The next few days established a rhythm that felt both completely foreign to Zara's previous experience and oddly natural, as if she were remembering something she had once known but forgotten. While Daniyal used his technical skills and local contacts to monitor the Circle's activities in Lahore, she began intensive study with Maulana sahib in the peaceful environment of the mosque.
They had moved to a safe house—a modest apartment owned by one of the mosque's trustees—where they could work without fear of immediate discovery. The space was simple but functional, with good lighting for reading and enough room to spread out manuscripts and research materials.
"Your grandmother's approach was unique among Islamic scholars of her generation," Maulana sahib explained as they sat surrounded by books and notebooks on their first morning of formal study. "She understood that modern people need to verify spiritual principles through their own experience, not simply accept them on the basis of traditional authority."
He opened one of her grandmother's notebooks to a section titled "The Practice of Presence"—a detailed description of meditation methods that combined classical Sufi techniques with insights from contemporary psychology and neuroscience.
"Traditional Islamic spirituality includes what we call muraqaba—a form of meditation that leads to direct spiritual experience and deeper consciousness of divine reality. Your grandmother developed a methodology that makes these practices accessible to people from any cultural background while preserving their essential effectiveness."
For the next hour, Maulana sahib guided Zara through a breathing and awareness practice that was designed to cultivate what he called "conscious presence"—the ability to maintain awareness of both ordinary reality and spiritual dimensions simultaneously.
At first, Zara felt nothing except her own restlessness and the strange awkwardness of trying to meditate in a way that was completely unfamiliar to her secular background. Her mind wandered constantly—to work projects she had left unfinished in Toronto, to concerns about her safety in Pakistan, to doubts about whether she was capable of the responsibility she was accepting.
But gradually, something began to shift. Her breathing became more natural and relaxed. The tension in her shoulders and neck started to ease. Most remarkably, her mind began to settle into a state of calm alertness that she had never experienced before.
"I feel... different," she said when they concluded the practice. "More centered somehow. Like I was scattered before and now I'm more... gathered together."
"That's the beginning," Maulana sahib smiled with the satisfaction of a teacher watching a student take their first successful steps. "Your grandmother used to say that authentic spirituality isn't about dramatic visions or mystical experiences, though those may occur. It's about the gradual transformation of consciousness from ego-centeredness to what she called 'divine-centeredness'—organizing your awareness and actions around spiritual principles rather than merely personal desires."
Daniyal, who had been working on his laptop while they practiced, monitoring social media and news sources for any sign of Circle activity, suddenly looked up with concern.
"We have a problem," he announced, turning his screen so they could see what he had discovered. "The Circle isn't just looking for us here in Pakistan. They're launching what appears to be a coordinated international effort to acquire or suppress similar manuscripts and research."
The screen displayed a network analysis he had created by tracking online chatter about Islamic manuscript sales, academic conference cancellations, and unusual activity around major libraries with Islamic collections. The pattern was clear and disturbing—simultaneous activities in London, Cairo, Istanbul, Damascus, and several other cities suggested a well-funded and coordinated campaign.
"They're not just trying to prevent your grandmother's work from spreading," he continued. "They're attempting to systematically control access to the entire tradition of authentic Islamic mysticism."
Maulana sahib studied the data with growing alarm. "This is more extensive than we realized. They're not just suppressing individual scholars or specific texts—they're trying to create a monopoly on traditional Islamic spirituality itself."
"But how is that even possible?" Zara asked. "How can a small organization have so much international reach and influence?"
"They're not small," Maulana sahib replied grimly, pulling out a folder of materials that Zara hadn't seen before. "The Circle of Guidance has connections to government agencies, wealthy foundations, and religious institutions in multiple countries. They present themselves as defenders of orthodox Islamic scholarship, but their real agenda is consolidating spiritual authority under their control."
The folder contained documentation that was both impressive and troubling in its scope. Bank records suggesting substantial funding from sources that preferred to remain anonymous. Correspondence between Circle members and officials in various Islamic institutions. Academic papers that had been suppressed or altered to remove references to direct spiritual experience or individual spiritual authority.
"The people who fear your grandmother's work understand something that most academics miss," Daniyal explained. "These aren't just historical curiosities or theoretical discussions. These are practical methods that actually work to develop people's spiritual capacities. And people with developed spiritual capacities are much harder to manipulate or control."
"So this is really about power," Zara said, beginning to grasp the full implications of what they were dealing with.
"Exactly. Religious authority, political influence, economic control—they all depend on keeping people in states of spiritual dependence and confusion. When people can access authentic divine guidance directly, it threatens every system that profits from spiritual manipulation."
That evening, as Zara continued her study of her grandmother's synthesis of traditional and modern approaches to spiritual development, she began to experience what could only be described as a gradual awakening of capacities she hadn't known she possessed.
The meditation practice wasn't just making her calmer—it was actually changing how she perceived herself and the world around her. Colors seemed more vivid, sounds were clearer, and she was becoming aware of subtle dimensions of experience that she had never noticed before.
"Is this normal?" she asked Maulana sahib as they shared their simple evening meal. "These changes in how I experience things?"
"Completely normal," he assured her. "Your grandmother used to describe it as 'learning to see with the eyes of the heart as well as the eyes of the head.' Spiritual development doesn't add something foreign to your nature—it removes the barriers that prevent you from experiencing what was always available to you."
"The Quran mentions this," Daniyal added. "It talks about 'furqan'—the criterion that allows sincere seekers to distinguish between truth and falsehood, not just intellectually but through direct spiritual insight."
As they talked, Zara realized that what she was learning challenged many of her assumptions about religion and spirituality that she had developed growing up as a cultural Muslim in Canada. Her previous understanding of Islam had been largely focused on rules, rituals, and cultural traditions. What her grandmother had preserved was something much more dynamic and personally transformative.
"This is completely different from how I was taught about Islam," she admitted.
"Most people aren't taught authentic Islam," Maulana sahib said with obvious sadness. "They're taught cultural interpretations, political ideologies, or rule-based systems that completely miss the essential point. Islam, at its core, is about surrender to Allah and the transformation that comes from aligning your individual will with divine guidance."
"Your grandmother discovered that the early Sufi masters developed remarkably sophisticated methods for achieving this alignment—methods that work as effectively today as they did centuries ago, if they're practiced with sincerity and proper understanding."
Over the following week, as Zara deepened her study and practice under Maulana sahib's patient guidance, she began to understand why the Circle of Guidance feared these teachings so intensely. They weren't just academic theories or philosophical concepts—they were practical technologies for human transformation that could genuinely change how people related to themselves, to others, and to the fundamental questions of existence.
And transformed people, she was beginning to realize, were much harder to control through fear, manipulation, or false promises of salvation that required dependence on human authorities.
"I'm starting to understand something," she told Daniyal one evening as they walked in the small garden behind their safe house. "This isn't really about preserving old books or historical research. It's about whether people will have access to the tools they need for genuine spiritual development."
"Exactly," he replied. "Your grandmother understood that in the modern world, authentic spiritual guidance has to be available independently of traditional institutional structures. Too many of those institutions have been compromised by political or economic interests."
"But she also understood that without proper guidance and community support, individual seekers can easily be misled or become lost in spiritual materialism—treating spiritual experiences as just another form of personal achievement."
"So what's the solution?"
"That," said Maulana sahib, joining them in the garden, "is exactly what your grandmother spent the last decades of her life working to create. And it's what you're going to help us implement."