Stop Judging, Start Acting: A Call to Genuine Faith and Compassion

 

There are some people in this world who seem truly blessed. They have parents who support them, resources to meet their needs, and the freedom to make choices without fear of survival. For these people, life is not a constant battle to stay afloat. They have the privilege of deciding what is right and wrong, halal and haram, in their own time. And yet, for some, this blessing turns into something else: a tool for judgment and a sense of superiority.

Let me ask you something: have you ever stopped to think about the lives of those less fortunate? Not in a superficial, pitying way, but deeply and sincerely? Because, let’s be honest, it’s easy to preach when you’re not the one struggling. It’s easy to tell someone to follow religious guidelines when you’re not the one with an empty stomach.

The Burden of Hypocrisy

Let’s talk about a common scenario: someone tells a poor, hungry person to only eat what’s halal. Sounds good, right? Halal food is important in Islam. But what if that poor person doesn’t even have the luxury to choose? What if they’re faced with the harsh reality of survival? You, sitting comfortably with your meal, have the privilege of making that choice. They don’t.

And yet, it’s not uncommon to see people—well-fed, financially stable, living in comfort—lecturing others on their supposed shortcomings. Some of these same people go on pilgrimages, donate publicly, and then think of themselves as superior Muslims. Is this piety, or is it pride in disguise?

The True Lives of Religious Leaders

Here’s another question for you: have you ever studied the lives of truly pious religious leaders? Most of them lived humbly, avoided worldly pleasures, and spent their lives serving others without a shred of arrogance. Their greatness wasn’t in what they had, but in what they gave up. They didn’t judge others—they helped them. They weren’t interested in superficial superiority—they were focused on humility and self-improvement.

Feed the Poor, Literally and Metaphorically

Instead of sitting in judgment of others, let’s take action. If you have resources, why not use them to help those who don’t? If someone is suffering, offer support, not unsolicited advice. If someone is struggling with their faith, guide them through kindness and understanding, not through criticism wrapped in fake concern.

Think of the poor not just in terms of financial poverty, but in every sense: the poor in spirit, the poor in opportunity, the poor in guidance. If you’re blessed with the resources, knowledge, and privilege to help, then do so. Share what you have. Give without expecting anything in return.

Are You Passing or Failing Your Test?

Here’s something many of us forget: your blessings aren’t necessarily a reward for your good deeds. They might just be your test on this earth. And the truth is, many of us are failing it. Instead of gratitude, we show arrogance. Instead of compassion, we show judgment.

If you’re so eager to advise others, then first take a hard look at your own life. Have you sacrificed for others? Have you cut down your luxuries to lift someone else up? Have you fed the poor, not just with food, but with dignity, love, and understanding?

Fix Yourself First

This isn’t a call to silence—it’s a call to action. Before you lecture someone about halal and haram, about right and wrong, ask yourself: have I earned the right to advise? Am I truly acting out of concern, or is it pride in disguise?

We need fewer lectures and more examples. Fewer criticisms and more compassion. Stop judging. Start acting. Fix your own faith first, and then let your actions speak louder than your words.

A Final Thought

If you’re blessed, use it as an opportunity to make the world better—not to inflate your own sense of superiority. True faith lies in humility, not judgment. True greatness lies in service, not in the illusion of piety.

So, the next time you’re tempted to advise someone, pause. Ask yourself: am I helping, or am I just feeding my pride? If you truly care, then act. Because in the end, it’s not the lectures you give, but the lives you touch, that will define your legacy.

Lost in Love, Found in You

Hey dear reader! Go through my poem, try to understand the emotional depths I have captured and give me your valuable opinion. Cheers 🥂 

I have fallen into the depths of love,

A love so pure, sent from above.

Swollen eyes that hold the skies,

Long lashes guarding truths and lies.

Your nose, a curve of perfect grace,

Your intellect—a boundless space.

Yet life has dealt its cruelest hand,

Deceived by those you call your band.

You stand so tall, though burdened so,

Carrying weights the world won't know.

And here I stand, a shadow small,

Terrified I’ll never match it all.

But how can I leave this love of mine,

This rare bloom in life’s hard line?

The first I’ve known, so raw, so true,

To leave you now—I’d split in two.

Yet I feel the pressure in my chest,

To build a life, to be my best.

Not for the world, but just for you,

To ease your load, to see us through.

But my past, it lingers, heavy and stark,

A path of failures, lost in the dark.

I’ve been broken, shattered, and bruised,

My direction unclear, my spirit confused.

Still, I try to rise, though fears persist,

For every failure tightens its fist.

I’m not extraordinary, not like you,

Just a woman trying to make it through.

Yet even in this storm, I know,

Your love is the flame that makes me glow.

I may be lost, but I won't lose you,

For you are my anchor, my guiding hue.

So I’ll fight the fears, the doubts, the pain,

To build a life where love will reign.

And though I stumble, I vow to prove,

That I am worthy of this love we move.

Stay with me, my heart’s first flame,

Together we’ll rise, despite the shame.

For love like this, rare and true,

Is worth the world—and all I’ll do.

Dilemma

Hey reader! Enjoy the poem. Feel the power of words and tell me what you think of it.

What's the end of it?

Years of hardwork melting into nothing?

Meaning nothing?

You've been so unfair to me,

Leaving me like this....

You have declared that You will question me,

Who will question You?

With all Your unjust ways,

In our troubles, You don't participate.

You call it mercy?

What does mercy mean in Your dictionary?

Why haven't You specified the terms and conditions,

It's heavy on my soul,

The effort to come close to You.

How could You abandon me like this?

What about the hopes I had ?

So You just left me in pieces.

No one will question You,

Is this why You don't interfere?

You have created the project earth,

How come You don't bother.

You have left all matters to the end.

So the responsibility of my action's on me,

I'll do whatever seems fitting then.

How can I alone follow Your lead

When the whole world's upside down.

You think, I alone can fix this?

Have I got such blood in my veins?

Am I healthy?

Can I walk miles alone without fainting?

Can I run without panting?

Are my breaths easy and even?

I inhale, exhale, with no difficulty?

If I can't, 

What makes You think 

I can change it all alone.

If I can't, who else will?

 

Cycles of Grief

Life has a way of testing us, sometimes in cycles, sometimes in storms that seem to have no end. For years, I have faced these patterns—moments of despair followed by brief glimpses of hope. But this time, the storm lingers, and the darkness feels unyielding. Despite my best efforts to heal, I find myself trapped in a web of relentless struggles.

In this poem, I’ve poured out the raw emotions of living through this unending cycle—grief, exhaustion, and a faint ember of defiance. It’s a reflection of my journey, my pain, and the fragile hope that persists even when faith falters.

Here’s "Cycles of Grief"—a piece from my heart, for anyone who has ever felt trapped in the cycles of suffering.

Alone again, in this house of shadows,

Five years stretch like a river of sorrow.

I mapped the patterns of my despair,

Each cycle a storm, the air too heavy to bear.

Two years of pain, then a flicker of grace,

An unseen force pulling me from the abyss.

But now the wheel has halted its spin—

No light, no peace, only battles within.

I am prey to unseen pests, relentless, sly,

Feasting on my body, while my soul runs dry.

I’ve tried every cure, every desperate art,

Yet they linger, burrowed deep in my heart.

I thought I knew how this would unfold—

Suffering, then reprieve, as the universe foretold.

But the sky holds no promise, the stars stay still,

Every prayer I whisper bends to another's will.

My body bends too, frail as a leaf,

While my soul aches beneath this endless grief.

The faith I clung to now splinters, weak,

The words of hope, too bitter to speak.

And yet, there’s a rebellion within—

A defiance that flickers, refusing to dim.

If the universe watches, let it see:

This battered soul will not bow easily.

For even in decay, life clings fast,

And a broken spirit can outlast.

Perhaps, in this abyss, I plant a seed—

A quiet prayer that the universe will heed.

Mask Off

Tell me this—

What happens to a soul like mine?

Where “real” isn’t a performance,

And emotions don’t wait for an invitation to show up?

I laugh, I frown, I burn bright with rage,

No filter, no edit—just me.

But the world? Oh, they love a good disguise.

They line up in masks—

“Topper,” “Professor,” “Sweetheart,” “Success”—

And they want me to pick one too.

Wear a smile, they say,

And make it believable.

(But my face doesn’t do pretend.)

Because I’m living in a world

That loves the fake—it’s easier to digest.

My anger? Too bitter.

My truths? Too sharp.

My fight for justice?

“Relax,” they tell me, “why can’t you just chill?”

So I try.

I try being soft.

Fake sweet.

Soft as syrup, dripping compliments I don’t mean.

And guess what?

Suddenly, they’re listening.

Suddenly, I’m “nice.”

Suddenly, I’m invited to the party—

A puppet in their masked ball.

But when I rip it off?

When I say, “Enough!”

When I scream for the innocent,

For the truth, for the ones who suffer?

Crickets.

Empty chairs.

Eyes that look through me.

And here’s the twist—

It’s lonely being real.

It’s heavy being the one who refuses to pretend.

But you know what’s heavier?

Living a lie.

So let them talk. Let them hide.

Let their masks give them fragile comfort.

Because the world needs someone like me,

Someone like you—

To keep showing up, raw and unfiltered.

One day, they’ll see.

When their masks crumble,

When their pretenses tire,

They’ll wish they had the courage to be—

What I already am.

So I ask you:

If the world loves its masks,

Will you still take yours off?

Reception Into Madness

Hey reader! Welcome back to Versebound. I am back with a new poem for you. Read on..

She walks like thunder, dressed to kill,

A striking goddess with iron will.

But beneath the glam, her world’s askew—

She’s breaking apart, and no one has a clue.

They call her spoiled, a luxury brat,

“She’s got it all, why’s she acting like that?”

Her screams are labeled as drama, excess,

While her soul’s unraveling, thread by thread.

The truth? She’s drowning behind the gloss,

Her nights are medicated, her mornings lost.

The scars they don’t see, she covers with care,

Concealer, perfume—her desperate flair.

Her teeth untouched, her hair undone,

Her body’s a battlefield, every war unsung.

Her glasses? “A fashion stunt,” they say—

Not the lens to a life fading away.

Her blogs, her cries, her desperate yells,

All bounce off the walls of judgmental hells.

Because pain, in their eyes, must be grotesque—

If you don’t look broken, you’re just a pest.

But here she stands, her silence loud,

A ticking bomb in the midst of a crowd.

Her madness is subtle, a stylish decay,

A queen on the edge, wasting away.

You see perfection? She feels despair.

Her beauty’s a mask, her heart laid bare.

And while the world adores her grace,

Her soul’s slipping to a darker place.

Reception into madness, bold and cruel,

Where screams go unheard in a world of fools.

10 Things I Want to Say to the People I Have Lost in My Life

Losing someone—whether through time, circumstances, or destiny—is a feeling that reshapes the heart. Yet, even in their absence, there are words left unspoken, moments unexpressed, and emotions bottled up. This post is my attempt to give voice to those feelings, a message to those I’ve lost but still carry within me.

1. I never wanted to lose you.

The thought of losing you was never a part of the plan. If life had given us more control, I would have held on tighter, longer.

2. My relationship with you was never fake.

Every word, every gesture, every shared laugh—it was all real. There was nothing superficial about the bond we shared.

3. I miss the golden moments together.

Memories of the laughter, the adventures, and the quiet moments of understanding stay with me. They remain golden, untouched by time.

4. It was important for our well-being to let you go.

Sometimes, love means making difficult decisions. Letting go of you wasn’t easy, but it was necessary—for you, for me, and for the paths we needed to walk separately.

5. Just because I let you go doesn’t mean I hate you.

There’s no bitterness, no resentment. Letting go was an act of acceptance, not anger.

6. There are certain situations beyond our control; certain situations are inevitable.

Life often places us in storms we cannot avoid. Some losses were simply out of our hands, no matter how much we wished to hold on.

7. I regret causing any harm.

If I ever hurt you, intentionally or not, I carry that regret deeply. I hope you know it was never my intention to cause you pain.

8. I wish I had appreciated you more.

Only in your absence have I realized the depth of your impact on my life. I wish I had shown you more gratitude when I had the chance.

9. It was an honor having you as a part of my life.

Whether our time together was brief or long, it was meaningful. You’ve left a mark on my soul that I will always cherish.

10. I pray that all the kindness you have given me, you find it multiplied in both the worlds.

Your kindness, your love—it echoes in my life even now. I hope wherever you are, you receive all the goodness you gave, tenfold.

Sometimes, writing to the people we’ve lost helps us heal. To those who read this and resonate, I hope it inspires you to reflect, write, or share your own words for the people you’ve lost. Healing begins when we embrace the memories and the lessons they leave behind.