before anyone other than you—one of the people of this world—I would have thought I could escape his displeasure with some excuse, for I have been given eloquence. Yet, by Allah, I know that if today I were to tell you a lie that would make you pleased with me, Allah would soon make you angry with me; and if I tell you the truth, though you may be upset with me, I hope for Allah’s pardon. No, by Allah, I have no excuse, and by Allah I was never stronger nor in easier circumstances than on the day I stayed behind from you.”
The Messenger of Allah ﷺ said, “As for this man, he has spoken the truth. Rise and wait until Allah decides your case.” So I stood up, and some men of Banū Salimah hurried after me, saying, “By Allah, we have never known you to commit a sin before this. Could you not have offered the Messenger of Allah ﷺ the same excuse the others who stayed behind gave? It would have been enough for your sin that the Messenger of Allah ﷺ sought forgiveness for you.” By Allah, they kept blaming me until I considered returning to the Prophet to deny what I had said.
Then I asked, “Has anyone else been treated the same as I have?” They replied, “Yes, two men said exactly what you said, and they were told what you were told.” I asked, “Who are they?” They said, “Murārah ibn al-Rabīʿ al-ʿAmrī and Hilāl ibn Umayyah al-Wāqifī.” They named two righteous men who had fought at Badr—an example for me to follow—so I went on when they mentioned them.
The Messenger of Allah ﷺ then forbade anyone to speak to us three out of all those who had remained behind. People avoided us and their attitude toward us changed, until the earth itself felt strange to me, as though I no longer recognized it. We remained in that state for 50 nights.
My two companions grew weary and stayed in their homes, but I was the youngest and strongest of us. I would go out, join the congregational prayers with the Muslims, and walk through the markets, yet no one would speak to me. I would approach the Messenger of Allah ﷺ while he was sitting with the people after the prayer, greet him with salām, and wonder whether his lips moved in response. Then I would pray close to him and steal a glance at him; when I was absorbed in my prayer he would look at me, but when I turned toward him he would turn away.
When the estrangement of the Muslims had dragged on, I climbed over the wall of the orchard of Abū Qatādah—he was my cousin and the dearest of people to me. I greeted him with salām, but by Allah he did not answer. I said, “O Abu…"