My hands were shaking the first time I held a piece of dried leather marked with the words of the Qur’an — the holy book revealed to Prophet Muhammad ﷺ over twenty-three years. I wasn’t a known companion or even someone you’d find named in any book, but I was there. My name is Harith, and I was a young servant to one of the scribes trusted with the most precious task in all of Arabia — writing the revelation as it came to the Prophet ﷺ.
The first time I saw it happen, I was sweeping the floor of the Prophet’s mosque in Madinah — the city that became the home of Islam after the Prophet ﷺ and his followers migrated from Mecca. I remember the silence before it began. The Prophet ﷺ had been seated, surrounded by his companions. Then his face changed. He became quiet, distant. We all knew — revelation had begun.
Zayd ibn Thabit — one of the Prophet’s scribes and a companion skilled in reading and writing — sat ready, his reed pen gripped tightly, ink near his side. When the Prophet ﷺ came out of the state of receiving revelation, he turned and quietly said, “Write.” His voice was calm and full of certainty, as though the words were being carved into light.
Zayd began to write on anything available — pieces of parchment, flat bones, smooth stones, and dried leather. The Prophet ﷺ would speak the verses slowly, repeating them, and Zayd would carefully copy each word just as it was said. I remember their eyes — full of reverence. This wasn’t like writing poetry or recording history. This was different. This was divine.
One night, when the work was done for the day, I asked Zayd, “How do you know you haven’t made a mistake?”
He looked at me and said, “Because the Prophet ﷺ repeats the verses until we are sure. And more than that, Allah has promised to protect this book.”
His words settled deep in my heart. Allah — the one and only God — was not only sending guidance but preserving it too. That meant our work mattered. That meant I, even as a servant boy, had a part in protecting something eternal.
As time passed, I began to learn how to write the words myself. Zayd taught me slowly, making sure every letter was shaped correctly, every mark in place. He said, “This is amanah” — a trust from Allah. “You must treat every word as sacred.”
Now I am old, and my hands no longer grip the pen as tightly. But sometimes, when I close my eyes, I still see those moments — the Prophet ﷺ speaking, the companions listening, Zayd writing. And me, a boy who had once only held the ink pot, walking home with tears in his eyes, feeling the weight of a miracle written before him.
Story Note: Inspired by authentic Hadith, including Sahih al-Bukhari 4982, which mentions how revelation was written during the life of Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, and Zayd ibn Thabit’s role as one of the chief scribes.
My hands were shaking the first time I held a piece of dried leather marked with the words of the Qur’an — the holy book revealed to Prophet Muhammad ﷺ over twenty-three years. I wasn’t a known companion or even someone you’d find named in any book, but I was there. My name is Harith, and I was a young servant to one of the scribes trusted with the most precious task in all of Arabia — writing the revelation as it came to the Prophet ﷺ.
The first time I saw it happen, I was sweeping the floor of the Prophet’s mosque in Madinah — the city that became the home of Islam after the Prophet ﷺ and his followers migrated from Mecca. I remember the silence before it began. The Prophet ﷺ had been seated, surrounded by his companions. Then his face changed. He became quiet, distant. We all knew — revelation had begun.
Zayd ibn Thabit — one of the Prophet’s scribes and a companion skilled in reading and writing — sat ready, his reed pen gripped tightly, ink near his side. When the Prophet ﷺ came out of the state of receiving revelation, he turned and quietly said, “Write.” His voice was calm and full of certainty, as though the words were being carved into light.
Zayd began to write on anything available — pieces of parchment, flat bones, smooth stones, and dried leather. The Prophet ﷺ would speak the verses slowly, repeating them, and Zayd would carefully copy each word just as it was said. I remember their eyes — full of reverence. This wasn’t like writing poetry or recording history. This was different. This was divine.
One night, when the work was done for the day, I asked Zayd, “How do you know you haven’t made a mistake?”
He looked at me and said, “Because the Prophet ﷺ repeats the verses until we are sure. And more than that, Allah has promised to protect this book.”
His words settled deep in my heart. Allah — the one and only God — was not only sending guidance but preserving it too. That meant our work mattered. That meant I, even as a servant boy, had a part in protecting something eternal.
As time passed, I began to learn how to write the words myself. Zayd taught me slowly, making sure every letter was shaped correctly, every mark in place. He said, “This is amanah” — a trust from Allah. “You must treat every word as sacred.”
Now I am old, and my hands no longer grip the pen as tightly. But sometimes, when I close my eyes, I still see those moments — the Prophet ﷺ speaking, the companions listening, Zayd writing. And me, a boy who had once only held the ink pot, walking home with tears in his eyes, feeling the weight of a miracle written before him.
Story Note: Inspired by authentic Hadith, including Sahih al-Bukhari 4982, which mentions how revelation was written during the life of Prophet Muhammad ﷺ, and Zayd ibn Thabit’s role as one of the chief scribes.
