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ejected friends with whom I had grown up. We had shared experiences and we once bonded as
children. In a way, I understand now that we were actually vital to each other. To reject a friend with
whom you have grown up is to reject a fundamental part of your own personality and history. We
grow up in human interaction with one another. This was something that was implicitly rejected by the
religious dogma propagated by word of mouth in the school corridors and the school mosque. I see
this same rejection of the human, communal component in twenty-first-century dogmatic versions of
Islam. I imagine that it can only lead to the same sense of emptiness and anxiety that I and others of my
generation experienced.
In this letter I wanted to demonstrate to you the innocent and well-meaning path that any one of us
can follow in the desire to be a good Muslim. Saif, I want you to be aware of the well-constructed
path to a closed worldview that will, if followed, lead a person to a dangerous place. It can lead a
well-meaning and sincere child to a place of close-minded anger and aggression. It is not inevitable,
nor is it necessary. It is possible. How to guard against it? You guard against it by remembering that
life is to be lived and that there is always more than one way of dealing with obstacles. I reached a
place of isolation and anger, fueled by religious certainties. Today I realize that certainties are not a
privilege and a blessing but an obligation and a burden. Certainty should be gentle and cautious, not
aggressive and angry. I hope that you can learn from the well-trodden path I have described to you
here and keep an eye out for where goodness really abides. Within you and your gentle certainties.