On the Wings of Tawakkul: Everyone Has Their Own Flight

Peace be upon you, my dear ones!

Another day of my journey. A passport and a boarding pass in my hand, clouds outside the window — it is in moments like these that the words you carry inside finally line themselves up on paper. Today I want to share, gently and with love, a thought I have been holding for a long time.

I have seen it many times: a person goes abroad to study or to work, and then brings along a relative or an acquaintance — someone with no language, no craft, no thirst for knowledge, just a fondness for seeing new places. When that person lacks responsibility — comes late, oversleeps, invents an illness — the burden falls on the poor soul who brought him: scolded by managers for mistakes that were never his own.

I have never brought anyone in tow, and I have never followed anyone anywhere. Every single time I set out with my mother's prayer and with tawakkul — trust in Allah. Türkiye, the Emirates, Russia, even Europe — I went trusting people I had never met in my life, but leaning, above all, on the One who created me.

This thought stayed unwritten until a Kazakh brother's wry question stirred it today: "Why does everyone among you arrive with someone in tow? Where is one's own opinion, own path, own effort? They even enter a shop in pairs; a man past twenty cannot stay alone in a room..." Bitter words — yet there is truth in them: everyone must have their own standards and their own road.

There come seasons in life when you must place your trust in Allah — sometimes with money, sometimes with circumstance. Say there is a person before you who seems God-fearing; you have asked around as much as you could, and he appears to be someone who shuns the forbidden. Now, for the sake of your goal, you may need to stake $2,000–2,500 — perhaps everything you have, topped up with the wages yet to come — on a business, on knowledge, or on reaching the country that can raise your craft to its highest form. That step is taken not with a trembling hand, but with tawakkul.

And by trusting Allah with circumstance I mean this: do not set out with the fear of "Will there be an Uzbek near me? Who will meet me at the airport? What if I get lost?" — set out entrusting yourself to Allah. If there are no Uzbeks beside you, believe me, it can even be better: otherwise, the moment you struggle, you ask in your mother tongue, receive a ready answer — and the lesson turns to ash. Alone, the obligation to learn a new language begins, a new way of thinking, a new approach, and relentless growth.

I am not saying "do not help" — helping is both a duty and a blessing. I only wish to offer a small, loving criticism of the excessive fear and over-caution in our youth today. After all, each of us carries different dreams, different roads, different chances. To be honest, I myself do not yet have the knowledge, the ability, or the means to help those who have asked me — which is exactly why I believe we must all understand one another. If anyone who once sought my help finds these words heavy, may they not weigh on you: my love for you is boundless, and may Allah be pleased with you all. These words are addressed to all my Muslim Uzbek brothers — for this is the reality in every corner of our homeland.

Good night to you all! I entrust you to Allah. You are in my prayers — remember me in yours.