I grew up in a Muslim family and I think my exposure to religion was quite wholesome. I wasn't told to just do things because you have to just do them. Things were explained to me, whether it's respect for people, respect for the community, or whether it was prayers or fasting, it was explained to me and more than just, “Well, we’ve got to do it because we’re told we have to; that's what it says.” That was from my father, but the community experience of religion put me off Islam. That saying, ‘religion is the opium of the masses’, really struck a chord. And I went, ‘Oh yeah! It is! Can you just see these people? They just don't think outside of what they’ve been told to believe.’ And very early on, I went back home to Bangladesh and I saw these old Buddhist shrines, and I thought, ‘We weren't always Muslims. It's only because I was born in a Muslim family that I’m Muslim today.’ Spiritually I felt a little bit Buddhist as well and I felt ‘Hmmm, maybe I’m Buddhist’ in the way that Black Americans go back to Islam. I kind of related to that. But then I thought, ‘If I get into this Buddhist thing, that's completely dangerous territory within my community.’ Because if I were to convert or say I’m a Buddhist, I couldn't even say that my parents would disown me because I don't know what would happen. I just know it wouldn't be good. So I thought, ‘Ok! Before I go any further with this and wreak complete havoc, I need to explore where I’m at and who I am first.’

As a result I then started reading about Islam. I just wanted to explore it. I just felt like, if I’m going to do something else, I need to know and have my arguments ready so that was really my angle. I needed to be clear not just for the community but for myself as well. I didn't want to be a spiritual tourist throughout my life. And I thought, I’ll start with Islam, then I’ll go to Buddhism, then I’ll go to Christianity, and I thought I’d go through the lot.