Several students appeared at the door of the teachers’ room. They were talking quietly among themselves. Mete, with a very kind tone, asked a teacher who was about to enter the room, “Sir, excuse me, is Fatih Hodja here?”
The teacher answered with a sweet smile:
“Let me look.”
At that moment Fatih Hodja appeared at the door:
“Hi, what were you going to say?”
“Sir, can you please don’t call me Ahmet. My other name is Mete.”
The teacher was a little surprised:
“No problem at all. This is entirely your choice. Is there anything else?”
“No, sir, I came to tell you that.”
“If I have irritated you, please forgive me. I should have asked you which name you preferred.”
Fatih Hodja entered the teachers’ room. He was thoughtful.
A colleague of his asked:
“Fatih, is there a problem?”
“How shall I say it? My student Ahmet Mete… I used to call him Ahmet, but he prefers his other name, Mete. He felt uncomfortable that I called him Ahmet, and I felt sorry for that.”
“Mete is a hardworking and respectful student. He had good manners. I know his family. He will be okay, don’t worry.”
“I hope so.”
Fatih Hodja was still thinking about Mete when he left school. It was his first year of being a teacher. He was a teacher full of enthusiasm. He lived with the ideal of transmitting the truths he believed in to his students and considered this very important for the future. He was talking with his students about such topics even during the breaks.
Mete was a candidate to be the most successful student in the school at that time. He got high marks in all classes. One time, he missed a point in English, and he burst into sobs in class. Fatih Hodja tried to comfort him. Ahmet Mete was very quickly impressed by sensible words. Fatih Hodja said, “Look, Ahmet; I know how important this is for you. You are already a successful student. So you made a little mistake. I’m sure you’ll get a perfect grade again. Come on, wash your face. We’ll start again when you get here.’ After these words, he came to his senses and immediately made his way to the bathroom.
Fatih Hodja was thoughtful along the way. Why did he not want to use the name “Ahmet.” He was angry with himself. “How could I not have noticed? He uses the name Mete, and his friends call him Mete. Yet, I called him Ahmet. If he takes a stand against me now, he will perhaps take a stand against my lesson and the truths I tell. I cannot bear this responsibility. What a mistake I made in my early years! So why doesn’t this boy want to use the name Ahmet?”
Fatih Hodja entered the house exhausted. He tried to sleep, but was not able to. That voice kept ringing in his ears: “Sir, can you please don’t call me Ahmet.”
He stood up, had ablution and performed two units of prayer. Then he raised his hands in tears and addressed the Owner of the universe: “O my Lord, grant me to make my student and other students who do not want to use the name Ahmet, our Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, and the Qur’an love.”
Fatih Hodja began to call him Mete. In a short time, he also pleased him with compliments, but the difficult question in his mind continued to torment his soul: “Why doesn’t he want to use the name Ahmet?”
After four months, Fatih Hodja had a lesson in class 7A again. The topic was “The First Revelation.” He was talking about the last Prophet, about the Cave of Hira. He was talking about the Jibril, who conveyed the first revelation: “Read!” What an amazing event that was. The first verses were about reading, writing, pen, and creation. He was trying to observe all his students while he was telling these. He could see the light in his students’ eyes. He was especially impressed by Mete’s gaze.
When the lesson was over, the students were waiting quietly, as if saying, “Please sir, tell us more.” As if they had not heard the bell.
Fatih Hodja was in praise of God when he left the class. “I am glad if I have done a good thing for You.” he was saying.
The next day would be an important surprise for Fatih Hodja. He came to school in the morning. He has not yet entered the teachers’ room. Some students came across. Mete was among them. Fatih Hodja was worried. Was Mete going to say something negative again? One of the students said:
“Sir, Mete wants to talk to you.”
“Of course, I’m listening to you, Mete.”
Mete could not speak, and began to cry.
“Mete, what’s the problem? What’s happened? Calm down and tell me.”
Mete took a deep breath and talked:
“Sir, my name is Ahmet, my name is Ahmet! I’m Ahmed.”
“All right, Ahmet. Your name is already Ahmet, but can you tell me what happened?”
“Sir, what you told me in yesterday’s lesson impressed me a lot. All day long, I thought about those events. I dreamt about the Mountain of Light. There were gold pieces and diamonds in the size of pebbles from the slopes of the Mountain of Light to the Cave of Hira. The names of the Companions were written on all of them. I wanted to go to the Cave of Hira, but I couldn’t find a way out because I didn’t want to step on the stones. The light emanating from inside the cave illuminated the whole place, the whole world, the whole universe… I knew that our blessed Prophet was there. A voice said, “This is the light. This is his light.” I said, “I want to see him.” The voice replied: “No, you didn’t want to use his name.” “I’m very sorry, it was a mistake.’ I said, but again, “No, you’re not allowed.” I heard.
After a decade had gone by, Fatih Hodja was once again heading home after his lessons when his phone began to ring. It was an international call: “Sir, I am Ahmet. Do you remember? You know…”
