The Narratives – Mohamed Miah

By Mohamed Miah | The Narratives

Running Further From the One

There are times I sit in silence and wonder how far we’ve drifted. Not just from each other, or from the values we once held close, but from the very source of our existence. We spend so much of our lives caught in cycles — deadlines, desires, distractions — and every year, the world feels louder, faster, and more artificial. Yet beneath all this noise is a quiet truth: we were created by Allah, sustained by Him every second, and one day, we will return to Him. That’s not theory or superstition — that’s reality, whether we acknowledge it or not.

We live in an age where science is treated like scripture, and even the most complex discoveries are used to avoid the simplest question: who made all of this? We’ve reached a point where physicists openly admit that reality might not be “real,” that we could be living in a simulation, or that time isn’t linear, or that particles can exist in multiple states at once. And while they search for formulas and theories to explain what they can’t see, the very idea of God — the One who created and maintains every atom — is treated like a myth from a simpler time.

The Signs Were Never Hidden

But if we accept that matter behaves in ways that defy logic, that black holes can erase information, that nature is coded with geometry, order, and symmetry, then how is it so difficult to believe in the One behind all of it?

It frustrates me, not because I expect every scientist or thinker to become a believer overnight, but because the signs are so clear. The more you observe the world — from the veins in a leaf to the spiral of a galaxy — the more it points back to something greater. We have the audacity to accept the idea of particles being in two places at once, but can’t fathom that Allah is not confined by time or space. We are amazed by natural disasters, stunned by the raw power of a volcano or a tsunami, but can’t bring ourselves to accept that there is a force behind it all that sees, hears, and knows everything. These aren’t random displays of power — they are signs, warnings, reminders. The more we run toward science, the more we unknowingly run toward Him.

If the World Just Stopped for a Moment

But we don’t stop. We accelerate. We build more distractions, invent new worries, create artificial needs, all to avoid what’s within. And I often ask myself — what if the world just stopped? Not collapsed, not ended — just paused. What if, for a moment, every factory shut down, every car engine turned off, every screen went dark, and every person, rich or poor, powerful or forgotten, simply stood still and turned their heart to Allah? What if the world breathed again — not in fear or anxiety — but in recognition? Not out of desperation, but gratitude?

I imagine the quiet would be deafening. The Earth, so used to bearing our footsteps of heedlessness, might finally feel ease. The skies, so patient with our arrogance, might release a breeze of mercy. We forget how much peace is tied to remembrance. Allah doesn’t need us to worship Him — we need to worship because it’s the only thing that calms the soul. And if the world truly did pause to remember its Creator, perhaps it would heal. Perhaps we would too.

We Struggle to Bear This Dimension Alone

The irony is that we struggle in a world we barely understand. We suffer, we fear, we crumble — often over things that are temporary. We act strong, but deep down we’re fragile. The temperature rises slightly and we complain. A financial loss and we panic. A heartbreak and we unravel. If this is how we respond in one fragile dimension, how do we expect to survive the Day when seven heavens will crack, when mountains will crumble, when every soul will be brought to account? We can’t even survive our own emotions at times, yet we act as though we’ll be ready when the true reality arrives.

And that’s just this world. There are seven heavens. Realms of angels. Dimensions of light. A Throne beyond imagination. We were not built to contain that. We were built to call upon the One who does.

Our Purpose Was Never to Master the Code

You can’t escape it. The divine signature is written into everything. In nature. In your breathing. In your DNA. In the very concept of cause and effect. In the way your tears fall when your heart aches for something deeper — something eternal.

There’s geometry in leaves, repetition in waves, patterns in pain. Even chaos follows order. Every natural disaster is a show of power. Every black hole is a whisper: “Look how small you are.”

But arrogance blinds us. Shaytan fuels it. And the Dajjal system makes sure you stay distracted. They want you to see the creation and forget the Creator. To talk of atoms, light, time, dimensions, energy — without ever saying His Name. But it’s all a game of delay. All of it.

He Doesn’t Need Us — But He Knows We Need Him

The beauty is, we don’t need to know everything. That’s not our purpose. Our job was never to figure out the entire universe — it was to recognise the One who made it. To reflect, to remember, to submit. To spend our lives trying to please Him, knowing that the full understanding, the ultimate clarity, comes after this life. If we pass, we’ll get our answers. We’ll meet our Lord. And if we’re granted that meeting, nothing else will matter.

So maybe we don’t need another theory. Maybe we don’t need another simulation model or TED Talk about consciousness. Maybe we just need to stop — not forever, just long enough to remember. To look around, and then within. And to say with sincerity: “I’m here, Ya Allah. I know I’ve been distracted. But I haven’t forgotten You. Please don’t forget me.”