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I was 7-years-old when I locked myself in my bedroom to practice pronouncing "Allah" correctly.
You see, my classmates in agama class had made a mockery of the way I pronounced "Al-lah,” which they claimed sounded "Hindu."
Their comments stung, not because of the words themselves, but because they cut to the core of my identity.
“Kau ni Hindu ka Melayu? Allah pun tak reti sebut?” they’d sneer.
I didn’t know how to respond to them. I often felt out of place in my agama class where I felt I was constantly demanded to prove who I was.
To my classmates, my mispronunciation was more than a mistake - it was evidence of something lacking in me, something not quite right.
That is why at a tender age of 7, I stood in front of the mirror, day after day, trying to make my tongue form the sounds the way they said I should.
“Allah. Allah. Al-lah. Alll-lah,” I would repeat over and over, like some kind of mantra that would open the door to acceptance, both from my classmates and, more importantly, from God Himself.
It was no longer just about fitting in—it was about being worthy.
“It should come from within, not from your mouth,” one of the girls from my agama class had told me. Her tone suggested that her understanding of Islam was somehow more profound than mine.
I remember looking at her, wondering what she was talking about. I could not fathom what "from within" even meant.
But most of all, I struggled to understand how could something as simple as a name feel so inaccessible?
“Alll-lah. Alll-lah,” I practiced relentlessly, my small body straining as if the right sound could fix everything that felt broken. But the more I tried, the more frustrated I became.
It made me frustrated. Wasn't faith supposed to bring you closer to God? How could I get close if I couldn’t even say His name right?
Would He love me less because of this?
It made me feel like I was failing, not just in speech but in something much deeper.
As I grew older, the weight of those early experiences stayed with me.
From mispronunciation to true connection
More than 40 years have passed, and even now, I still don’t think I pronounce His name the way they insisted I should.
But I am grateful, for time has given me perspective, and with it, a sense of peace I didn’t have back then. I’ve come to realise that my connection to God isn’t tied to perfect articulation.
It doesn’t matter if I say “Allah” with the "right" intonation, or if I call Him “God,” “Tuhan,” or even “Kadavul.”
The truth is, God is bigger than language, bigger than the boundaries we place around Him.
Where once I felt lacking, I now feel assured that He hears me just fine. He always has, even when I was seven, locked away in my room, struggling to say His name.
What I thought was a flaw in my faith was really a lesson in understanding—understanding that He listens to the heart, not the pronunciation.
And in that understanding, I have found a comfort that no amount of recitals, rituals or even prayers performed could ever match the pure connection of the heart.
I now believe God listens to my heart and my thoughts. And no one else can convince me otherwise.
Fa Abdul is a content creator under the Newswav Creator programme, where you get to express yourself, be a citizen journalist, and at the same time monetize your content & reach millions of users on Newswav. Log in to creator.newswav.com and become a Newswav Creator now!
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