🕌 The Master Key Came Full Circle: My Journey Back to Islam Through the Back Door
By Shamsul Bahari
#PerjalananRohani #SufiPenang #CikguYusofAli #IslamDariPintuBelakang #ZenDanIslam #TheMasterKey #HijrahDalamDiri #SufiCafeChronicles #BackDoorIslam #NamaYangHidup
There’s an Astaka along Perak Road in Georgetown,
a simple, unpretentious eating spot that—at a glance—looks no different from any other.
But for me, and a few other misfits of the soul, it became something sacred.
It became our suluk café, our corner of the universe where the questions were louder than the answers, and the tea was always just strong enough to hold the weight of silence.
🍵 Midnight Discussions with a Hidden Master
It was here that I found myself many a night, often until the first light of Subuh crept through the drains—
in the presence of Cikgu Yusof Ali,
a childhood friend turned mentor,
a man who was too wild for the orthodoxy and too real for polite society.
He wasn’t easily understood—
and was often quietly frowned upon by those whose Islam came wrapped in ritual but dry of inner fire.
But for me, he opened the real gate.
The inner Islam.
The one my soul had been searching for while sitting in Zendo halls, marching through dream-fields in India, or repeating mantras in solitude.
He saw my mess.
He saw my Zen.
He saw the tears I never spoke of—over a wife fading in illness, over children oceans away.
And he simply said,
“Come. Sit.”
📖 The Master Key and the Circle of Destiny
One night, he mentioned a book he once treasured:
“The Master Key”, he said.
But it had been lost—loaned to someone long ago and never returned.
I froze.
That book… the very same…It
was in my bag when I left for America years before.
It had passed through many hands, but ended up in mine.
And here I was, returning to the man who once held it.
What is this if not Takdir?
What is this if not the unseen thread of divine orchestration?
He smiled when I told him.
And with a half-laugh, half-knowing sigh, he said it was appropriate.
The Master Key had returned to its source.
And so had I.
🚪 Entering Through the Back Door
You see, I once had a dream where I was walking through vast fields in India,
chanting the OM as it pulsed like a dynamo in my chest.
I didn't know then what it meant,
but I was told later by the dream itself
that I would come into Islam—not through the front gates—but through the back door.
Not through rigid schooling.
Not through ritual mimicry.
But through burning, through loss, through questions that never stopped eating at me.
Cikgu Yusof didn’t judge me for that.
He welcomed it.
“Islam,” he said,
“is not a show for neighbors. It is the flame that consumes all falsehood inside you.
If you must enter from the back, then do so—
for it is better to come in with truth than to stand at the front faking it.”
🌕 Those Nights Still Live in Me
There were others too—strange, fierce-hearted seekers like me—who would gather.
We were whispered about in the musolla.
But I knew then, and I know now:
Those nights at the Astaka were more real than a thousand sermons.
They were where I returned to my Islam, not as inheritance,
but as discovery.
I walked back into my faith through a path of paradox.
And I found the door still open.
🤲🏼 For Those Who Enter Quietly, Know This…
If you feel you do not belong in the formal image of a "good Muslim"—
if you come with tears, with doubts, with stories soaked in other paths—
You are not alone.
Allah opens many doors.
And He welcomes those who enter, even from the alley.
So long as you come with sincerity.
“The mosque is not only for the pure—
it is for the broken-hearted,
for the wanderer who has walked too far from home,
and now seeks the Beloved through the cracks of their own story.”
Alhamdulillah.
I now carry that Master Key within me.
Cikgu Yusof has passed it on—not just the book, but the real key:
Admit your emptiness. Embrace your longing. Enter anyway.
🤲🏼 For Those Who Enter Quietly, Know This…
If you feel you do not belong in the formal image of a "good Muslim"—
If you come with tears, with doubts, with stories soaked in other paths—
You are not alone.
Allah opens many doors.
And He welcomes those who enter, even from the alley.
So long as you come with sincerity.
“The mosque is not only for the pure—
it is for the broken-hearted,
for the wanderer who has walked too far from home,
and now seeks the Beloved through the cracks of their own story.”
🌹 With Deepest Love and Gratitude
This post is dedicated to my mentors in spirituality:
Cikgu Yusof Ali (Mawa) and Pak Lah.
Men who walked this Earth with hearts turned toward the Divine,
and who shared their light quietly, freely,
With those of us still fumbling in the dark.
May Allah elevate their ranks among the awliya’.
May their legacies live on in those they touched,
and in the prayers of all who read these words.
Alhamdulillah.
Ya Hayyu, Ya Qayyum.
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