When I was young, I often passed by the ruins of the city where Uzair — known in some scriptures as the prophet Ezra — once lived. My grandfather would shake his head and say, “This was once a place of life, but now, see how it lies in dust.” I never truly understood what he meant—until that one day when everything changed.
You won’t find my name in any surah, but I was there.
I was a servant living in the outskirts of that desolate place. It was a region once full of believers from the Children of Israel, but they had been scattered, and the city was abandoned, its homes broken and its people gone. One day, a traveler came riding a donkey. He wore a cloak faded by journey and time. Slung across his back was a small basket of figs and a jug of water. He looked around at the crumbled buildings and collapsed rooftops. Then, I heard him speak aloud, as if wondering to himself, “How will Allah bring this town back to life after its destruction?”
The man’s name was Uzair — a righteous man and scholar who had memorized the Taurat, the holy scripture given to Prophet Musa (Moses).
There was no arrogance in his question. It was spoken out of amazement, not doubt. He believed in Allah, but like many of us, he couldn’t see how something so broken could ever be made whole again. So he sat under a tree nearby, tied his donkey, and rested. I kept watching from behind the stones, curious.
That was when the miracle happened.
Uzair died.
Not from sickness. Not from age. He simply went still. His face remained calm, eyes closed like a man in peace. His donkey, too, collapsed and turned to bone. I didn’t understand. I ran away in fear. But a hundred years passed — or so the elders later said — and one day, Uzair woke up. Just like that. His body was fresh, as though no time had passed. Allah, the Most Powerful, had caused him to die for a hundred years… and then returned him to life.
“How long have you stayed?” came the question from an unseen angel.
He replied, “A day… or part of a day.”
But he had been gone for a hundred years.
As proof, Allah showed Uzair the bones of his donkey. Before his very eyes, the bones came together again, layer after layer — first bone, then flesh, then skin — until the donkey stood, braying and alive.
I was older by then. I had seen many things in life, but when I heard what happened, my eyes filled with tears. The same dry city we once called dead had begun to bustle again. People returned. Faith returned. Uzair reminded us that Allah can bring life from death, hope from ruin. Even hearts that have long forgotten can be awakened.
That day, I truly believed that Allah’s power has no limit.
Story Note: Inspired by Surah Al-Baqarah 2:259 and classical tafsir such as Ibn Kathir, which narrates the story of Uzair and his resurrection after a century.
When I was young, I often passed by the ruins of the city where Uzair — known in some scriptures as the prophet Ezra — once lived. My grandfather would shake his head and say, “This was once a place of life, but now, see how it lies in dust.” I never truly understood what he meant—until that one day when everything changed.
You won’t find my name in any surah, but I was there.
I was a servant living in the outskirts of that desolate place. It was a region once full of believers from the Children of Israel, but they had been scattered, and the city was abandoned, its homes broken and its people gone. One day, a traveler came riding a donkey. He wore a cloak faded by journey and time. Slung across his back was a small basket of figs and a jug of water. He looked around at the crumbled buildings and collapsed rooftops. Then, I heard him speak aloud, as if wondering to himself, “How will Allah bring this town back to life after its destruction?”
The man’s name was Uzair — a righteous man and scholar who had memorized the Taurat, the holy scripture given to Prophet Musa (Moses).
There was no arrogance in his question. It was spoken out of amazement, not doubt. He believed in Allah, but like many of us, he couldn’t see how something so broken could ever be made whole again. So he sat under a tree nearby, tied his donkey, and rested. I kept watching from behind the stones, curious.
That was when the miracle happened.
Uzair died.
Not from sickness. Not from age. He simply went still. His face remained calm, eyes closed like a man in peace. His donkey, too, collapsed and turned to bone. I didn’t understand. I ran away in fear. But a hundred years passed — or so the elders later said — and one day, Uzair woke up. Just like that. His body was fresh, as though no time had passed. Allah, the Most Powerful, had caused him to die for a hundred years… and then returned him to life.
“How long have you stayed?” came the question from an unseen angel.
He replied, “A day… or part of a day.”
But he had been gone for a hundred years.
As proof, Allah showed Uzair the bones of his donkey. Before his very eyes, the bones came together again, layer after layer — first bone, then flesh, then skin — until the donkey stood, braying and alive.
I was older by then. I had seen many things in life, but when I heard what happened, my eyes filled with tears. The same dry city we once called dead had begun to bustle again. People returned. Faith returned. Uzair reminded us that Allah can bring life from death, hope from ruin. Even hearts that have long forgotten can be awakened.
That day, I truly believed that Allah’s power has no limit.
Story Note: Inspired by Surah Al-Baqarah 2:259 and classical tafsir such as Ibn Kathir, which narrates the story of Uzair and his resurrection after a century.
