Monthly Archives: March 2008

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Turkey is working on a revolutionary new interpretation of the Prophet Mohammed’s reputed sayings, known as the Hadith.

The project is aimed at allowing millions of Muslims to re-evaluate their religious obligations in the light of modern ways of living.

Full article here

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Mian Mir’s death anniversary celebrations are commencing today.

Mian Mir is regarded as one of the greatest Sufi saints of the Subcontinent. He belonged to the Qadiria order of the Sufis. He was famous for being a spiritual instructor to Dara Shikoh, the eldest son of Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan, who also held Mian Mir in great esteem.

Dara Shikoh was a devoted disciple of the saint. His father, Shah Jahan, often requested the saint to pray for his empire.

Mian Mir was the earliest Sufi saint who promoted the Qadiria order in Lahore.

He shunned worldly selfish men and proud high-ups of his time. He used to post his mureeds (disciples) at the gate of his house to stop rich people from entering.

Once Emperor Shah Jahan, with his attendants, came to pay homage to the great dervish. Mian Mir’s disciples stopped the emperor at the gate and requested him to wait, until permission was given. Shah Jahan felt insulted, but controlled his temper and composed himself. (more…)

By Vidya Rao

The streets of some cities, they say, are paved with gold. This city’s streets are paved with stories. Doubtless, they were also paved with gold once, but this would have been before the British pounced upon it and shook its pagoda tree. Which was how they referred to the looting of India that each ‘nabob’ of the East India Company systematically carried out. Though, to give the devil his due, it was the British that are considered to have founded the city. (more…)

Music and Love share a primordial bond. None other than the legendary and a genius of our times Allah Rakah Rahman, better known to the world as A.R. Rahman appreciates it at a much deeper level. The composer who has been honoured by the world and the subcontinent, he is a follower of the Chishty school of Sufism.

After a glorious career path and adding melody to South Asian music, A R Rahman has set up a music conservatory in India dedicated to none other than Khawaja Ghareeb Nawaz of Ajmer. Two letters, K and M, are lucky for Rahman and also reflect his devotion to the great Saint, his teachings and all-encompassing spirituality.

This is perhaps why his latest composition for the film Jodhaa Akbar – Khawaja Meray Khawaja – is a matchless piece. It is subtle and moves at a pace akin to that of a lover’s – slow yet impatient, heavy and full of yearning. It is a separate matter that the film-maker turned it into a nightmare of pop-Sufi icons – whirling dervishes in medieval Ajmer and with fake beards.

Here is the Khwaja Meray Khawaja’s amazing track. Ignore the video – just listen to it. For lyrics and their competent translation.

May God bless AR for his music and search for the path.

My other favourites from A R Rahman are found below:

Kehha hi Kiya (Bombay)

Dil hai chotta sa (Roja)

Jiya Jale (Dil Se)

The list goes on – so more later

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Sana’i ! If you don’t find a friend, be your own
friend! In this world of every kind of man and every kind of
task, be a man for your own task!*
Each member of this caravan is stealing his own
baggage — place your own self behind and sit before your
baggage!
People sell ephemeral beauty and buy
ephemeral love — pass beyond those two dry riverbeds and be
your own river!
These friends of yours keep on pulling you by
the hand toward nonexistence — steal back your hand and be
your own helper!
These beauties painted on canvas veil the
beauties of the heart-lift up the veil and enter: Be with your
own Beloved!
Be with your own Beloved and be a well-thinking,
good man! Be more than two worlds — dwell in your own
domain!
Go, do not become drunk with the wine that
increase arrogance — behold the brightness of that Face and be
soberly aware of your own Self!

Rumi

Translation by William C. Chittick
“The Sufi Path of Love”
SUNY Press, Albany, 1983

* Rumi refers to Sana’i's discussion of good and evil companions
in his Hadiqat al-haqiqat.

Source.

Sur Suhni

This story dates back to the time when the Moghul Emperor, Shah Jahan ruled over Delhi. There was a wealthy potter named Tala, in Gujarat (a village in the Punjab), who had a beautiful daughter named Mahi (Suhni  the beautiful). About that time a handsome youth named Izzat Beg (Mehar), son of a merchant of Bukhara, had started on his Indian tour, and visited Lahore and Delhi, buying and selling merchandise. He chanced to pass through the village of Gujarat and fell madly in love with the potter’s daughter. So he stayed back indefinitely and forgot his home and profession.

He used to visit the potter’s house constantly on the pretext of buying the pots, and so oblivious was he of his financial state that in a short time he converted all his wealth into pottery. His home was now full of pots of all sized and shapes. Very soon he was obliged to open a shop and turn potseller to support himself.

But his heart being with Suhni, he could not attend to retailing earthenware and shop was closed and Izzat Beg came under the employment of Tala, whose daughter he loved. First they put him to knead the clay.

Then they gave him a herd of buffaloes to graze, which he did as a labour of love. At last one evening chance brought him face to face with the beloved, to whom he then confessed his feelings. Suhni was struck with his devotion towards her, and she gave her heart to her father’s servant. They met secretly thereafter but not for long. (more…)

I am grateful to Shahidain for introducing me to another majestic poem of Bulleh Shah with the translation and a preamble:

Ever since the soul has been seperated from its source, it has been pining to go back to it. The feeling of loneliness by man will not end till the soul unites back with the Lord. When God had not manifested himelf, all the the souls were united with Him. When they were seperated , there was a covenant between them, that He would reunite those with Him, who were really desirous to do so. So the Lord is as keen to end the period of seperation as is the yearning soul.

O Maid! Who is this well clad Person?
O Maid! Offer Him a seat and enquire Him sincerely

He has a staff in hand, a blanket on His shoulder
He has glowing eyes
He is not aservant but some one ecstatic
Ask Him politely and sincerely

Do not call Him a servant or a herdman
He is not without any deep secret
He seems seperated (from his Beloved) on the very first night of Union
He has come here looking for his Beloved, O Maid

O Maid! Who is this well clad Person?
O Maid! Offer Him a seat and enquire Him sincerely

He is neither a servant
nor has He any interest in tending buffaloes
He is neither fong of milk nor yoghurt
Neither He feels hungry nor thirsty, O Maid

O Maid! Who is this well clad Person?
O Maid! Offer Him a seat and enquire Him sincerely

Bulleh, the Beloved is hidden and sits aside
Neither He speaks nor reveals any secrets
My father is trying to find a fiance from Kheras
O Maid, whereas my Fiance is with me

O Maid! Who is this well clad Person?
O Maid! Offer Him a seat and enquire Him sincerely

(translated by Saeed Ahmad)

The original Punjabi version is posted below: (more…)

My city Lahore was attacked yet again by the pusillanimous attackers pretending to be brave and honourable. There is no justification and no excuse for this modus operandi. And it should not be tolerated by the state and the people. Any excuse would legitimise this reign of terror..

I am posting this excellent piece by the wise Khalid Hasan (Daily Times) that makes some excellent points on the menace of Jihad and how unholy it is -

Leaders of Salafi-jihadist organisations hypocritically preach about the benefits of martyrdom, but rarely, if ever, conduct suicide operations themselves, or send their loved ones on such missions. It is a fact that Al Qaeda and associated groups offer no vision for Muslims other than perennial jihad, hardly an appealing prospect

Jihad is now an industry among scholars, including those who masquerade as scholars but are actually in the service of more shadowy outfits, and those who believe that by blowing up people praying in mosques or families out shopping, they will not only serve God but win a point-to-point ticket to the pastures of heaven where seventy-two swooning virgins await their arrival. (more…)

That the conservative and often skin-deep Economist published the story - “The world’s most dangerous place” - was not surprising. The publication sings an imperial tune, praises occupations and invasions in the name of free markets and democracy; and sells the commodification of the poor. And, above all, it can be shamelessly biased when it comes to countries such as Pakistan.

However, what truly surprised me was a letter to the editor that appeared a few weeks later. By chance I read it and was amazed by its sheer empathy and directness. The writer was one Dr. Shreekant Gupta, a visiting senior research fellow at the Institute of South Asian Studies in Singapore.

SIR — The title of your leader on Pakistan (“The world’s most dangerous place”, January 5th) confirms the old adage in journalism: when it bleeds it leads. Yes, Pakistan is going through trying times, but it is far from being the world’s most dangerous country. Having just returned from Pakistan, which I traversed without let or hindrance with my Indian passport and Hindu name, I can say emphatically that its people are warm and friendly and passionate about democracy and the forthcoming elections.

Parts of my own country (and Nepal and Sri Lanka) are racked by Maoist guerrilla warfare and violent separatist movements. I do not recall you designating India as the world’s most dangerous place when Rajiv Gandhi was assassinated during electioneering, or Indira Gandhi for that matter. The latter’s killing was followed by a brutal and murderous pogrom against Sikhs and Delhi burned for days. The truth always contains shades of grey.

I made a note of it but never remembered to follow up. And, what a delight it was when I found out that Dr Gupta had visited Jahane Rumi and left a comment. We corresponded and developed the cyber-friendship that now constitutes regular communication and exchange of ideas, stories and anecdotes.

It is such a pleasure to have met Dr Gupta through the cyberspace and with little effort. My email to him, after he sent the above letter, stated: “What a small world … I had read your letter in the Economist. And, wanted to write to you how impressed I was not just as a Pakistani but as a South Asian. That was a proud challenge to the Western media and a testament to your intellectual honesty… strange are the ways of this world… My stars are well-aligned these days!!”

Dr Gupta has sent the full text of the letter (reproduced below) that he had mailed to the Economist. For a change, the cynical, vulnerable to the soft brainwashing of the international media, should read it. This is what a genuine scholarly mindset is: an application of logic, reason and knowledge without pre-conceived notions and personal biases.

In Dr Gupta, I have found a friend but more importantly my country has another well wisher in the neighbourhood. (more…)

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My piece published in the News on Sunday yesterday -

Karta hun jama phir jigare lakht lakht ko (I seek to gather the scattered pieces of my heart)

Not long ago, say two decades ago, we the Zia”s children yearned for a country that treaded the Malaysian path for prosperity; and somehow were to transform a tolerant, inclusive society. Such were the dizzying dreams. We wanted the Hudood laws to vanish, the witch-hunt under the blasphemy laws to end and sectarian-ethnic monsters buried. We were inspired by the likes of Mohtarama, for some the charitable cricketer appeared the redeemer. The road to utopia also emerged when a bus took off from the other side of the border and landed in Lahore. The brothers Sharifov became new faces of a moderate, booming Pakistan. Mr. Vajpayee”s chant on the ancient roads of Lahore, “ab jang nahee ho gi” was enough to willingly suspend our disbelief. For many a precious day, we forgot the corruption stories, the political squabbles and incompetence all around.

And then the utopia signs dwindled as the battles on the white peaks of Kargil turned red, a VVIP plane hijacked re-invoking the sorry state of martial rule. We could not live without the dream however. So the new goals — accountability, devolution and economic miracles — weaved a new chador of delusions. Like that mythical chador, this new age of globalised Pakistan made reality invisible. We had technocratic solutions spun once again and the opening up of imperial coffers gave us a false sense of moving towards the dream-path.

Yet again, the ideal was snatched and smashed as the myriad myths of unequal development started exploding with imported and local bombs.

This time my utopia seems painfully distant, blurred. I have forgotten what it was. It slipped from the vision when the suicide bombers started visiting the idyllic Islamabad. I now suffer from a mild amnesia. I don”t know what I hoped for in those naive, uninformed days when Faiz”s Hum dekhain ge outlined its contours; and the daagh daagh ujala was destined to transform into sheer resplendence of a vibrant society future.

How do I gather the slipping grains of what was the cherished utopia. I had heard that human memory vistas theoretically are seamless and clear. But that vision of those vast green fields is now blood-stained. Suicide bombers are omnipresent and my dear friend in Waziristan tells me that the queue is long and restive. The streets of Islamabad, Lahore, and Karachi are potted with excess blood choking the civilization arteries. (more…)