The backstreets, parks and squares of central London have some kind of appeal that is difficult to explain. I used to wander Bloomsbury, Holborn and Regents Park--Coram's Fields, Lincoln's Inn, Tavistock Square, Montague Street, Langham Street, Bow Street, Covent Garden--often lost in a world of my own, pondering on all that surrounded me. Friends often spent those weekend evenings in the loud pubs and clubs of the city, but I found myself a silent witness instead, exploring its every street on foot. Sometimes I would find myself returning home to the accompaniment of a beautiful dawn chorus as the sky lightened and turned orange, the sweet song of blackbirds surprising me given the din that characterised WC1. One bank holiday in early May I returned to those streets with a purpose. Through study and prayer I had gradually been coming to believe in the religion of Muhammad, the Messenger of God, and now a kind of certainty had settled within. Having spent the whole weekend on my own, contemplating the urge to honour God that now dominated me, I emerged from my flat in the early evening and set out along my favourite streets, continuing my conversation with myself as I sauntered onwards. Although the holiday weekend was drawing to a close, Covent Garden was still lively with crowds of people bustling here and there. It was here that I posed a question to myself: "Will you leave all of this behind?" Perhaps I did not need to, but just then I felt an incredible need to reform myself and start anew, and so this question was quite symbolic. It was as if I was about to leave one world and enter another. "Will you be able to leave all of this behind," was what I really meant? I stood in that market square for quite some time, observing the scene all around me as I pondered upon this question of mine. By nightfall I had the answer.

A sentiment commonly expressed by those without faith is that religion should be a private affair and yet they often seem to deny this slogan by their insistence on making what is private public. My testimony of faith came after a very personal journey over the preceding years, months and weeks, but as soon as I made the decision to state those words I found my whole life thrust into public view for all to scrutinise as they pleased. I had considered my utterance of those two simple sentences--I bear witness that none is worthy of worship except God and that Muhammad is his Messenger--a personal matter, but within only a matter of hours this news was in the public domain. I had many friends at the start of that day that by nightfall refused to speak to me. The questions I had been asking myself the previous evening had suddenly come into sharp focus for I had not anticipated that the reaction of my friends would be quite like that. "Will you leave all of this behind?"

The reason that my answer was yes in every case was I desperately wanted to honour God, to leave my atheism and agnosticism behind me, and return to Him. This was why I had returned to studying the Bible and to attending church over the previous year despite the derision of my friends: I knew that I needed God and I was desperately seeking Truth. I was never put under pressure to convert--in fact I was often perturbed by the reluctance of both Muslims and Christians to share their faith and convince me of its truth--but found myself driven onwards by an overpowering feeling of alienation from God instead. Thus rather than dwell on the reaction of others I busied myself with learning.

Religious belief is not merely centred on faith. Since coming to believe in Islam I have performed a certain ritual over eleven thousand times and have prostrated before my Lord around ninety thousand times. These numbers indicate that there are duties which Muslims are obliged to perform as part of their day to day lives. From the day I made my testimony of faith, I established the routine of formal prayer which is performed five times each day at dawn, midday, mid-afternoon, sunset and nightfall, although it did not all come naturally to me. For some weeks I was reliant on handwritten prompts to guide me through the words, only to discover that I knew them off by heart one day when I had to pray alone in unfamiliar surroundings without my scrappy notes. The purpose of this ritual prayer--known as salat--is to remind us of the reality of our life in this world, to give us more opportunities to please our Lord and to wash away the sins which we accumulate during the day.

The prayer begins with intention and is followed by a succession of actions--standing whilst reciting verses of the Qur'an, bowing whilst praising God, prostrating and kneeling. The opening chapter of the Qur'an is recited in every single prayer--at least seventeen times a day if one only offers the obligatory prayers--and reads:

Praise be to God, Lord of the Universe, the Compassionate, the Merciful, Sovereign of the Day of Judgement! You alone we worship, and to You alone we turn for help. Guide us to the straight path, the path of those whom You have favoured, not of those who have incurred Your anger, nor of those who have gone astray.

While bowing we utter the words, "Holy is my Lord, the Magnificent." While prostrating we say, "Glory to my Lord, the Most High." This ritual prayer performed five times a day is our means of maintaining a continuous link with God. It is not, of course, our only link with Him for individuals can pray at any time and in any manner according to the will of the supplicant.

In due course other duties followed such as fasting, paying zakat and pilgrimage. While fasting is a voluntary act throughout the rest of the year, it is obligatory during the month of Ramadan for all Muslims who are physically able. Those who are sick, on a journey, pregnant or nursing are permitted to break the fast although they are required to make up an equal number of days later in the year or else feed a needy person for each day they missed. Fasting is regarded principally as a means of purification. By abstaining from normal pleasures and comforts the fasting person achieves growth in their spiritual life, learning discipline, self-restraint, patience and flexibility. Similarly, Zakat--which means purification--is the process of giving a proportion of one's wealth to the poor and needy each year. The pilgrimage to Mecca at least once in a Muslim's lifetime--the Hajj--is also obligatory for all who are able.

Not every religious duty if an act of ritual, however. Our Prophet, peace be upon him, was asked, "To whom should I be dutiful?" He replied: "Your mother." "Then whom?" asked the man. "Your mother," came the reply again. "Then whom?" "Your mother," replied the Messenger. "Then to whom?" asked the man finally. "Your father," said our noble Prophet. In Islam, breaking the ties of kinship is considered a major sin, listed alongside murder and polytheism. Islam is religion of action: having good manners, being charitable, looking after orphans and feeding the poor are all duties that Muslims are strongly encouraged to fulfil. If I learnt anything during my earliest days as a Muslim, it was that our path is considered the Middle Way.