The night was strangely silent. The moon hung in the sky, yet its light seemed afraid to descend upon the earth. A gentle breeze brushed past the minaret of the mosque, and with that breeze, a question seemed to drift in—

“Five daily prayers—where did their origin lie?”
Abdul Hakim, a seeker of knowledge, sat before an old wooden table. In front of him lay the open Holy Qur’an. The pages seemed to speak; the words seemed to awaken within the silence.
He was reading—
Surah An-Nur, Ayah 58.
The mention of Fajr and Isha.
Then Surah Hud, Ayah 114—
The two ends of the day and a portion of the night—Dhuhr, Asr, Maghrib.
Finally, Surah Al-Isra, Ayah 78—
Where, as if together, the complete outline of the five daily prayers emerged.
A strange radiance appeared in Hakim’s eyes. It felt as though someone had lit a lamp in the darkness.
He said softly—
“Then… this light was already in the Qur’an! So clear, so pure!”
But at that very moment, another scene floated into his mind—
The night of Mi'raj.
The Noble Prophet (peace be upon him) journeying through the heavens, beyond the boundaries of the stars, on a transcendent voyage.
There, the gift of prayer, and the advice of Prophet Musa (peace be upon him)—
Reduced from fifty to five.
Hakim’s brows furrowed.
“If the timings of prayer were already determined in the verses of the Qur’an,”—he thought—
“then was there still a need to wait after that light had come?
Or are we, even after seeing the light, busy searching for another?”
The wind seemed to suddenly stop.
The ticking of the clock hanging on the mosque wall echoed—
As if time itself was asking the question.
He looked again toward the Qur’an.
He read—
“Innahu la-Qur’anun Karim”—
Indeed, it is a Noble Qur’an. That is, the message of the Qur’an is absolute, indisputable, and not comparable or measurable against any other text. No word can stand above the word of Allah. In this verse, even the acceptance of anyone’s counsel over Allah’s word is negated.
Thus, the words of the Qur’an struck Abdul Hakim’s ears like a thunderbolt!
He whispered—
“If it is truly noble, then are we giving it its full due honor?”
It seemed to him—
Faith is like a river.
The Qur’an is its source—clear and pure.
And other narrations—like tributaries, sometimes merging with that source, sometimes drifting away.
Hakim lowered his head.
There were tears in his eyes.
But those were not tears of sorrow—
They were the thirst for truth.
Outside, the call to Fajr prayer echoed—
“Allahu Akbar… Allahu Akbar…”
He stood up.
It felt as though the answers to all questions might not lie in debate,
But in the silence of prostration.
Placing his head in sujood, he said only—
“O Allah,
Grant me the eyes to see truth as truth,
And the courage to follow it.”
This time, the moonlight did not hide.
It descended quietly—
Just as the light of the Qur’an descends into the heart,
If one truly seeks it.
A question arose in Abdul Hakim’s mind: those scholars who wish to establish the Qur’an in society—despite having the blazing message of the Qur’an in their hands—why do they set it aside and give precedence to the advice of Prophet Musa during Mi'raj?