In my fourth year of university, which started in September 1997, I lived in a rundown part of East London, above a furniture shop on Upton Lane, next door to a mosque.

Because of the location and the predominantly Muslim neighbourhood, as well as the diverse backgrounds of my flatmates and their friends, a variety of Muslims would pass through for occasional stays. The flat was often unkempt, but it was always lively, full of intriguing characters with different approaches to life and faith.

One such character was a man named Ibrahim, though I might be wrong about his name. He was a white convert to Islam and, like many converts, had chosen to name himself after a prophet. It might have been Ibrahim or another prophetic figure, but what stood out to me wasn’t his name—it was his enthusiasm for Islam, though it often took on a literalist tone that I found concerning.

Ibrahim’s faith was sincere, but he seemed to interpret Islamic teachings in a very rigid way. One evening, he challenged my friend Yaseen, who lived with me. Yaseen was an almost-professional boxer, having been offered a chance to train under Frank Maloney’s boxing stable, though he ultimately didn’t have the commitment to attend regularly. Ibrahim confidently proclaimed that, through the strength of his faith, he could avoid Yaseen’s punches. Yaseen, ever the joker, was amused by this claim and agreed to the contest.

Ibrahim set himself, and Yaseen, with a grin, threw a punch. It wasn’t a hard one, but it was enough to knock Ibrahim’s glasses askew. Unfazed, Ibrahim muttered a prayer under his breath and asked Yaseen to try again. This time, Yaseen’s punch knocked off Ibrahim’s turban and again dislodged his glasses, possibly damaging them. The scene repeated a few more times, each punch harder than the last. Yaseen wasn’t holding back—his punches were audacious, surprising even me with their force.

It was clear he wasn’t just playing along for amusement. With each strike, Yaseen seemed to be sending a message, trying to break through Ibrahim’s rigid understanding of things. I, however, felt conflicted—on the one hand, I respected Ibrahim’s dedication, but on the other, his naivety troubled me. His literal approach to Islam seemed to be working against him, not for him. I’m not sure which prayer Ibrahim was making, but his expectation seemed to me way off the mark.

Ibrahim had very poor eyesight and relied heavily on his glasses. The next time we saw him was at Regent’s Park Mosque during Ramadan, where many gathered for the free iftar. When we approached him, it was clear he didn’t even recognise us, likely because he wasn’t wearing his glasses. Yaseen, ever curious, asked him why. Ibrahim muttered something about mustard seed curing all ailments, adding that he didn’t need his glasses anymore. He was shaking his head in wonder and praising Allah, yet the situation bordered on the ludicrous—it was obvious his eyesight hadn’t improved, and yet he clung to this misguided belief, seemingly oblivious to the reality in front of him.

I couldn’t help but feel that Ibrahim’s interpretation of this Islamic tradition—about the benefits of mustard seed—was causing more harm than good. It seemed to me that, instead of embracing the practical wisdom that Islam encourages, he was getting lost in a form of blind faith that hindered his ability to function effectively in the world.

I left that encounter feeling concerned for him, hoping that he would eventually find the guidance he needed to navigate his faith in a way that empowered him, rather than hindered him.

Note: Names have been changed to protect the identity of individuals mentioned.

After an incident in Tesco recently, when a man escalated a situation so rapidly and beyond the realm of normal behaviour or comprehension, it stirred me to wonder if people generally seem to be becoming more short-fused. The situation in Tesco also started me thinking about what I should do in such situations and how best to respond to them in the aftermath, and what responsibility I have as a citizen to make the area in which I work or live better and safer after I experience such incidents.

The incident in question started off mundanely enough. It was getting late at home and as we were winding down for the night my wife remembered that we didn’t have anything for breakfast in the morning and she wasn’t buying my promise that I would wake up early enough to pick up the groceries so that they will be available for when the kids wake up. And I didn’t blame her to be honest. Unlike the groceries I needed to buy, the sanctity of that type of promise had long since expired.

So I drove to Tesco, took the opportunity to fill my car with diesel (I know, I know, but I bought the car when diesel was the better type of car fuel before the scientists changed their mind, which they are perfectly entitled to do) and picked up the free range eggs, Weetabix and milk and waited patiently in line in the queue behind four other people. A man behind was becoming impatient and shouted out to a worker at Tesco who was stacking the shelves to man one of the spare tills. The staff member said that he is needs to stack the shelves and so can’t got to the till. The man behind me then shouted back that he wanted to speak to the manager and the staff member indicated towards the back of the store. The man behind me then walked off in the direction of the office at the back of the store.

So far, so mundane.

But then the customer in front of me noted that people seemed to be gathering in the forecourt of the store where the cars fill up with petrol. As I looked out of the window, I saw that there seemed to be a frantic air about the people gathered outside. The man in front then shouted to the lady cashier at the till that ‘he has a knife’ and then he also left the store. I stepped forward and looked down the aisle to the other end of the store where the office is and the man who had stormed off to the office was standing with his back to me, and with a knife in his right hand. He was standing tall over two staff members and speaking very agitatedly at them.

At this point I asked the lady at the till if she had called the police and she said no. I don’t know why I would have thought she would have already called the police since we had both found out about the knife are roughly the same time. But in any case, I then grabbed my mobile and rang the police. After the operator had put me through to them, I described the situation as it was happening. I got the impression that the police were interpreting the situation as a hostage situation.

Worryingly, the man then stopped threatening the staff and then simply re-joined the queue behind me whilst I was still on the phone to the police. Not too wisely I then said to the policewoman at the end of the line “he is behind me now, so I have to go”, with no attempt to codify that I was describing to the police the current situation.

Fortunately, he didn’t do or say anything to me, and I hurriedly paid at the till for my groceries, exited the store and got back to my car. The perpetrator of the threats to the staff walked out of the shop and past my car and away on to the main road. I would have taken a picture of the man from my phone but whilst I was in the car a police lady called me back. I explained the direction in which he went and for a little while we tried to track him down with me driving around whilst I was describing my route to the lady on the phone over speakerphone.

Unfortunately, this was to no avail and the guy seemed to have disappeared.

In a separate incident I experienced an unwarranted actual attempt at violence against me. This was a while ago, perhaps several months, and this separate incident occurred on a crowded tube train travelling westbound towards Holborn on the Central Line.

It was during rush hour and the train was typically packed with commuters and the bustle of passengers meant that I was squeezed against the door where another gentleman was stood. He was facing the door and stood with his back to me but he wasn’t concerned about who I was – his only concern seemed to be that I was being nudged slightly into him every time the train turned a bend or changed speed, or I was moved by the other commuters into him.

Eventually he got annoyed to the extent that he started swinging his elbow back quite violently to repel whoever it is being moved into him. Fortunately, despite his vigorous and repeated efforts, none of the swings landed. But they could have and had they hit a child in the face or someone in the ribs then they could have caused an injury. He was eliciting a definite intent to cause pain or injury.

But perhaps the incident that stirred me most and was the most direct occurrence of aggression that has caused me to think about issue of rising tensions recently is an incident that occurred to me recently as I walked to the shopping centre in Milton Keynes for lunch.

As I sauntered down the main footpath towards the get to Debenhams (so that I could walk through it and into the main Intu shopping centre), and whilst I was on the phone to my wife, I heard someone on a bike behind me ring his bell.

This is a normal occurrence in MK since the footpaths are quite wide and allow for both pedestrians and cyclists walk along the same route. I glanced to my left and noticed that there was plenty of space for the cyclist to get past, so I carried on walking in my lane. I didn’t want to do the obstruction dance with a cyclist. He could see where I was and so he can cycle around me, I thought. But then the bell rang again. And then the cyclist rode up to my left and started shouting and cursing. I shouted back to the effect of him being able to see me and me not having eyes on the back of my head.

This seemed to rankle him, and he got off his bike and got up close to me. He was taller me than me and puffed himself up and put his face right next to mine as he looked down at me. He was shouting incomprehensible gibberish interspersed with swearing. He was also flailing his arms about and allowing spit to fly from his mouth exaggeratedly. I believe the intention was to give me the impression that he was a bit of a loose cannon and that I should be wary of him. I decided to refrain from saying anything. There was no need at this point. It is doubtful that any fact-checked statement that I made about me not having any eyes on the back of my head would have met with rational consideration and approval from him.

I suppose the key thing here, as with all the other aggressive situations that I have found myself in, is that there is no point in aggravating the situation and causing the level of tension to escalate. It is not a time for intellectual discourse and any attempt to do so could only be perceived as further provocation.

If I think about what could be behind the increase in violence, aggression and open hostility that is being perceived then many thoughts come to mind.

The first is, of course, that violence may be like sex. That is, every generation believes that it is the first to discover it. But I think that any scholarly investigation will always re-surface the same mantra about the reporting of violence increasing as opposed to actual violence going up. But the statistics showing the number of children carrying knives and the increase in the actual number of deaths from stabbings is hard to argue with. To add to this, a brief discussion with friends and colleagues will result in the sharing of many and similar anecdotal stories.

Over this last weekend alone somebody died a few hundred metres from my home after situation escalated at a party. In this incident another person was also stabbed but thankfully he will survive. The deceased 24-year-old managed to make it to Ilford Lane where he succumbed to his injuries. Goodness knows why he didn’t go to get medical help instead. I can’t imagine what his family must be going through having to deal with the death of such a young man in their family under such violent and futile circumstances.

Lots of factors are mentioned to explain this rise in crime and the perceived increased aggression. Some argue that violent scenes and language in music and movies provides the mood music and creates an environment within which an aggressive mindset can flourish. The counterargument being that media and art merely reflects what is going in society and where people are at. One can’t help thinking though that portraying violence does nothing to challenge prevailing violent or aggressive mindsets.

It is ironic that the movie Blue Story that seeks to describe how young people can fall into a never-ending cycle of competitive violence itself became the centre of violence at various screenings, with “25 significant incidents” at sixteen Vue cinemas across the country on the day that it was released before Vue decided not to screen the movie.

Personally, I think the main takeaway is that when in a situation that has the potential to be aggressive the best thing to do is not to escalate the situation. But whilst in the situation also be mindful that I may need to be providing information about the encounter to the police. Should an actual assault or other violent act occur then this information can be passed on to the police to help them track down the perpetrator.

If I had taken a picture of the man who threatened the staff in Tesco, then I have no doubt that the police would have been able to identify and apprehend the man relatively easily. I think that getting the police involved if a grievous act has occurred is vital if we are to keep the community within which we live free from violent offenders and people who control their aggression.

It was supposed to be a simple in-out operation that to was be stealth-like in its execution. I travel from London to Bradford in a swift commando manoeuvre. I attend the charity dinner, meet some key trustees, fulfil my commitments and head back to London without my parents or brothers knowing anything about it. This way, they would not feel aggrieved for me not visiting them despite having travelled to Yorkshire.

The train journey to Bradford was eventful enough. Bradford had been playing one of its adversaries at football and as I passed through Yorkshire supporters from both teams got on the train and into the same carriage as me. There was some light-hearted banter which became gradually more aggressive and eventually turned into vitriol and hatred after some Bradford supporters spotted a few young kids from the opposing team at whom they could express their dislike. Fortunately the situation was diffused when a Bradford supporter joined the kids and engaged with them in some friendly discussion and apologised on behalf of his fellow supporters.

Once I got to the hotel venue in Bradford I quickly initiated my frantic mingling mission. Other than a fellow trustee and some of the notable figures of the charity whose dinner I was attending I did not expect to meet too many familiar faces. But almost immediately a young lady shouted out my name. She knew my name and was asking if I was the son of my mum whom she knew by name.

Surprised as I was to find myself acknowledging that I was indeed who she thought I was, she told me that she was Saima. The name rang a bell. When we were little my parents used to send us to the home of a family of a man who we used to respectfully call Master sahib. He used to teach us Urdu because our parents felt it was essential for us to learn the language because my brothers and I spoke English exclusively amongst ourselves. My parents felt that we would lose some connection to our heritage if we didn’t learn Urdu.

Saima was the first of several people I would meet that I knew. I met Councillor Abid from Keighley who used to own a grocery store across our street when I was little. I met the brother of a guy called Azhar who was in the same year as me at school. Apparently Azhar now runs a restaurant in Keighley despite having graduated in Law.

I also introduced myself to a gentleman called Dr Akram Khan-Cheema OBE whose work in funding education for children in Pakistan I admired and whom I had befriended on Facebook and LinkedIn. Another lady that I met was a lady called Durdana Ansari OBE who also supported educational causes. She had worked for the BBC World Service for a good many years and when I met her she was wearing a Naval uniform because she had been appointed Honorary Lieutenant Commander with the Royal Navy. She would also go on to become a fellow trustee of the charity that I dedicate my time for.

After I left the event shortly before 10pm to begin the second leg of my stealth mission and rush back home to London I walked to Bradford Interchange to find that there was a strike on, and so local trains were not going to Leeds. I caught a cab from outside the station. The driver of the cab was a man called Mumtaz who had a bald head and white beard. He told me how he also knew the owner of the famous Mumtaz restaurant chain. He recalled how in the earlier days of the restaurant he used to go in and cook his own kebabs on their grills.

At Leeds station I frantically tried to get on to the scheduled train only to find that there were no trains travelling to London at that time and there never had been. I had misread the train schedule and the ten o’clock train left in the morning and not in the evening.

I rang my wife to let her know of the issues that I was having. She was resigned to the fact that this is the sort of situation that I always find myself in due to my lack of attention to detail in practical matters and she suggested that I look for a hotel nearby.

Feeling like Joseph before the birth of Christ I found myself travelling from inn to lodge to hostel to find that all the rooms were fully booked up. I did eventually get a glimmer of hope when I arrived at Roomzzz in Leeds city centre where, although they didn’t have any of their rooms available, a very nice lady called Jo was able to book me a room at a hotel in Harrogate which did seem a little far away to travel but seemed like the best hope of getting a room that night anywhere in the area. Jo also called me a taxi to take me to that hotel.

As it turned out, the reason for all the rooms being busy in the whole of that part of Yorkshire was that there were a couple of very famous comedians holding a concert and tens of thousands of people had travelled far and wide to see them perform.

The taxi arrived to take me to the hotel. I sat in the taxi and quietly let him depart to take me to my destination being careful not to start a discussion lest I lose my opportunity to get a little rest. En route, however, the hotel that I was travelling to called me to say that there had been a mistake. They had no rooms available and that the online booking system that was used to book my room in the hotel should not have allowed a reservation to be made. I asked the taxi driver to pull over and after a few minutes of heated discussion with the hotel representative I realised the futility of arguing further when they didn’t have any rooms available and couldn’t make any more appear no matter how much I protested.

I did some further ringing around and followed some suggestions from the taxi driver. After a while an American lady operator for a hotel booking website was able to book a room for me in a hotel in Doncaster. I asked the driver to take me to the hotel to Doncaster. On the way to Doncaster I had an informative chat with the driver. It turned out that he lived in Keighley and that he knew my dad. In fact, my dad had done some plumbing work at the driver’s home and fixed his boiler. Not only that but the driver had some kids who knew and played with one of my nephews.

At this point the driver suggested that he take me to my home in Keighley because he knew where my dad lived. I considered this but I declined partly because I knew I could catch a train from Doncaster which would take me directly to London and I already had a valid train ticket for the journey. But when we arrived at the hotel in Doncaster I was again told that they had been overbooked and I shouldn’t have been permitted to make a booking at the hotel.

By this time it was near midnight. I should have considered this fact as I called my mum. She picked up the phone and was in a panic because surely the only reason that I would ring at that time of the night was if there is something wrong. I quickly assured that everything was ok and that I need a place to stay and of course she was pleased for me come over. I asked the driver to drop me off at my parents’ home. I didn’t need to provide any other directions.

I had failed in the one of the objective of my mission but was very pleased to see my parents again.

She didn’t want to be here
Floating in the Mediterranean sea
Spitting out water struggling to breathe
Kicking frantically to stay afloat
So that she can raise her baby above the water

Any glimpse of hope extinguished from her future
Because she held different beliefs to blinded zealots
Zealots whose minds were closed to form a new people
A people who wash away the lives of their leaders’ enemies
Fearing their women as demons who breed imperfection

She didn’t want to be here
Floating in the Mediterranean sea
Spitting out water struggling to breathe
Kicking frantically to stay afloat
So that she can raise her baby above the water

The peace she knew as a child seemed so distant
The security of her country smashed by foreign armies
Her new leaders promised her safety
But were too weak and broken to protect her
As they helped themselves to new prosperity

She didn’t want to be here
Floating in the Mediterranean sea
Spitting out water struggling to breathe
Kicking frantically to stay afloat
So that she can raise her baby above the water

Maybe if she could reach the lands that sent the armies
That they might offer her sanctuary
But their newspapers print lies about her
Saying that her plight is not of their concern
That she has no right to desire a better life in their land

She didn’t want to be here
Floating in the Mediterranean sea
Spitting out water struggling to breathe
Kicking frantically to stay afloat
So that she can raise her baby above the water

As her mind fights with wave upon wave of despair
She recalls her government that did not protect her
The blinded fools that want to kill her
The prosperous people who don’t want to take her
Perhaps the sea will bring her to peace?

“If you set out to be liked, you would be prepared to compromise on anything at any time, and you would achieve nothing.” This is a famous quote attributed to Margaret Thatcher which alludes to the mindset of an individual who is able to single-mindedly exert an opinion and get things done in a particular way, regardless of what others think or the obstacles that they may put in her way.

In an ideological leader, as Margaret Thatcher was, this is certainly a very commendable attribute since it allows a person to make things happen on the basis of an ideological viewpoint without making compromises that dampen the effect of the initial idea.

In this light, the collective policies that Margaret Thatcher imposed, and that have been termed Thatcherism, could best be described as an attempt to implement a particular form of Capitalism without having to compromise to Socialists, trade unionists or indeed anybody else who happened to hold a differing view.

For this reason, a look at the policies that were implemented by Margaret Thatcher provides an insight into the effect of her view of Capitalism on society, and further illustrates the emphasis that Capitalism, when implemented discompassionately,  places on economic indicators for growth, and the few people that this benefits, at the expense of the effects on the whole of the population upon which it is imposed.

The example of Margaret Thatcher taking on the trade unions is perhaps the first thing that comes to mind when one thinks of Margaret Thatcher’s rule. The trade unions definitely needed to be reined in, since they exerted so much of an influence that they could easily stall production in factories and leave kids without schooling for days on end, but the more significant motive that made them targets for the full force of the ire of Margaret Thatcher was so as to remove them as obstacles that they were in the way of making the labour workforce a more fluid entity that could respond better to the whims of the financial markets and other economic pressures.

Key planks of this thinking were that it was a necessity to be able to get more productivity out of workers, reduce their entitlements and to make it easier to fire them when they were not needed. The resulting changes were initially mostly felt with the destruction of the large mining communities in the North of England, leaving many thousands of workers idle and unproductive and areas that once flourished with activity desolate.

The flipside to this was that where there was money to be made by the most profitable business sectors by those closest to the leading political party the path was greased to allow the financial accumulation to occur by removing such perceived unnecessary obfuscations as regulations, responsibility and common sense.

Whilst it is correctly argued that the current economic downturn in the United Kingdom is directly attributable, at least in part, to the financial deregulation that occurred during the Thatcher years, it is telling to note that it occurred with such ease and was largely unopposed. The odds are stacked against skilled industrial workers whose talents are suddenly deemed economically unfashionable and who will find it difficult to re-skill and find employment elsewhere but for those who had the ear of, and provided financial support to, the leading political elite it was much easier to get a concession or two in their favour.

The right-to-buy of council houses provided an opportunity for the aspirational to buy from the social housing stock. There is nothing wrong with being aspirational, but couple this with rabid individualism and material greed then the formula turns nasty; community spirit breaks down and the rich get richer at the expense of the poor. By the time of her resignation 28% of the children in Britain were considered to be living below the poverty line, this is despite Margaret Thatcher being credited with reviving the British economy (a revival which was greatly helped by windfall profits from North Sea oil and privatisations).

Regardless of the impression that people have of Margaret Thatcher as a person there is a unanimous conclusion that can be reached which is that in retrospect there are a few aspects of her tenure that can objectively be seen to be detrimental to the well-being of the needs of people. These aspects, such as financial deregulation, destruction of industrial communities and the elevation of individualism and material greed at the expense of societal cohesion, had a huge and lasting detrimental effect on large swathes of the British population.

Given the single-minded, materialistic ethos behind Thatcherism perhaps it is fitting that today she should be afforded a £10 million pound state funeral instead of allowing that money to go towards 322 nurses, 272 secondary school teachers, or 320 fire officers or some other utility that would benefit larger numbers of people and contribute more towards the well-being of society?

Like all Muslims, I want to contribute positively to the well-being of my family, the community within which I live (here in the United Kingdom), to the Muslim community all around the world and to the whole of humanity at large.

This may sound like a lofty opening claim of intent but when one considers the very least that this may entail then I think that one will recognise that this is not an outlandish, unattainable aim but something that can be achieved at least to some small extent with a little focus and effort.

For example, if a person were to make a phone call to an elderly neighbour to enquire about her health and ask if she needs anything then this action alone is making a real difference to a vulnerable person living in the area, regardless of any follow-up actions that may arise from it.

The challenge is to seek out and take on the tasks that are the best use of a person’s time, that allow a person to ensure that one is moving towards worthwhile aims in life whilst also fulfilling responsibilities to one’s family, to the community and to humanity whilst preserving some semblance of ethics and morality.

Defining what a person wants to be in life and what aims to reach for is a challenge in itself. To this end, I have set up this blog to hopefully help me to focus on what is important in life, to reflect on my achievements (or lack thereof) and on how to refine my thinking and my actions so that I may achieve what I decide is important and to not waste my time on distractions and trivialities.

This blog will be anonymous in nature. I feel that this anonymity will enable me to write more intimately about my progress and my challenges so that I can understand my thinking and actions better and in a deeper way.

I will be reading some books that I believe will help me on this journey and so you can expect reviews of books that I read as well as abridgements of sections of books that I find particularly interesting.

I am also a big fan of the productivity website ProductiveMuslim.com so expect my experiences of trying out the various bits of advice, worksheets and suggestions that are presented on that site.

I am presenting my thoughts and experiences in a public way, albeit anonymously, so that they might possibly be of benefit to others and allow me the prospect of crystallising my own thoughts. I look forward to being corrected and for my thinking to be refined in a public way such that all readers of this blog will benefit from any discussions that may arise.

Insha’Allah, I hope that this thinking, doing and writing process will be of benefit to the readers of this the posts on this website.