A Boy Dancing to the Strings of Shaytan

Football used to trigger me quick. I was hot-blooded, rough and loved a battle.

The class troll made it his mission to mess with me. I don't even remember what he did, but I remember the red-hot rage boiling up.

So I rushed him.

And for a moment, I felt strong.

I expected to be looked at with admiration.

But when I looked around…

They weren’t cheering.

They weren’t relieved.

They looked at me with shame.

And I felt….humiliated.

Regret flooded me.

My coach wasn't even angry. Only disappointed.

That was my first taste of being puppeteered by Shaytan's whispers.

Years later, Shaytan's whispers came for me again.

This time, they came disguised as freedom.

In 2022, I disappeared for a summer.

I took a job as a travel chef and left everything behind.

For months, I did not own a mobile phone.

I had my backpack and tablet to read on.

I told myself I needed space. I told myself I was choosing peace. But the truth?

I was running.

From the embrace of family,

From the laughter of friends,

From the burden of being seen for what I was: weak.

I ran far. New towns. New kitchens. New crew.

I’m a light-hearted, playful guy, so I’d make friends fast.

Bond with the cooks and servers.

Cook. Laugh. Toast.

Then disappear.

It wasn’t the cities. It wasn’t the people.

It was me.

I was dragging the same wounds from place to place.

Dressing them up as “fresh starts.”

I remember being in Wolverhampton. They had the sickest staff who were blessed with me from minute one.

"I wouldn't mind staying here if you lot's accent wasn't so awful!"

They’d invite me to hang out before shifts. Offer a room instead of staying at my hotel. Explore the (dead) town.

And I’d always decline. Smiling on the outside and shrinking on the inside.

Because the truth is…

That year had already broken me in quiet ways.

I’d lost my job. And I was still haunted by the girl I ghosted —the one I once thought I’d marry.

I carried shame like armour — heavy, but familiar.

So, whenever someone came in with kindness, I stepped back with fear.

I called it peace. I called it healing.

But it was just a selfish escape—

wrapped in a beautiful lie.

And I hated myself for it.

That’s what Shaytan does.

The Qur'an speaks directly to this deception:

It's a chilling reminder that Shaytan doesn't just present sin; he makes it alluring.

He tells the angry boy that he’s a warrior.

He tells the avoidant man that he’s an introvert.

He tells the ghost that he’s merely protecting his peace.

And because it sounds like you, you listen.

The scholars say Shaytan seizes the son of Adam at two moments: anger and desire.

I’ve lost both.

I’ve let rage burn bridges and let lust steal my discipline.

But the scariest part?

None of it ever felt wrong in the moment.

It felt like relief. Like control. Like strength.

But strength is not disappearing. Strength does not vanish when things become difficult. Strength is not armour — it is restraint.

The Qur’an says:

That verse keeps me up at night because I did follow him, and I did it with my chest out, thinking I was wise.

Nah, I was just a coward.

There’s a narration in the tafsir of this verse that still haunts me.

A prophet was praying in solitude, seeking guidance from Allah.

And Shaytan came.

He sat between him and the Qiblah, silently trying to block his focus.

To come between him and his Lord.

The prophet whispered:

Once. Twice. Three times.

And then the enemy of Allah said something chilling:

Even he knew. Even he admitted:

You’re untouchable when you remember Allah.

Now and then, I find myself thinking about that boy again.

Not the troll. Me.

The one who felt yelling made him strong.

The one who felt silence equated to peace.

The one who felt that avoidance was a form of control.

And I forgive that scared young man.

But I never want to become him again.

Sometimes, I still hear the whisper:

“Leave. Disappear. Cut them off.”

And sometimes, it still sounds like safety.

But now I recognize it for what it is.

And I whisper back:

Because Shaytan doesn’t fear your strength.

He fears your sincerity to Allah.

Your Challenge:

Ask yourself honestly:
What part of your life have you been calling peace…
when it's really avoidance with a pretty name?

Sit with it.
Don’t run.
That’s the start of sincerity.

Another long one, but this is one of my favourite Juz in the Qur'an, so I indulged myself.

As you can tell by now, inner-self mastery is one of the pillars of my brand.

Patience. Gratitude.

Defeating anger and embracing love.

Join me in mastering them.

And becoming righteous, refined and rich gentlemen.

If you made it this far, thank you. Sincerely.

May Allah grant us sincerity and refuge from Shaytan.

Until the next one,

Hamza.