds seemed to quiet.
Most people would leave once prayer ended. Some would whisper a quick du‘a — a personal prayer — or say “As-salaamu ‘alaykum” and go back to work or family. I would too, until the day I saw what the Prophet ﷺ did after salah.
He sat. Still. His lips moved quietly.
I was curious. His companions, like Abu Bakr and ‘Umar — two of the Prophet’s most trusted followers — also stayed behind, sitting beside him, quietly reciting something. I leaned against the wall, just close enough to hear.
“SubhanAllah… Alhamdulillah… Allahu Akbar…”
Each word held a rhythm, like a calm wave in a restless sea:
“SubhanAllah” — “Glory be to Allah,” they said, praising Allah’s perfection.
“Alhamdulillah” — “All praise is due to Allah,” they continued, thanking Him for every blessing.
“Allahu Akbar” — “Allah is the Greatest,” they whispered, hearts full of reverence.
Someone had once told me a hadith — a teaching of the Prophet ﷺ from Sahih Muslim and Tirmidhi collections — that after prayer, repeating these words thirty-three times each (and saying “La ilaha illa Allah” — “There is no god but Allah”) was better than everything the world could offer. But I never felt it… until that day.
As I watched them, something stirred in me. The prayer had ended—but for them, their connection with Allah continued. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t routine. It was real.
I remember the Prophet ﷺ once saying that whoever does this dhikr — this remembrance of Allah — consistently after each prayer, their sins would be forgiven even if they were as much as the foam on the sea. I had many sins. Small things, maybe, but enough to weigh on me: words said in anger, prayers missed in my youth, days I lived without remembering Him.
So, I sat back down. For the first time after prayer, I stayed.
“SubhanAllah… Alhamdulillah… Allahu Akbar…”
At first, I only said the words. But slowly, the meanings lifted in my heart. I looked around at the sky outside the masjid door, at the children playing in the dust, at the date trees swaying slightly in the breeze. I thought of all Allah had given me, even when I forgot Him.
By the 33rd “Allahu Akbar,” I felt peace settle into my chest like I’d never known before.
Since that day, I never rushed away. Prayer didn’t end with salam for me—it began a moment of remembrance that healed what the world wore down. A few quiet minutes, whispering words that carried me closer to the One who never forgets me.
And I know this now: dhikr after salah isn’t something extra. It is a gift from Allah. A way to keep the prayer alive in us just a little longer.
Story Note:
Inspired by the hadith found in Sahih Muslim 596 and Tirmidhi 3413, about the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ leading his companions in dhikr — remembrance of Allah — after the five daily prayers.
