Hide and seek

Lombok Reflections

Hide and seek

The beaches of Lombok have a way of humbling you. They stretch endlessly, their patterns shifting with every tide, never the same twice.

One afternoon, as I walked along a wide plain of sand left behind by the retreating sea, I slowed my steps to take in the quiet. The air was heavy with salt and stillness. Only the distant rush of waves reminded me that the ocean was breathing somewhere beyond. The sand glistened, rippled in places, smooth in others, like a woven cloth of gold and silver.

Then, something caught my eye. The surface seemed to stir, though there was no wind and no wave. I looked closer, and only then did I notice it. A tiny crab. Translucent and pale, so perfectly camouflaged that it had all but disappeared into the grains beneath it. Its body shimmered faintly, its legs nearly invisible, as if it had been painted from the sand itself.

Had it not twitched at that exact moment, I would have passed by without knowing it was there. I crouched down and watched. It was fragile, defenseless in appearance, yet Allah had given it a shield greater than armour. Invisibility. Its survival lay not in force or strength, but in concealment. And in that stillness, I felt a lesson settling in my heart.

Allah reminds us:

“And of His signs is the creation of the heavens and the earth and whatever creatures He has dispersed throughout them. And He, for gathering them when He wills, is competent.”

(Ash-Shura 42:29).

That day, this little creature was one of those signs.

We live in an age where people fight to be seen, to be noticed, to gather praise. Yet here was a creation that survived precisely by not being seen.

And the Prophet ﷺ said:

“Verily, Allah does not look at your appearance or your wealth, but He looks at your hearts and your deeds.” (Muslim 2564).

The crab reminded me that what matters is not the gaze of people, but the gaze of Allah. Its worth is in fulfilling the purpose it was created for, not in being admired. And is that not also true for us?

I studied how it moved. It did not rush continuously, nor wander without purpose. Instead, it darted in short, careful bursts before freezing again, perfectly still, vanishing once more into the sand. Its strength lay in its restraint. And I thought of taqwa. Just as this crab lives by careful awareness of its surroundings, we are called to live with awareness of Allah.

Allah says:

“And whoever fears Allah, He will make for him a way out, and provide for him from where he does not expect. And whoever relies upon Allah, then He is sufficient for him.” (At-Talaq 65:2-3).

The crab trusts the tools Allah gave it. Its camouflage, its instinct, and does not go beyond them. For us, our shield is taqwa, and our survival lies in trust and reliance upon Him. Its silence also struck me. It made no noise, drew no attention, and yet its very quietness was its protection.

I remembered the words of the Prophet ﷺ:

“Whoever believes in Allah and the Last Day, let him speak good or remain silent.” (Bukhari 6018; Muslim 47).

The crab’s safety lay in its silence. And how often in our lives would silence save us from regret, from sin, from disputes? Sometimes silence is not weakness but strength and wisdom.

Watching it disappear and reappear reminded me of the hidden ones among the people of Paradise.

The Prophet ﷺ said:

“Shall I not tell you about the people of Paradise? Every weak and oppressed one. If he were to swear by Allah, Allah would fulfill it.” (Bukhari 4739; Muslim 2853).

These are not the ones celebrated by the world, not the famous or powerful, but the ones overlooked and unseen, whose sincerity was known only to Allah. In this tiny creature, blending quietly into the sand, I saw a reflection of their way.

As I stood again and walked further along the shore, I thought of how many times in life we feel invisible. Our struggles unnoticed, our sacrifices unseen, our patience unappreciated. Yet Allah sees. He sees the crab invisible against the sand. He hears the ant beneath the rock and the bird above the ocean. He sees the hidden tears that fall in solitude, the duah whispered in the stillness of the night, the good deed done when no one is watching.

“Indeed, Allah does not wrong the people at all, but it is the people who wrong themselves.” (Yunus 10:44).

The world tells us to fight for recognition, to carve our names in places where they will fade like footprints on the sand. But the crab whispered another truth. Safety is in stillness, honour is in sincerity, survival is in trust. We do not need to be seen by everyone. We only need to be seen by Him.

O Allah, grant us sincerity in all that we do, and protect us from seeking the praise of people.

O Allah, make our hidden deeds better than our public ones, and let our hearts be filled with light, humility, and remembrance of You. O Allah, cover our faults, forgive our sins, and grant us tranquility in this world, mercy in our graves, and eternal success in the Hereafter. Ameen.