The wind was cold that night, and the stars above the mountains of Mecca—where the Kaaba stands—shone with a strange stillness. I remember because I could not sleep. My name won’t be found in any surah or hadith. I was just a shepherd boy, no older than thirteen, and I had tied my goats near Jabal al-Noor—the Mountain of Light.
That’s when I first saw him.
He was not like the others of Quraysh, the tribe who ruled Mecca. He did not worship idols. Some even called him crazy for walking away from the world for days at a time. But I had seen him before. He would quietly climb the mountain and sit in the small cave there—Cave Hira—with no food but a little water and some dates. They said he was searching for truth. I didn’t understand what that meant back then.
Until that night.
I was dozing near the rocks when I heard a voice—not coming from any doorway or man’s throat. It was… otherworldly. Powerful. I scrambled up on my knees and crept closer to the cave. I knew I shouldn’t be there, but something inside me pulled me forward.
I couldn’t see much, but what I heard changed my whole life.
The voice said: "Iqra’"—an Arabic word meaning "Read" or "Recite." The man in the cave—Muhammad ibn Abdullah, peace and blessings be upon him—answered with fear in his voice, “I am not one who can read.”
The voice repeated, “Iqra.’” Again, he said he could not read.
When the words came a third time, they were followed by a revelation so clear and beautiful it burned itself into my heart, even though I was just a boy hiding behind a stone.
"Read, in the Name of your Lord who created. Created man from a clot. Read, and your Lord is the Most Generous—Who taught by the pen—taught man what he knew not." (Surah Al-Alaq, 96:1-5)
After that, silence.
I couldn’t move. Not from fear—though I had plenty of that—but because something inside me had awakened. Who was this Lord who taught mankind? Who was the One who created us—and then chose to speak to this man alone, in a cave, before anyone else knew?
I remember watching as Muhammad ﷺ stumbled down the mountain. He looked shaken, as one who had seen something beyond this world. He kept whispering to himself, holding his cloak tight as he hurried down to Mecca.
The years passed, and I learned what "Iqra" truly meant. It wasn’t just about reading words. It was the beginning of guidance. A voice from Allah to humanity, telling us our purpose was not wealth or idols—but knowledge, mercy, and worship.
That night, I had only been a boy with goats. But I had heard the first words of the Qur’an—the holy book revealed to Muhammad ﷺ by Allah. And somewhere deep inside, I knew the world would never be the same.
We were not forgotten. Allah had spoken. And everything changed.
Story Note: Inspired by the Seerah (biography) of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ and Surah Al-Alaq (96:1–5), describing the first revelation in the Cave of Hira.
The wind was cold that night, and the stars above the mountains of Mecca—where the Kaaba stands—shone with a strange stillness. I remember because I could not sleep. My name won’t be found in any surah or hadith. I was just a shepherd boy, no older than thirteen, and I had tied my goats near Jabal al-Noor—the Mountain of Light.
That’s when I first saw him.
He was not like the others of Quraysh, the tribe who ruled Mecca. He did not worship idols. Some even called him crazy for walking away from the world for days at a time. But I had seen him before. He would quietly climb the mountain and sit in the small cave there—Cave Hira—with no food but a little water and some dates. They said he was searching for truth. I didn’t understand what that meant back then.
Until that night.
I was dozing near the rocks when I heard a voice—not coming from any doorway or man’s throat. It was… otherworldly. Powerful. I scrambled up on my knees and crept closer to the cave. I knew I shouldn’t be there, but something inside me pulled me forward.
I couldn’t see much, but what I heard changed my whole life.
The voice said: "Iqra’"—an Arabic word meaning "Read" or "Recite." The man in the cave—Muhammad ibn Abdullah, peace and blessings be upon him—answered with fear in his voice, “I am not one who can read.”
The voice repeated, “Iqra.’” Again, he said he could not read.
When the words came a third time, they were followed by a revelation so clear and beautiful it burned itself into my heart, even though I was just a boy hiding behind a stone.
"Read, in the Name of your Lord who created. Created man from a clot. Read, and your Lord is the Most Generous—Who taught by the pen—taught man what he knew not." (Surah Al-Alaq, 96:1-5)
After that, silence.
I couldn’t move. Not from fear—though I had plenty of that—but because something inside me had awakened. Who was this Lord who taught mankind? Who was the One who created us—and then chose to speak to this man alone, in a cave, before anyone else knew?
I remember watching as Muhammad ﷺ stumbled down the mountain. He looked shaken, as one who had seen something beyond this world. He kept whispering to himself, holding his cloak tight as he hurried down to Mecca.
The years passed, and I learned what "Iqra" truly meant. It wasn’t just about reading words. It was the beginning of guidance. A voice from Allah to humanity, telling us our purpose was not wealth or idols—but knowledge, mercy, and worship.
That night, I had only been a boy with goats. But I had heard the first words of the Qur’an—the holy book revealed to Muhammad ﷺ by Allah. And somewhere deep inside, I knew the world would never be the same.
We were not forgotten. Allah had spoken. And everything changed.
Story Note: Inspired by the Seerah (biography) of the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ and Surah Al-Alaq (96:1–5), describing the first revelation in the Cave of Hira.
