How Allah Got Me Married!

From a Dua on ‘Arafa to a Wedding Day

Last year, something happened that changed my life in more ways than I expected.

Allah invited me to Hajj.

Even now, I struggle to describe what it felt like. Words fall flat. Hajj wasn’t a trip—it was a transformation. You arrive thinking you know what to expect. You leave wondering how you’ll ever go back to being the same person.

And then came ‘Arafa. The climax of the pilgrimage. The day of dua. The day the sky fills with angels, and Allah draws near. Standing near Jabal al-Rahmah—the Mountain of Mercy—I joined the ocean of hands raised in desperate, humble, hopeful dua. That place, that moment, felt like the veil between me and Allah had thinned. I had no script. I just poured whatever was in my heart.

I begged with everything I had. My voice cracked. My hands trembled. My eyes poured.

One of the duas I made caught me off guard. It slipped out from a place deep inside.

“Ya Allah, let me get married before 2025.”

Now let’s pause here. That might sound like a noble dua. But in reality? It felt like I was asking for a miracle. It was June. Half the year was already gone. I had no plans to travel to India, no active searching, no pressure from family. It was one of those duas you make, and then quietly think, “Okay, that was bold.”

But I believed in what the Prophet ﷺ said:

“The best of du’a is the du’a on the Day of ‘Arafa.”

خير الدعاء دعاء يوم عرفة

— [Tirmidhi, 3585]

So I asked, fully aware that I had no “plan,” no strategy. Just tawakkul and a mountain of hope.

After Hajj: Nothing Pointed to Marriage. Except the Dua.

I returned to Madinah to complete my studies with a respected Sheikh. We even discussed the topic of marriage, but there were no plans, no movement. I then flew to Egypt for a specific course—again, no intention of returning to India until the following year.

In fact, marriage wasn’t even on the periphery of my focus. Even though i was a proponent of early marriage, It was somewhere off-stage in my life, waiting for a script.

At this point, my life was basically: study, sleep, shawarma! Marriage? Not on the radar.

Then came The Call.

An Islamic organization from India invited me for a program. I gave my usual respectful “Jazakum Allahu khayran, I’m currently busy with studies.” End of story, right?

Wrong.

They called again. Then again. It got to the point where I thought they might show up in Cairo themselves to kidnap me. Most people accept a “no.” These folks treated it like a negotiation. Eventually, I gave in. I booked my ticket.

Still, marriage wasn’t anywhere in the plan. I was just going to do the program and bounce back for my studies.

Cairo: The Market, The Quran, and a Hint I Missed

Before leaving Egypt, I made one last visit to Khan al-Khalili—a bustling marketplace near Al-Azhar University. I was just looking for souvenirs and gifts for family when a vendor waved me over.

He showed me a beautifully wrapped Quran, with a prayer mat tied with a ribbon—something that looked like a wedding gift, honestly. I told him, “I don’t really need this. I don’t even have anyone to give it to.”

He smiled and said, “Buy it. It’ll benefit you. Deeply.”

It was one of those moments that feels small at the time, but later comes back like a puzzle piece falling into place. I bought it anyway and tucked it into my luggage, not knowing why.

India: A Proposal from Nowhere

I arrived in India. My schedule was packed—programs, da’wah, travel. Then, out of nowhere, came a marriage proposal from COJ through a friend.

I didn’t know the family. The place was unfamiliar. There was no pressure. In any other situation, I might’ve simply thanked them and moved on like i had gotten used to at this point.

But something about it was different. It felt like I was being drawn to it—not by logic or emotion—but by something else entirely.

And from that point on, everything unfolded effortlessly.

Clarity and calm. A quiet knowing.

On November 14, Six weeks before 2025, I got married.

The Power of a Sincere Dua

Looking back, it wasn’t the conversations or connections that made it happen. It wasn’t any planning or strategy. It wasn’t even in motion before I made the dua.

It began on the Day of ‘Arafa. That’s where the seed was planted.

“When My servants ask you about Me, tell them: I am near. I respond to the call of the caller when he calls upon Me.”

وَإِذَا سَأَلَكَ عِبَادِى عَنِّى فَإِنِّى قَرِيبٌ ۖ أُجِيبُ دَعْوَةَ ٱلدَّاعِ إِذَا دَعَانِ

— [Surah al-Baqarah 2:186]

Sometimes we think change takes years. That you need to make things happen. But this was a quiet reminder: when Allah wills something for you, it moves faster than logic and smoother than you thought possible.

“Indeed, His command is only when He intends a thing that He says to it, ‘Be,’ and it is.”

إِنَّمَآ أَمْرُهُۥٓ إِذَآ أَرَادَ شَيْـًٔا أَن يَقُولَ لَهُۥ كُن فَيَكُونُ

— [Surah Yaseen 36:82]

If you’ve ever made a dua that felt too big, too unrealistic, or too far from where you are—don’t delete it from your heart. Make it anyway. Say it on ‘Arafa. Say it in sujood. Whisper it when no one’s around.

Allah doesn’t need time, resources, or introductions. He needs your sincerity.

I’m living proof that a dua whispered under the blazing sun of ‘Arafa can quietly write the next chapter of your life—without your knowledge, without your planning, and sometimes without any logic at all.

All you have to do is ask.