The Fultoli Tradition: The Madhab of Brick Lane

16 min readOct 23, 2023

Introduction

My father migrated to England in the 60s. He came from humble beginnings with very little to offer other than hard graft. As a practising Muslim, living in London and a longing for the homeland, he naturally became part of a like-minded first-generation community of British Bangladeshis. Bangladeshi migrants who settled in Britain are part of the wider migration of people from commonwealth countries following the second world war. Many brought with them a mixture of values including a sense of national and religious pride, which inevitably lead to the establishment of numerous mosques and educational institutions throughout the years. These institutions naturally became hubs for first-generation Bangladeshis in the UK to express and celebrate the traditions and culture they grew up with before migrating.

Accompanying my father to the mosque regularly, I naturally started interacting with elders and uncles of the community and watched their casual gossip and brotherhood. I remember they seemed to display an air of invincibility. It’s only now that I look back and appreciate the community they’ve built in an unfamiliar England and in the face of racism and economic struggles. They built mosques to recreate the only expression of Islam they were familiar with — a Sunni Islam which was Hanafi in madhab and Naqshabandi in Sufi Tradition, interwoven with regional heritage and pride — the Fultoli tradition.

Once established, these mosques became part of a network of institutions sympathetic to the Fultoli persuasion, and they would regularly host Fultoli Sahib (founder of the Fultoli tradition 1913–2008), his sons or various Fultoli ‘pirs’ (saints) to deliver ‘waz’ (a Bengali word, which loosely refers to talks which are Islamic in nature but can contain anecdotes and personal musings of the speaker which may drift from one topic to another) followed by a strong emphasis on fundraising to further the Fultoli cause, by way of donating to various Fultoli mosques, madrasas and orphanages in Bangladesh.

My dad never lost his love for the homeland and despite me being ‘born and bred’ in the UK, he wished to enlist within me the same love and affection for a ‘homeland’ I barely knew. During my early teens, he made plans for my education to continue in Sylhet Bangladesh through the madrasah system in Islamic studies. I was left in the country to readjust, grow accustomed to the local way of life, and put trust in an extended family I had never met before. Despite my father’s Fultoli orientation, he got me enrolled into two Deobandi orientated madrasas during my stay in Bangladesh. First, the well-known Jamia Tawakkulia Renga Madrasa in Sylhet where I began learning the Quran, Hadith and became familiar with the Urdu language. Second, was a small and not so well-known boarding school madrasa, also in Sylhet, dedicated to teaching foreign students in qiraat (Quran recitation) and hifdh (Quran memorisation). During my stay in Bangladesh, I noticed an intentional rift between the adherents of both traditions, the Deobandis and Fultolis. Deobandis were seen as a superior and purer Islam of the two traditions, and the Fultoli tradition appeared more relatable of the two to average Sylhetis, who were busy in their efforts to provide for the women and children under their care, and not so academically inclined. Fultolis were typically referred to as the people of ‘zuallin’ (deviants) by the Deobandis, a title we will revisit later in more detail. After about 2–3 years, my dad decided it was time for me to come back to the UK and resume, what I longed for, ‘a normal British life’.

However, upon my return, I saw England or the British way of life differently. Seeing how the ‘other half of the world’ lived I understood what it meant for my father to migrate to a land with a different language, custom, weather, and environment. It was no easy task.

Today we are facing an identity crisis as young Muslims who cannot entirely relate to our parent’s and grandparent’s brand of religious conviction and prior social struggles, and yet can feel alienated by British culture as well. Modernity has baffled older generations as they refuse to navigate and adapt anymore and feel that subsequent generations have lost their sense of pride and love for the homeland. Despite a number of big mosques like Brick Lane Jamme Masjid which are still strong advocates of the Fultoli tradition, the reverence for the tradition is basically nonexistent in recent third and fourth generation British Bengalis today. Furthermore, research efforts on this tradition which had flourished amongst first-generation British Bengalis is minimal.

In this article, my intention is to provide a relatable account of my interactions with the Fultoli tradition in Sylhet and London, how the tradition has impacted Muslims in Britain and how it may still shape the social interactions of Bengali Muslims in Britain. I also analyse the decline of the Fultoli tradition here in the UK, and how it compares to other seemingly declining Islamic traditions.

Before I go on any further on this matter, I’d like to point out that this is by no means a declaration of ruling. I cannot claim to have studied the religion in so much depth to discuss matters of sharia and what it means for Muslims living in the UK. There are good Muslims that I’m acquainted with that are far more senior to me in knowledge, age and experience that may very well correct me. And I am obligated to take on board the wisdom and guidance they offer. What I discuss before you now have been an interest of mine for some time. Growing up and being part of a community of Muslims living in the UK, naturally, has instilled care and concern for what lies ahead for us as a successive generation. What does it mean to be a Muslim living in Britain somewhat detached or completely removed from our ancestor’s homeland? How does our religion help us to navigate? Are we to make it up as we go along or is there something to help us navigate and teach the next generation? This discussion is predominately from a ‘social and mental wellbeing’ point of view, from what my experiences inform me, and I discuss what my concerns are about it.

I choose not to discuss matters of fiqh, aqeedah, and fatwa issuing. Evidently, these are not my fields.

Fultoli Sahib, his Theology & Followers

Shaykh Abdul Latif Choudhury Fultoli (also known by Fultoli Sahib, Sahib Qibla or Shamsul Ulama) was known as a sufi scholar and pir. He resided mainly in the city of Sylhet in Bangladesh but was known to have spent most of his latter profession travelling and giving Islamic lectures and waz to help raise funds for many of his charitable projects. A lot of what we know about him comes from two sources: short written biographical accounts. And oral accounts narrated by first-generation British Bengalis and from other followers of the tradition.[1] These oral accounts are mostly unchecked and often unverifiable, but one can imagine how this can help maintain an aura of mysticism as a pir held in high regard.

Fultoli Sahib saw it important to position himself centrally in the minds and hearts of his followers who are usually both religious and patriotic. Abdul Azim and Mansur Ali, in their paper; ‘In search of Sylhet — The Fultoli Tradition in Britain’ highlight how Fultoli Sahib sought to achieve this by associating himself in four key areas central to Islam in Bengal.

Origins of Islam in Bengal.
Islam in Mughal India.
His perceived divine mandate to teach.
And his Sufi lineage.

These are claims that are often yet to be proven but they don’t deter his followers as they tend to accept them at face value.

To third and fourth generation Bengali Muslims in Britain, who tend to be more inclined to a version of Islam that involves less cultural baggage and mysticism, the Fultoli tradition comes across as out of touch with the needs of the Bengali society in Britain. Fultoli Sahib dedicated much of his lectures and literature in defence of his teachings. His lectures tended to be filled with anecdotes, personal musings and would often get sidetracked leaving issues unfinished. This style of oration tends to find an audience amongst the first generation and maybe the second, as it resembles the type of Sylheti style conversation they’re used to. However, it finds itself alienating subsequent generations.

There are a number of key features of the Fultoli tradition that make it distinct from regional neighbouring traditions — the Deobandi and Barelwi traditions.

Emphasis on the ‘true’ status of the Prophet of Islam and the need to hold him in correct reverence to seek his intercession.
Regular congregational recitation of the salutation upon the Prophet (salam ala al Nabi) known as ‘Milad Sharif’ for which they have been charged with the accusation of innovation by other groups.[2]
And their insistence on the correct pronunciation of the Arabic letter ‘ض’ dhuad.

Followers of the Fultoli tradition tend to be at the very least acoustically trained to correct the imam if he mistakenly recites ‘wala zuallin’ instead of ‘wala dhallin’ (the final verse of al-Fatiha). Though the imam may mistakenly mispronounce other places of the Quran, this one (often innocent) mistake in Surah al-Fatiha can have an imam thrown off the Fultoli ‘manhaj’, since the correct meaning heavily depends on the accuracy of pronunciation. It is believed this is where the colloquial term ‘zuallin’ (deviant) has come from. Today the term is used in Bangladesh by Deobandis and Fultolis alike for any individual or group perceived to be of deviant nature.

Lastly, the Fultoli tradition avoids terms like ‘sunnah’ (prophetic tradition) and ‘bidah’ (innovation) and opts for more Quranic terms to distinguish an orthodox Muslim from a heretic. Fultoli Sahib would refer to an orthodox as both a ‘Muslim’ and a ‘Mu’min’ (faith Muslim), and a heretic as just a ‘Muslim’. Generally, Fultoli theology falls under Sunni Islam and there seems to be no reason so far to doubt that. For further reading on the origins and teachings of Fultoli thought I highly recommend reading: In search of Sylhet: The Fultoli Tradition in Britain by Abdul Azim Ahmed & Mansur Ali, which has informed many parts of this section.

[1] Abdul Azim Ahmed & Mansur Ali 2019, In search of Sylhet — The Fultoli Tradition in Britain, p. 3.

[2] https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I6iQGVCN6RU

The Madhab of Brick Lane

During the 1970s, Brick Lane saw a huge influx of immigration from Sylhet. Depending on their political and religious sympathies back home, many of these migrants would attend either East London Mosque or Brick Lane Jamme Masjid.[1] Brick Lane Jamme Masjid has a unique history amongst the mosques in Britain. It started life in 1743 as a Protestant chapel. In the late nineteenth century, it became Spitalfields Great Synagogue for Jewish refugees. Finally, by 1976, it was acquired and reopened to the public as Brick Lane Jamme Masjid.[2]

It is said that Brick Lane Jamme Masjid was established partly as a Fultoli reaction to the ‘reformist’ East London Mosque which was located no more than a fifteen-minute walk from Brick Lane.[3] East London Mosque largely remains a non-denominational Sunni Mosque, which seeks to cater for its diverse demo-graph that attend its halls.

David Garbin writes about Brick Lane Jamme Masjid, he mentions that the mosque’s beliefs and practices are influenced by syncretic Barelwi tradition.[4] However, this presumption is wrong. From a glance, Barelwis and Fultolis can seem like one another, but there are enough differences between them to consider the two traditions distinct from one another. I will revisit this topic later. Brick Lane Jamme Masjid remains devoted to the Fultoli cause. The current Imam (at the time of writing this), Mawlana Nazrul Islam, of the mosque, is a kind and soft-spoken person, which my father like many others greatly admired and would regularly attend ‘Fultoli style’ congregational ‘Milad Sharif’ that he would hold on request or for special occasions.

Mawlana Nazrul Islam is seen, by many, as a spiritual leader and imam. As my father did, many first and second-generation Bengalis living in London regularly attend Brick Lane Jamme Masjid to listen to the beloved Imam. He appears regularly on TV and is considered somewhat of a ‘celebrity shaykh’ amongst the older generation Bengalis in Britain. I’ve met Mawlana Nazrul Islam on many occasions in my teens, and most recently when he permitted me to lead funeral salah over my late father at Brick Lane Jamme Masjid. He has an air of calmness when he speaks and comes across as highly compassionate, which is why so many people confide in him. I would argue, it is only partly due to the Fultoli tradition that this unique mosque, situated in the heart of Brick Lane, remains popular. It is mainly due to the Imam and his charisma that has kept Brick Lane predominantly Fultoli orientated.

Today, whenever I walk into the halls of Brick Lane Jamme Masjid, it immediately takes me back to a time when its expression of Islam was all I knew. For the first eleven years of my life, the Fultoli tradition was Islam for me. My father would regularly take me with him whenever he would travel to Brick Lane on Fridays. Despite me finding very little in common with its tradition today, Brick Lane Jamme Masjid feels much like an old home associated with good memories. In the 1970s, it was a much-needed home away from home for British Sylheti migrants. It was the one place where they could identify with one another under an expression of Islam they were familiar with and loved — the Fultoli tradition.

[1] Muhammad Abdul Bari 2018, A Long Jihad, My Quest for the Middle Way, P. 24.

[2] Muhammad Abdul Bari 2018, A Long Jihad, My Quest for the Middle Way, P. 160.

[3] Abdul Azim Ahmed & Mansur Ali 2019, In search of Sylhet — The Fultoli Tradition in Britain, p. 11.

[4] Dr David Garbin 2005 June draft version, Bangladeshi diaspora in the UK: socio-cultural dynamics, religious trends and transnational politics, P. 5.

Fultolis & their Generational Decline in Britain

In my opinion, I don’t think Fultoli Sahib ever anticipated for his movement to cross international waters when he started out. In the UK, Sylheti migrants sought to preserve their national religious — Fultoli — identity through the establishment of networks of mosques. Unlike Deobandi institutions, Fultoli establishments in Britain emphasised far less on authority and hierarchy and tended to rely on the distinctiveness of their traditions to carry their movement on with subsequent generations. Fultoli mosques are far more independent than most other mosques with denominational allegiances and are only bound by networks of familiarity. Sahib’s reaction to the network of Fultoli mosques established in the UK was to frequently tour these mosques to deliver his unique brand of preaching ‘waz’ and fundraise to further the Fultoli cause, which often meant financial aid to various Fultoli mosques, madrasas, and orphanages back in Bangladesh.[1]

I’m a second-generation British Bangladeshi, and such preaching and fundraising to “further” the Fultoli cause — a Sunni, Hanafi, Naqshabandi in Sufi Tradition, interwoven with regional heritage and pride — very rarely piqued my interest, even when it was the only expression of Islam available to me. Today, the only familiarity that I have with the Fultoli way, is through my late father who would regularly praise and interact with Mawlana Nazrul Islam and other like-minded imams. Although there is no research data available to indicate this, the majority of third and fourth generation British Bengalis don’t even know what Fultoli is or have never heard of the term. In my interactions with third or fourth generation British Bengalis, I’ve noticed that most of them prefer a less noisy and purer expression of Islam. Even those who are aware of the denominational divides amongst Muslims, tend to mistakenly conflate the traditions of Deoband and Fultoli as the same. If one were to travel to Sylhet, it would become quickly apparent how at odds both traditions are. In the UK however, these differences are of no real concern for the younger generation, mainly for three reasons.

Either they are not fully aware of the regional significance of Sylhet and Bangladesh.
Or they prefer an expression of Islam with less perceived innovation and does away with cultural influences.
Or, if it is the way of Sufism they want to follow, then there are more attractive English speaking Sufi teachers available as alternatives.

By being firmly tied to its regional heritage and pride, the Fultoli tradition has unintentionally become an insider movement, inaccessible to British born Bengalis or non-Bengalis.

Abdul Azim Ahmed & Mansur Ali write:

If one looks at the Tablighi Jama’at[2], who have successfully transplanted their movement from its South Asian origins to multiple new contexts, with appeal not only to the British-born Deobandi diaspora but also (to a more limited degree) intra-religious converts from other ethnicities and denominations, the failure of the Fultoli tradition becomes even more pronounced.[3]

There may be apparent dividing lines between Fultolis and Deobandis overseas, which is mainly due to an entirely different societal and academic demographic than that of Britain, in the UK the differences seem somewhat loosely defined or even overlooked. Whereas most Barelwi orientated mosques in the UK have outright banned any Tablighi activities to take place on their premises (this is because the Tablighi movement maintains its ties with Deoband, to which Barelwis are famously in opposition to on a global scale)[4], Fultoli mosques in Britain, however, appear more tolerant of the Tablighi methodology. Instances can be found where Fultoli mosques have accommodated Tablighi visits and preaching.[5] This is an important development for the following two reasons.

It highlights a marked difference between the Fultoli and Barelwi movements.
It may be an indication that the British Fultoli movement is willing to adapt and become more inclusive and accessible.

To say ‘the Fultoli tradition is failing’ might be premature. Different traditions and movements have come together before in the interest of common goals or to benefit each other. It’s not farfetched to suggest that the Fultoli tradition might come to understand that it is slowly losing its relevance amongst the newer generation and can benefit from Tablighi influence in the coming years.

[1] Sadek Hamid 2018, Sufis, Salafi and Islamists, The Contested Ground of British Islamic Activism, p. 74.

[2] The Tablighi movement is an apolitical and quietist Deobandi movement of mass Islamic revivalism, It has developed into one of the most important grassroots Islamic movements in the contemporary Muslim world. (Riyaz Timol 2019, Structures of Organisation and Loci of Authority in a Glocal Islamic Movement: The Tablighi Jama’at in Britain)

[3] Abdul Azim Ahmed & Mansur Ali 2019, In search of Sylhet — The Fultoli Tradition in Britain, p. 14.

[4] Dr Mamnun Khan 2019, Being British Muslims, Beyond Ethnocentric Relion and Identity Politics, p. 59–70.

[5] Riyaz Timol 2019, Structures of Organisation and Loci of Authority in a Glocal Islamic Movement: The Tablighi Jama’at in Britain, p. 9–10.

Conclusion

As British Bengalis have access to both cultures, an outsider may assume this is an advantage for one living in England, and it should be. But due to economic struggles, intolerance, and racial challenges, many of our youth have put their Bengali heritage of secondary value and commonly identify as ‘British Muslims’. I’ve come to understand that traditions, culture & language are all access routes to a more nuanced and deeper knowledge base and wisdom in Islam. I fundamentally disagree with the ‘Islam not culture’ movement that seems to be prevalent in our young community. Those that promote this type of thinking really have not thought of the logical implications of such a statement. One implication to consider is that after 1400 years there are many cultures in the world that are deeply interwoven with Islam, and it is through these cultures that many Muslims know Islam. And so, telling them that they should follow Islamic practices and ignore their culture is like pulling the rug completely from underneath them, as many of them would have difficulty knowing culture from Islam. The majority of our parents and grandparents fall into this category, and it’s simply not valid to imply that their belief and Iman to be of less value based on a vague slogan. It is not a realistic outlook.

To some extent, I guess our parents and grandparents are right. The majority of our 3rd and 4th generation British Bangladeshis have almost completely lost touch with what their parents and grandparents call their motherland. This is natural. With each passing generation, cultural traditions evolve into something that can be unrecognisable or fade away into obscurity until all that latter generations can recall are myths and legends. As Bengalis, our heritage and history have great significance, and it is our innate disposition to pass this knowledge onto our children.

Culture is defined as food, clothing, language, traditions, habits, arts, music, and any other cultural aspects that define a group. Islam has set a clear standard for believers to see each other as brothers in faith, and it prohibited retaining any cultural norms that contradict Islam. However, Islam tolerated most differences and history is enough to show this. What is important is our identity is fundamentally based upon a common brotherhood. Even the tribes of Madinah (where Prophet Muhammad ﷺ governed from) had different cultural traits and these tribes were not eradicated nor their cultures.

Another implication of the ‘Islam not culture’ movement is risking the promotion of an abstract understanding of Islam as we see in some circles. As humans, we can only understand the world through interacting and understanding the things in it. The Messenger was not abstract, rather he was raised and was part of a particular culture, and Islam engaged with many cultures of the world through the ages. The Quran was revealed within a particular time frame and was understood by a particular group of people of a particular culture and tradition, who spoke and understood each other in a particular manner. It is intellectually unsound to suggest that Islam of any era and region can be interpreted or understood without first understanding the culture and tradition it flourished in.

British Bangladeshis have come a long way and have become part of the British way and life. I have no doubt that our community will grow and flourish in the coming generations and will continue to contribute in many ways to the British way of life. But many are becoming detached from their cultural heritage due to several contributing factors. Indeed, having a British Muslim identity is yet another cultural identity that many people see themselves as part of in various degrees. The irony is that many of those that like to push the slogan ‘Islam, not culture’ have grown up or identified themselves as British Muslims.

“People of reason know that differentiated and multi-level participation is essential for community harmony.” — Muhammad Abdul Bari[1]

We ourselves tend to invent divides between different cultures and traditions and call for integration, when in fact they all start to blend into one another eventually. I disagree when people push the notion of ‘Muslim integration’. Integration happens naturally and over a span of time, it cannot be achieved overnight or be forced. I’m of the opinion that ‘integration’ has lost its real meaning in the UK today. And rather than throwing around vague and ambiguous terminology, the real key to community cohesion is to encourage and promote better understanding and awareness of different cultures and traditions. For most young British Bengalis, it’s not a question of integration and incompatibility that is causing them to become detached from their cultural heritage, but rather a lack of understanding overall of cultural heritage and history. Promoting a healthier understanding of different cultures and traditions will highlight differences but not the incompatibility of social and communal interaction. Islam is not a religion that doesn’t have mechanisms in place to ensure social cohesion with other ways of life and religious beliefs.

[1] Muhammad Abdul Bari 2004, Race, Religion & Muslim Identity in Britain, p. 143.