Have We Forgotten Our Roots?

 

As I sit here listening to Surah Al-Kahf, it takes me back to my childhood. I remember how our house used to be filled with the recitation of the Qur’an, especially during prayers. All the children would line up together to pray, sometimes without really understanding the depth of what we were doing, but it was simply part of our life. We grew up seeing prayer, hearing Qur’an, watching our parents and elders, and being part of that environment. It was not something that needed to be explained to us every day because we were constantly exposed to it. Looking back now, I sometimes wonder why it is not the same anymore. Is it because we have changed? Have we forgotten our roots? Or has our lifestyle changed so much that the environment in which children are growing up today is completely different from what we experienced?

And then I started wondering: has all this change really improved our children? I don't ask this question because I believe today's children are worse. In fact, I recently had the opportunity to give a speech to Hdh. Kulhudhufushi, Jalaludhdin School, A-Level and O-Level students, and I walked away feeling very hopeful about the generation we are raising. These are bright young minds, and they are the future of our country. I could see so much potential in each and every one of them. Every student had something different to offer. Some were confident, some were quiet, some were natural leaders, some were creative, and some were excellent observers. What really caught my attention, however, was their level of emotional intelligence. Their minds are still developing; they are still trying to understand themselves and the world around them, yet many of them already have a very strong understanding of how another person might feel. They notice emotions, they understand when someone is uncomfortable, they know that words can affect people, and they are much more willing to talk about emotions than perhaps our generation was.

But this is also where I believe one of the biggest clashes between generations is happening. Today's young people understand emotions, and they expect others to understand them too. They have grown up hearing about emotional intelligence, mental health, boundaries, self-worth, and communication. They are encouraged to express how they feel and to talk about what affects them. Our generation, on the other hand, grew up very differently. Many of us were taught to adjust, to tolerate, to stay quiet when an elder was upset, and to understand that sometimes life is simply difficult. We were not always asked how we felt. We learned to manage many things without having the vocabulary to explain them. So when a young person today says, "That hurt me," the older generation may think they are being too sensitive, while the young person may think, "Why can't you understand how I feel?" Neither side is necessarily completely wrong. They were simply raised in different environments.

Psychologically, this is important because emotional intelligence is not only about knowing what you feel. It is also about knowing what to do with what you feel. Being able to say that you are angry is one thing, but learning how to regulate that anger is another. Being able to say that someone hurt you is important, but understanding that the other person may not have intended to hurt you is also important. Having boundaries is healthy, but understanding that relationships also require compromise, responsibility, patience, and forgiveness is equally important. We cannot teach our children that every uncomfortable feeling means something is wrong. Sometimes discomfort is part of growth. Sometimes we need to have difficult conversations. Sometimes we need to hear things we don't like. Emotional intelligence should not create entitlement; it should create greater awareness of ourselves and greater compassion towards others.

This made me think about the role of the home. When I think about my childhood, I realize that our parents did not teach us everything through lectures. A lot of what we learned came simply from what we saw. We saw people praying. We heard Qur’an. We saw family members gathering. We saw how elders behaved. We learned how people treated one another. Children learn from what they repeatedly see much more than what we repeatedly tell them. We can tell a child to pray, but if they never see us prioritizing prayer, our words will have very little impact. We can tell children to respect others, but if they see us shouting and insulting people whenever we are angry, that is what they will learn. We can tell them to be kind, but if they constantly see people being judged, criticized and compared, they will learn that acceptance depends on how successful or useful someone is.

Maybe this is why listening to Surah Al-Kahf brought back so many memories for me. The Qur’an was not just something we read. It was part of the environment we grew up in. And when you look at Surah Al-Kahf, there are so many lessons that are relevant to young people. The story of the young people of the cave, the story of Musa and Khidr, the story of Dhul-Qarnayn, all teach us something about faith, knowledge, patience, leadership, trials, and how human beings respond when they do not understand what is happening around them. These are not simply stories that belong to the past. They speak about human behaviour, choices, relationships, patience and the challenges we face as human beings. Maybe this is what our children need today. They already have access to information. They can search almost anything within seconds. What they need is wisdom to understand that information. They need values to guide their choices. They need a sense of purpose.

The world our children are growing up in is also very different from the world we grew up in. A child today can wake up and immediately enter a world through a phone where they are exposed to different opinions, lifestyles, relationships, and expectations. They are constantly comparing themselves with other people. They see someone else's success, someone's perfect family, someone's perfect body, someone's perfect relationship, and sometimes they start believing that everyone else is living a better life. Their minds are still developing, yet they are being exposed to things that even adults struggle to process. Then we tell them to focus, be patient, stop using their phones, and communicate properly. But perhaps we need to ask ourselves whether we are actually teaching them the skills they need to survive in the environment we have created for them.

I also think we need to be careful when we talk about the younger generation. It is very easy for us to say that children today don't respect elders, they are too sensitive, they are always on their phones, or they don't know how to handle life. But what are we teaching them through our own behaviour? Can we apologize to our children when we are wrong? Can we listen to them without immediately judging them? Can we accept that they may see something differently from us? Can we talk about emotions without making them feel weak? Can we teach them discipline without humiliating them? Can we give them boundaries while still allowing them to have a voice? Sometimes we expect emotional intelligence from children while the adults around them are not demonstrating it themselves.

I don't think the answer is that we need to go completely back to the way things were. The past had many beautiful things that we should preserve, but it also had things that we need to improve. There were emotions that were never spoken about. There were problems that people simply carried in silence. There were children who were expected to obey without being given an explanation. So I don't think we should reject everything that has changed. Perhaps what we need is to take the best of our roots and combine it with what we have learned today. We can give our children faith without fear, discipline without humiliation, emotional intelligence without entitlement, freedom with responsibility, and confidence with humility.

When I think about those children I spoke to, I don't see a lost generation. I see potential. I see young people who are trying to understand themselves. I see young people who are more comfortable talking about emotions than we were. I see young people who are aware of how their actions affect others. But they still need guidance. They need parents, teachers, and adults who will not simply criticize them but help them understand how to use these qualities in the right way. They need us to teach them that having a voice does not mean having the right to hurt someone else. They need to know that their feelings matter, but so do the feelings of others. They need to understand that self-worth does not mean thinking you are better than everyone else. It means knowing your value while still respecting the value of another human being.

And perhaps the biggest thing we can give them is an environment where faith is lived rather than simply taught. A child who sees their parents stop everything for prayer learns something different from a child who is constantly told to pray. A child who sees Qur’an being recited in the home learns something different from a child who is only told to memorize it. A child who sees their parents forgive one another learns something different from a child who is constantly told to forgive. Our children are watching us, even when we don't realize they are watching.

Maybe when I say I miss my childhood, I am not simply missing the days when all the children lined up to pray together. I think I am missing the sense of togetherness that came with it. Everyone was part of something bigger than themselves. There was family, faith, routine, and a sense of belonging. And perhaps that is something our children need just as much today. They don't need perfect parents or perfect homes. They need homes where they feel they belong. They need homes where they can make mistakes and still know they are loved. They need homes where prayer is visible, where conversations happen, where people apologize, where family sits together and where the Qur’an is not simply something on a shelf but something that shapes the way people live.

So perhaps the question is not, "What is wrong with today's children?" Maybe we should ask ourselves, "What kind of environment are we creating for them?" Because one day these A-Level and O-Level students will become the parents, leaders, teachers, doctors, entrepreneurs and decision-makers of this country. They will shape the next generation. And I hope when that time comes, they carry both. I hope they have the emotional intelligence to understand people and the spiritual foundation to understand purpose. I hope they have the confidence to speak and the humility to listen. I hope they know how to set boundaries but also understand responsibility. I hope they can question things but also know when to submit to something greater than themselves.

Maybe we don't need to choose between the old generation and the new generation. Maybe we need to learn from both. Our children can teach us about emotional awareness, communication and things that our generation may not have spoken about enough. And we can teach them about patience, sacrifice, resilience, faith and the importance of staying connected to our roots. There is something beautiful that happens when generations stop trying to prove who is right and start trying to understand one another.

As I sit here listening to Surah Al-Kahf, I realize that perhaps what I am longing for is not simply my childhood. I am longing for that feeling of a home rooted in faith, where children grew up seeing Qur’an, prayer, family and love woven into everyday life. Maybe we haven't completely lost those roots. Maybe they are still there, waiting for us to return to them.

The world will continue to change. Our children will grow up differently from us. They will have different experiences, different challenges, and different ways of seeing the world. We cannot stop that, nor should we. But just like a tree, growth does not mean forgetting the roots. The branches can grow in different directions; they can reach higher and face stronger winds, but the strength of the tree still comes from what is underneath.

Perhaps our responsibility is not to make our children exactly like us. Perhaps our responsibility is to help them become better than us, while making sure they never forget where they came from.