A few days ago, one of the two cars I own was stolen.
It wasn’t a fancy, high-end vehicle—just an old, yet reliable utility car we had recently refurbished with love and care. From engine overhaul to new tyres, AC repairs, a complete body makeover, and a fresh overall paint (shower)—we had poured our halal-earned money into bringing our halal-earned car back to life.
But no—it wasn’t insured.
Not because we forgot. But because we chose not to insure it.
I had insured my other sedan in the past, convincing myself it was a “necessary evil,” especially in a city like Karachi. But my son would often challenge me:
“You talk about following Deen, Mamma. Yet you insure your car? Aren’t that double standards?”
That stayed with me. So this time, we placed our trust solely in Allah—tawakkul in its purest form.
When the car was stolen, the panic was real. But so was the prayer.
We made sure the entire family prayed Salatul Hajat. I kept reciting Surah Yaseen, particularly this ayah:
“And We placed before them a barrier and behind them a barrier and covered them, so they do not see.”
(Surah Yaseen: 9)
After every salah, I read Ayat al-Kursi. And I spoke to Allah like a child speaks to a loving parent:
“Allah Mian, I want my car back—sahi salamat, ba hifazat. You can make miracles happen. No one else can.”
Because losing that car wasn’t just an inconvenience—it had serious implications. I knew if it didn’t return, my sons would push for a motorcycle—something I was completely against. Not just because of the insane Karachi traffic and the daily fatal accidents, but also because I’m a mother of three sons (ma sha Allah) and I feared their reckless riding more than anything.
Buying a new car wasn’t within our financial capacity. Getting one on lease was off the table—due to the involvement of Riba (interest).
Of course, we did what was required in the dunya too. We filed an FIR. Reached out to police contacts. But let’s be honest—how often are stolen cars recovered in Karachi? Dozens are lost every day. Most are never seen again.
And then—the day came—we got the call. The police had recovered our car.
No tracker. No insurance. And yet—it came back. Undamaged. Intact. Almost untouched.
A miracle. Plain and simple. I bowed down in sajda-e-shukr. Gratitude poured from every cell of my body.
“And whoever puts their trust in Allah—then He alone is sufficient for them.”
(Surah At-Talaq: 3)
My son didn’t say much. Just smiled. And in that smile was a silent message: Allah is enough.
This wasn’t just about a car—it was a reminder.
A moment that revived our imaan.
A reminder of the power of du’a.
Of hope, even when odds are low.
Of barakah in halal rizq.
And of Allah’s mercy, when you surrender to Him fully.
“Say: Nothing will ever befall us except what Allah has destined for us. He is our Protector. So, in Allah let the believers put their trust.”
(At-Tawbah: 51)
