Treasure Hunt in the Mosque -Abu Shahed

It was a peaceful evening at Masjid Al-Noor. The golden glow of the setting sun filtered through the high windows, casting long shadows on the cool marble floor. Inside, men stood shoulder to shoulder, lost in their prayer, their voices rising and falling in a soothing rhythm.

But in one corner of the mosque, a group of children were playing quietly, their giggles muffled by the thick carpets. Yusuf, Ayaan, Hamza, and their little sister Aisha often accompanied their fathers to the mosque for Maghrib prayer. They liked playing in the spacious prayer hall, pretending the grand pillars were fortresses and the chandeliers were glowing moons in a faraway sky.

“Today, let’s play treasure hunt!” Yusuf whispered excitedly.
“What treasure?” Aisha asked, her big eyes gleaming with curiosity.

“The hidden treasure of Masjid Al-Noor!” Yusuf declared dramatically, pointing at a large, wooden bookshelf near the back. “I heard Baba say this mosque is very old, hundreds of years old. Maybe there’s a secret hidden here!”

Ayaan’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “What if we find something no one has seen for ages?” he whispered.

The children tiptoed toward the bookshelf, their tiny hearts beating fast. The mosque was always peaceful, but at that moment, it felt like an ancient mystery was waiting to be uncovered.

Hamza ran his fingers along the spines of the old books stacked neatly on the shelf. Some were covered in dust, their pages filled with beautiful Arabic calligraphy. As he reached the bottom shelf, his hand brushed against something unusual.

“Wait,” he whispered. “This book doesn’t feel like the others.”

The others crowded around as Hamza carefully pulled out a small, leather-bound book. Its cover was dark and worn, but the golden letters still shone faintly: The Forgotten Journey.

“This book looks ancient!” Aisha breathed.

Yusuf opened the book slowly, and a yellowed piece of paper slipped out. It floated to the floor like a falling leaf. Ayaan picked it up, his hands shaking with excitement.

“It’s a map!” he gasped.

The map was hand-drawn, showing the layout of the mosque. But there was something unusual—there was a marking on one of the walls near the wudu (ablution) area.
“Could there be a hidden room?” Yusuf wondered aloud.

Before they could think twice, the children hurried towards the wudu area. Their footsteps were light, but their hearts pounded like drums. The mosque was silent except for the soft murmurs of prayer.

When they reached the marked spot on the map, they saw nothing but smooth marble walls.

“Maybe the map is wrong,” Aisha said, disappointed.

Hamza frowned and knocked on the wall. Thud. Thud. It sounded solid. But then, he knocked on another part—Thunk! The sound was different, hollow.

Ayaan’s eyes widened. “There’s something behind this wall!”

Yusuf ran his fingers over the marble until he felt a small, round indentation. “A button!” he whispered.

The children hesitated, exchanging glances. Then, with a deep breath, Yusuf pressed the button.

A soft click echoed through the hallway. And then, to their amazement, a section of the wall slid open, revealing a dark passage!
“SubhanAllah!” Aisha gasped, clutching Hamza’s sleeve.

The passage was narrow, with stone steps leading downward. Cool air rushed out, carrying the scent of old parchment and something mysterious.

“Should we go in?” Ayaan asked, his voice filled with both excitement and fear.

“Of course! This is the adventure of a lifetime!” Yusuf grinned, leading the way.

The children stepped inside cautiously. Their footsteps echoed in the hidden chamber. The walls were lined with ancient scrolls, and in the center, there was a small wooden chest.

“A treasure chest!” Aisha whispered, her voice barely containing her excitement.

Hamza knelt and carefully lifted the lid. Inside, they found old manuscripts, a golden ink bottle, and a beautifully decorated Quran with delicate gold and blue patterns on its cover.

“This must be centuries old!” Yusuf breathed.

Ayaan picked up a scroll and unrolled it. It was filled with Arabic writing, but it wasn’t just any writing—it was a letter.

“It says this place was built by a great scholar,” Ayaan translated slowly. “He left these books hidden so that future generations would find them and learn from them. He believed knowledge was the real treasure.”

The children looked at each other, their excitement growing into something deeper—respect and awe.

“We have to tell Imam Sahib,” Yusuf said firmly.

Carefully, they closed the chest and hurried back up the stairs. The moment they stepped out of the passage, the wall slid shut behind them, as if it had never been open.

They found the Imam, an elderly man with kind eyes, just as the prayer was finishing. When they told him what they had found, his face lit up with amazement.

“SubhanAllah! This is an incredible discovery,” he said. “You children have found something that has been lost for centuries.”

The next day, scholars and historians came to examine the hidden chamber. The news spread quickly, and soon, Masjid Al-Noor became famous not just for its beauty but for its hidden treasure of knowledge.

Yusuf, Ayaan, Hamza, and Aisha felt proud. They had uncovered a secret from the past, a secret that reminded everyone that the greatest treasure wasn’t gold or jewels—it was knowledge.

From that day on, whenever they came to the mosque, they didn’t just play. They read the books, learning about the great scholars who had come before them. And as they did, they knew one thing for sure.