Explanations are simplified from tafsirs by Ibn Kathir, Mufti Muhammad Shafi, and Maulana Wahiduddin Khan. Spot an inaccuracy? Let us know.
بِسْمِ ٱللَّهِ ٱلرَّحْمَـٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيمِ
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innā arsalnā nūḥan ilā qawmihi an andhir qawmaka min qabli an yatiyahum ʿadhābun alīmun
Indeed, We sent Noah to his people, [saying], "Warn your people before there comes to them a painful punishment."
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qāla yāqawmi innī lakum nadhīrun mubīnun
He said, "O my people, indeed I am to you a clear warner -
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ani uʿ'budū l-laha wa-ittaqūhu wa-aṭīʿūni
To worship Allāh, fear Him and obey me.
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yaghfir lakum min dhunūbikum wayu-akhir'kum ilā ajalin musamman inna ajala l-lahi idhā jāa lā yu-akharu law kuntum taʿlamūna
He [i.e., Allāh] will forgive you of your sins and delay you for a specified term. Indeed, the time [set by] Allāh, when it comes, will not be delayed, if you only knew."
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qāla rabbi innī daʿawtu qawmī laylan wanahāran
He said, "My Lord, indeed I invited my people [to truth] night and day.
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falam yazid'hum duʿāī illā firāran
But my invitation increased them not except in flight [i.e., aversion].
And indeed, every time I invited them that You may forgive them, they put their fingers in their ears, covered themselves with their garments, persisted, and were arrogant with [great] arrogance.
Indeed, We sent Noah to his people, [saying], "Warn your people before there comes to them a painful punishment."
This surah opens with Allah reminding us that He sent Prophet Nuh (Noah) to his people with a very specific mission — warn them before a painful punishment arrives. Notice the urgency baked into the phrasing: "before it comes to them." There's a window of opportunity here, and Nuh is being sent to make sure people don't miss it. Nuh is one of the earliest and most determined prophets mentioned in the Quran, often called one of the Ulul Azm — the prophets of strong resolve. His story spans centuries of patient, relentless dawah, and this surah gives us a deeply personal look at his struggle. Think of it as Nuh's own testimony, his report back to Allah about how things went with his people.
Ayah 2
قَالَ يَـٰقَوْمِ إِنِّى لَكُمْ نَذِيرٌ مُّبِينٌ
He said, "O my people, indeed I am to you a clear warner -
Nuh wastes no time — he addresses his people directly and identifies himself clearly as a plain warner. There's no ambiguity in his message, no hidden agenda. He's essentially saying, "Look, I'm not here to confuse you or play games — I'm here to give you a clear warning." The word "clear" is important because it removes any excuse his people might later have for ignoring the message. Throughout the Quran, prophets are described as delivering clarity, not complexity. It's a reminder that the core message of faith has always been straightforward — people just choose to complicate it.
Ayah 3
أَنِ ٱعْبُدُوا۟ ٱللَّهَ وَٱتَّقُوهُ وَأَطِيعُونِ
To worship Allāh, fear Him and obey me.
Here's the entire message distilled into three simple commands: worship Allah, be conscious of Him, and follow His messenger. That's it. No elaborate theology, no impossible rituals — just sincere devotion, mindfulness of God, and obedience to the one delivering the message. You can see this same formula echoed across every prophet's mission in the Quran, from Ibrahim to Muhammad, peace be upon them all. The simplicity is the point — Nuh's people couldn't claim the message was too hard to understand. Fearing Allah here doesn't mean cowering in terror; it's about developing that inner awareness that keeps you on the right path even when no one is watching.
He [i.e., Allāh] will forgive you of your sins and delay you for a specified term. Indeed, the time [set by] Allāh, when it comes, will not be delayed, if you only knew."
Nuh sweetens the deal with a beautiful promise — if you turn back to Allah, He'll forgive your sins and extend your life to its appointed term. The forgiveness part is expected, but the mention of being given respite is fascinating. Some scholars interpret this as meaning that righteous communities are granted longer, more blessed lifespans — or at least that their destruction isn't hastened. Then comes the sobering reminder: when Allah's appointed time does arrive, it cannot be delayed even by a moment. This is Nuh telling his people that the clock is ticking and procrastination isn't a strategy. If you know anything about how time works, you know that "later" has a way of becoming "too late."
He said, "My Lord, indeed I invited my people [to truth] night and day.
Now the surah shifts — Nuh is no longer speaking to his people but reporting back to Allah. There's something deeply emotional about this verse. He's saying, "My Lord, I called them night and day." This wasn't a half-hearted effort or a weekend project. Nuh dedicated himself completely, reaching out in every possible time slot, never taking a break from his mission. According to various narrations, Nuh preached for 950 years — an almost incomprehensible span of time. Imagine the patience, the resilience, the heartbreak of calling people to truth for centuries and being met with rejection over and over again.
Ayah 6
فَلَمْ يَزِدْهُمْ دُعَآءِىٓ إِلَّا فِرَارًا
But my invitation increased them not except in flight [i.e., aversion].
This is one of the most heartbreaking lines in the entire Quran. The more Nuh called his people, the further they ran away. His invitation didn't just fail to attract them — it actively repelled them. Every effort he made seemed to push them deeper into denial. You can feel the weight of his frustration here, not anger but genuine sorrow. It's a phenomenon that still happens today — sometimes the more clearly truth is presented, the more stubbornly some people resist it, as if the very clarity of the message threatens the comfortable illusions they've built their lives around.
And indeed, every time I invited them that You may forgive them, they put their fingers in their ears, covered themselves with their garments,1 persisted, and were arrogant with [great] arrogance.
The imagery here is vivid and almost cinematic. Every time Nuh invited them to seek Allah's forgiveness, they literally stuck their fingers in their ears and pulled their clothes over their heads — like children refusing to listen. They persisted in their rejection and puffed themselves up with arrogance. This wasn't passive indifference; it was aggressive, theatrical refusal. The finger-in-the-ears gesture shows they knew the message was reaching them and they were actively trying to block it out. Their arrogance wasn't born of having better arguments — it was born of pride, of refusing to humble themselves before anyone, including their Creator. You've probably seen this dynamic in smaller ways — people who'd rather look away than confront an uncomfortable truth.
Ayah 8
ثُمَّ إِنِّى دَعَوْتُهُمْ جِهَارًا
Then I invited them publicly.
After being rebuffed in private conversations, Nuh switched tactics and went public. He started making his call openly, in front of everyone, where the message couldn't be whispered away or denied. This shows his adaptability as a caller to truth — when one approach didn't work, he tried another. Public dawah carries its own risks, of course, because it invites public ridicule and opposition. But Nuh wasn't concerned about his reputation; he was concerned about his people's fate. There's a lesson here about persistence and creativity in how you share important truths with others.
Then I announced to them and [also] confided to them secretly
Nuh pulled out every tool in his communication toolkit. He announced his message loudly in public gatherings, and he also took people aside for quiet, personal conversations. He understood that different people respond to different approaches — some might be moved by a public sermon, while others need a private, one-on-one heart-to-heart. This verse reveals Nuh as a deeply thoughtful and strategic communicator, not someone just going through the motions. He genuinely cared about reaching each person in the way most likely to get through to them. After 950 years of effort, you can imagine he had tried every conceivable method.
And said, 'Ask forgiveness of your Lord. Indeed, He is ever a Perpetual Forgiver.
Here Nuh reveals the core of his private message — just ask Allah for forgiveness. That's the starting point, the door that opens everything else. The beautiful phrase "indeed, He is Oft-Forgiving" reassures people that no matter how far they've strayed, the door of repentance is wide open. Nuh isn't burdening his people with impossible demands; he's offering them the simplest possible first step. Istighfar — seeking forgiveness — is presented throughout the Quran as transformative, not just spiritually but materially, as the next verses will show. It's a reminder that the relationship between you and Allah can always be reset with sincere repentance.
Ayah 11
يُرْسِلِ ٱلسَّمَآءَ عَلَيْكُم مِّدْرَارًا
He will send [rain from] the sky upon you in [continuing] showers
This is where Nuh's message takes a surprising turn into the tangible and material. Ask for forgiveness, he says, and Allah will send rain pouring down abundantly. For a society dependent on agriculture and rainfall, this wasn't abstract theology — it was a direct appeal to their daily survival and prosperity. The connection between spiritual state and natural provision is a recurring Quranic theme. Scholars throughout history have noted this verse as evidence that istighfar brings material blessings, and there are famous stories of scholars like Hasan al-Basri advising people who complained of drought or poverty to simply increase their seeking of forgiveness.
And give you increase in wealth and children and provide for you gardens and provide for you rivers.
The blessings keep flowing — wealth, children, gardens, and rivers. Nuh is painting a picture of complete worldly prosperity, all stemming from that single act of turning back to Allah in repentance. Gardens and rivers in an ancient context represent the ultimate in settled prosperity and abundance. He's telling his people that what they're chasing through idol worship and stubbornness — material success and legacy through children — is actually available through the very path they're rejecting. It's a profound irony that they sought worldly gain by clinging to false gods while the true path to abundance was through the One God they refused to acknowledge.
Ayah 13
مَّا لَكُمْ لَا تَرْجُونَ لِلَّهِ وَقَارًا
What is [the matter] with you that you do not attribute to Allāh [due] grandeur
Nuh shifts from promises to a pointed question — what is wrong with you that you don't recognize Allah's greatness and majesty? The Arabic word "waqar" here implies grandeur, dignity, and gravity. Nuh is genuinely bewildered by their refusal. It's as if he's asking, "How can you look at reality and not feel awe toward your Creator?" This question cuts through all the theological arguments and goes straight to the heart of the matter. Sometimes the problem isn't intellectual — it's a failure of the heart to feel the weight and majesty of something obviously magnificent. You might know all the right facts but still fail to let them move you.
Ayah 14
وَقَدْ خَلَقَكُمْ أَطْوَارًا
While He has created you in stages?1
Nuh points to the evidence of their own creation — Allah made you in stages. This could refer to the stages of embryonic development, the progression from infancy to adulthood, or even the broader evolutionary stages of human creation from earth to the complex beings we are today. The point is that your very existence is a testament to deliberate, purposeful design. Nothing about you happened by accident. Each stage of your development — from a single cell to a thinking, feeling human being — was orchestrated with precision. Nuh uses this as evidence because it's undeniable and universal; every person who has ever lived went through these stages.
Do you not consider how Allāh has created seven heavens in layers1
Now Nuh turns their attention upward — look at the seven heavens, layered one above another. The sky itself is evidence of Allah's creative power and meticulous design. The word "tibaaqa" suggests layers or tiers, pointing to an ordered, structured cosmos rather than random chaos. Modern astronomy has revealed layers of atmosphere, then space, then structures beyond our comprehension — and yet the fundamental point Nuh made thousands of years ago still holds. When you look up at the night sky, you're looking at something designed with intention. Nuh is essentially saying that the signs of Allah's existence and grandeur are literally above your heads if you'd just bother to look.
And made the moon therein a [reflected] light and made the sun a burning lamp?
The Quran makes a subtle but scientifically fascinating distinction here — the moon is described as a "noor" (reflected light), while the sun is called a "siraj" (a blazing lamp). One reflects, the other generates. This precise distinction, made in a seventh-century revelation and attributed to a prophet who lived millennia before that, is remarkable. Nuh draws his people's attention to these cosmic fixtures that they see every single day but take for granted. The sun provides energy and warmth for life, while the moon provides gentle light for navigation and timekeeping. Both serve humanity by deliberate design, and both point to a Creator who arranged the cosmos with care and purpose.
Ayah 17
وَٱللَّهُ أَنۢبَتَكُم مِّنَ ٱلْأَرْضِ نَبَاتًا
And Allāh has caused you to grow from the earth a [progressive] growth.
This verse uses a beautiful agricultural metaphor — Allah caused you to grow from the earth like a plant grows from soil. Your body is literally composed of elements found in the earth — minerals, water, carbon. Adam was created from clay, and every human since has been sustained by food that comes from the ground. There's a profound humility embedded in this image. You might walk proudly on the earth, but you are of the earth. The metaphor of growth also implies gradual development, nurturing, and the sustaining hand of a Gardener who tends His creation. It connects back to the "stages" mentioned a few verses earlier, reinforcing that your existence is a carefully tended process.
Then He will return you into it and extract you [another] extraction.
After growing you from the earth, Allah will return you to it — in death and burial — and then bring you forth again in resurrection. The cycle is complete: from earth, to life, back to earth, and then to a new emergence. There's an elegant symmetry here that mirrors natural cycles of growth, decay, and renewal that we see all around us in nature. The phrase "bring you forth a new bringing forth" emphasizes that resurrection isn't just a return to the old — it's something unprecedented, a new creation. Nuh is reminding his people that death isn't the end of the story; there's an afterlife where all of this will matter.
Ayah 19
وَٱللَّهُ جَعَلَ لَكُمُ ٱلْأَرْضَ بِسَاطًا
And Allāh has made for you the earth an expanse
Allah spread the earth out wide for you — it's a vast, open expanse designed for human habitation and movement. The word "bisaat" evokes something spread out like a carpet, suggesting comfort and usability. The earth isn't hostile to human life by default; it's been made accommodating, with flat plains to build on, resources to extract, and landscapes to traverse. This is another argument from design — the earth's suitability for human life isn't coincidence but provision. Nuh is stacking evidence upon evidence, moving from their own bodies to the sky to the moon and sun, and now to the very ground beneath their feet.
Ayah 20
لِّتَسْلُكُوا۟ مِنْهَا سُبُلًا فِجَاجًا
That you may follow therein roads of passage.'"
The earth's wide paths and mountain passes allow for travel, trade, migration, and exploration. Nuh closes his series of natural arguments by pointing out that the earth's geography facilitates human civilization — you can move through it, not just exist on it. Roads through valleys, passages between mountains, navigable rivers and coastlines — all of this enables the interconnected human world we know. For Nuh's ancient audience, the ability to travel for trade and sustenance was directly tied to survival. Every path they walked was, in a sense, a path laid out for them by their Creator. This concludes Nuh's remarkable appeal, which moved from spiritual promises to tangible blessings to cosmological evidence.
Noah said, "My Lord, indeed they have disobeyed me and followed him whose wealth and children will not increase him except in loss.
The tone darkens here as Nuh turns back to Allah with what reads almost like a lament. He reports that his people disobeyed him and instead followed leaders whose wealth and children only increased them in ruin. This is a sharp observation about how people often follow the rich and powerful, assuming that material success equals divine favor or moral authority. But Nuh points out the opposite — these wealthy leaders were actually heading deeper into loss, and their followers were going down with them. It's a timeless warning about confusing worldly success with spiritual guidance. Someone can have everything the world offers and still be leading you off a cliff.
Ayah 22
وَمَكَرُوا۟ مَكْرًا كُبَّارًا
And they conspired an immense conspiracy
These leaders didn't just passively reject Nuh — they actively plotted against him and his message. The word "makr" implies scheming and strategic deception, and calling it "great" suggests this was an organized, large-scale campaign to undermine the truth. They weren't just dismissing Nuh; they were working to ensure no one else would listen to him either. Power structures throughout history have done exactly this — when a message threatens the status quo, those who benefit from the current system will organize to suppress it. Nuh was up against not just individual stubbornness but institutional opposition.
And said, 'Never leave your gods and never leave Wadd or Suwāʿ or Yaghūth and Yaʿūq and Nasr.'1
Here we get a rare glimpse into the specific idols worshipped by Nuh's people — Wadd, Suwa, Yaghuth, Ya'uq, and Nasr. According to Ibn Abbas, these were originally names of righteous people who died, and Shaytan gradually convinced their descendants to make images of them, then to venerate those images, and finally to worship them outright. It's a chilling case study in how idol worship begins — not with someone deciding to worship a statue, but with honoring the dead that slowly, generation by generation, morphs into full-blown polytheism. The leaders told the people never to abandon these gods, showing how deeply entrenched the system had become. These same idol names reportedly survived and were later found among pre-Islamic Arabian tribes, suggesting a continuous thread of this deviation across millennia.
And already they have misled many. And, [my Lord], do not increase the wrongdoers except in error."
Nuh observes that these idols and their promoters have led many astray — not just his immediate audience, but countless people over generations. Then comes a devastating prayer: let the wrongdoers increase in nothing but error. This is Nuh speaking after 950 years of patient effort, after exhausting every possible method of reaching his people. This isn't a prayer of vengeance but of finality — he has come to understand that these particular people have made their choice irrevocably. When someone is determined to walk into error, sometimes the consequence is simply that they get more of what they chose. It's a sobering reflection on the reality of free will and its consequences.
Because of their sins they were drowned and put into the Fire, and they found not for themselves besides Allāh [any] helpers.
This verse delivers the conclusion of Nuh's people with devastating brevity. Because of their sins, they were drowned — referring to the Great Flood — and then immediately cast into the Fire. Two punishments, back to back, with no pause and no relief between them. The transition from drowning to hellfire is jarring and deliberate. They found no helpers besides Allah, but they had rejected Allah, so they had no one at all. All those wealthy leaders, all those carefully maintained idols, all that collective arrogance — none of it could save them when the water rose. This verse serves as the ultimate rebuttal to the illusion of power and self-sufficiency that Nuh's people had clung to for centuries.
And Noah said, "My Lord, do not leave upon the earth from among the disbelievers an inhabitant.
After witnessing centuries of relentless rejection, Nuh makes a striking supplication — he asks Allah not to leave a single disbeliever on the earth. This is not a prayer made lightly or quickly; it comes after the longest recorded prophetic mission in human history. Nuh had tried everything — public preaching, private counsel, promises of blessings, rational arguments from nature — and his people only grew more defiant. This prayer represents the point where prophetic patience meets divine justice. Some might find the prayer harsh, but understanding the context of 950 years of effort completely changes the picture. Nuh wasn't being impatient; he had reached the genuine end of what patient effort could accomplish.
Indeed, if You leave them, they will mislead Your servants and not beget except [every] wicked one and [confirmed] disbeliever.
Nuh explains his reasoning to Allah — and this is extraordinary, a prophet justifying his prayer to his Lord. If you leave them alive, he says, they will continue to mislead your servants, and they will only produce more wicked, ungrateful offspring. This isn't speculation; it's an observation based on nearly a millennium of watching generation after generation grow up in disbelief, each one harder to reach than the last. The corruption had become self-perpetuating — parents raising children in falsehood, who would grow up to raise their own children in the same. Nuh recognized that the spiritual disease had become systemic and would only spread further if left unchecked.
My Lord, forgive me and my parents and whoever enters my house a believer and the believing men and believing women. And do not increase the wrongdoers except in destruction."
The surah closes with one of the most comprehensive and beautiful duas in the entire Quran. Nuh asks forgiveness for himself, his parents, everyone who enters his home as a believer, and all believing men and women everywhere. Even in his moment of asking for the destruction of the wicked, he doesn't forget to pray for the righteous — showing that justice and mercy coexist in the prophetic character. The scope of his prayer is remarkable: it extends across time to encompass all believers, which means when you read this verse, Nuh's prayer includes you. He then closes by asking that the wrongdoers be increased only in destruction, mirroring the fate that their own choices have sealed. It's a fitting end to a surah that began with a warning and concludes with the consequences of ignoring it.