Lives Of The Prophets

The boy in the cave

The cave was dark and hollow, simply unlivable. Perhaps a few streaks of light leaked in from the gaps in the boulders, but even that was not enough to offer the baby boy comfort. And perhaps his mother visited and fed him from time to time, as much as the watchful gazes of the soldiers would allow her. But how much could she really do, with the security tightening without relief?

There was no way for that boy to survive. He may have avoided being butchered, but this fate was not much kinder.

Anyone coming across his story would think that the baby would live no longer. But sometimes, we forget the most obvious of things.

He didn't have his mother, or anyone else to feed him, to help him survive. Not a single human. A little baby has no chance of survival without that, being so utterly helpless.

But when Allah writes life for some, writes sustenance, there is nothing in this world, or outside, that can stop it from reaching that person. All of us- mothers and fathers and caretakers- we are only a means of that. A means of providing someone the sustenance written for them.

And Allah is Lord that created the depths of the sea, and the heights of the seven skies- so vast that we can't imagine going beyond even the first one, or exploring it fully. Would that Lord really be in need of a means? To give the baby boy the life He had written for him?

Allah is the one that feeds even the ants buried deep within mountains, so how could He not feed a single boy?

I remember the story of a woman- much before the reign of the cruel Pharaoh- who tried to hide from Allah's anger inside a cave. I remember the story of a Djinn wanting to host a dinner for all that lived in the sea.

I remember that woman's miserable end. I remember that the creations in the sea went back hungry the day they were invited, because the dinner the djinn had provided- the one that should have been more than enough for all in the sea- was not enough to fully feed even a single fish. That fish was also hungry, saying that Allah fed her two such bites in a single day.

But these points in history are for another day. Let us return to when Allah commanded His Angel Jibrail (علیہ السلام) to go to that little boy with milk flowing in one of his fingers, and butter and honey in two others.

To when the little Musa opened his eyes to find an angel before him, unbelievably beautiful and ethereal.

The baby boy took the angel's fingers and sucked them, as infants usually do when they are hungry. And this is how he survived. This is how he grew up in that dark cave until he was an adult.

This is how he saw undeniable proof of Allah's existence, and felt His mercy and power firsthand. The belief of that boy should have been as obvious a fact as the color of the sky. But the devil was once the most devote worshipper, and knew more about Allah than many.

Knowing the truth doesn't always mean following it. That is the difference knowing and believing.