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Archive for July, 2007
The water of life
Though your life has almost passed, this present moment is its root:
if it lacks moisture, water it with repentance.
Give the Living Water to the root of your life,
so that the tree of your life may flourish.
By this Water past mistakes are redeemed.
By this Water last year’s poison is made sweet.
Rumi
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
Window 2×2 without a View
 A powerful poem by HUR on the recent events in Islamabad..
Window 2×2 without a View
A low 2×2 window
painted dark green
on the outside
faced a wall
dug with undying
will to die in the name of God.
She had stood up
against the window
for six years out of her eight
and looked at the idea
beyond the room
filled with orphans and abandoned.
She had twenty five
of the thirty chapters in her heart,
she could recite them all
to the pleasure of the Almighty.
The carnage she was
told was His will.
Other than hunger
she was free from
pain and despair.
She had never tasted a bullet,
hamburger or even a
bar of chocolate cheese.
Television, merry go round,
song and dance had
not crossed her life.
She was too young
for lipstick, eyelash or mascara.
She also was too young for this massacre.
Two by two window
with dark green paint
and a hint of white turned all black
that day.
The wall was bombed to rubble
but opened a view.
HUR
23 July 2007
Islamabad
Ideology of intolerance
Sadia Dehlvi forwarded her insightful article that rightly argues how the fringe (notably the Wahabite sect) in Islam has distorted the faith of learning and spiritual quest.
Yes, the Muslim world is facing oppression and injustice, but we can no longer escape the fact that we have enemies within the community. The Glasgow attack and the Lal Masjid horror are recent examples of extremism and terror. Clearly there is a crisis of ignorance, leadership and faith. Muslims must acknowledge that there is a radical fringe which needs to be identified and rejected. We cannot allow the pulpits of our mosques or the institutions of learning to be seized for the discourse of anger and the rhetoric of rage.
 This piece was published in the Hindustan Times. Full text of the published article can be accessed here.
Let go of all distractions
My heart, sit only with those
who know and understand you.
Sit only under a tree
that is full of blossoms.
In the bazaar of herbs and potions
don’t wander aimlessly
find the shop with a potion that is sweet
If you don’t have a measure
people will rob you in no time.
You will take counterfeit coins
thinking they are real.
Don’t fill your bowl with food from
every boiling pot you see.
Not every joke is humorous, so don’t search
for meaning where there isn’t one.
Not every eye can see,
not every sea is full of pearls.
My heart, sing the song of longing
like a nightingale.
The sound of your voice casts a spell
on every stone, on every thorn.
First, lay down your head
then one by one
let go of all distractions.
Embrace the light and let it guide you
beyond the winds of desire.
There you will find a spring, and nourished by it see waters;
like a tree you will bear fruit forever.
RumiÂ
–Translation by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi
A poem by Harris Khalique
She and I
She and I would talk of wonder and dread,
of desires and disasters,
boys and girls pacing up and down
the sidewalk beside us,
milk she forgot to put back in the fridge,
writing tables, bookshelves, table lamps, kitchens,
plumbers and fixers.
She and I would talk of families, spouses and
siblings,
pets in the neighbourhood
who have the same faith as their keepers,
of lying to loved ones about sex and night outs,
travels,
friends found when travelling,
hat racks in aircrafts with defective latches,
unkempt interiors of slow moving trains,
rivers, mountains, forests, deserts,
oceans and dreams.
She and I would talk of our country,
dust can hold it together for so long,
of Gog and Magog
licking up the walls of sanity,
of people and their struggle,
wounds unhealed and seasons we fear.
The sibilance of sorrow creeping behind us,
we wished we chat till the world ends
and the world always ended.
Â
From: between You & Your Love. Selected and New Poems Fazleesons. Preface by Dr Tariq Rahman. Compiled by Adnan Sattar, Karachi 2004
About Harris read here
Like Children
Recognize that your imagination and your thinking
and your sense perception are reed canes
that children cut and pretend are horsies.
The Knowing of mystic Lovers is different.
The empirical, sensory, sciences
are like a donkey loaded with books,
or like the makeup woman’s makeup.
It washes
off.
But if you lift the baggage rightly, it will give you joy.
Don’t carry your knowledge-load for some selfish reason.
Deny your desires and willfulness,
and a real mount may appear under you.
Don’t be satisfied with the name of HU,
with just words about it.
Experience that breathing.
From books and words come fantasy,
and sometimes, from fantasy
comes union.
Rumi
Version by Coleman Barks
Ajmer - my scuttled travel plans
Ajmer Shareef is a spiritual centre-point in South Asia. It is not just another Muslim Saint’s dergah but represents the glorious tradition of inclusiveness and spirituality beyond the formal boundaries of religion, caste and creed. This is why it has become a fascinating rallying point for South Asians,  regardless of what religion they profess and/or  practice.Â
Next week, the death anniversary celebrations of Khawaja Moinuddin Chishti will start in Ajmer. Yesterday I was told that my visa processing would take ages and the outcome will be uncertain. The near-impossibility of getting there made me a little depressed. Yes I was planning to undertake this [mini]-pilgrimage this month.
Damn these visas and official hurdles. At the end of the day these have proved to be meaningless, only adding to the bad blood between the people of the two countries.
My friend Salman who lives next to the dergah and is from the line of shrine-keepers, wrote a piece for the Hindustan Times where he talks of the forthcoming Urs, its significance and place in India. Salman is a young and dynamic student of Sufism. May he stay the course! Read his article here.
Photo above was taken in 2006: On a crisp sunny-wintry afternoon, the pilgrim Qawwals sang in praise of the Khawaja. This was such an impromptu performance - I recall a verse - sab ki bigri hui, bana dey - Khawaja (Help all those who come to you - oops, this is a horrendous translation)…
What The Ancients Did For Us - the Islamic World
Mother Goddess - Indus Valley
“Archeological evidence from related cultures suggests that Indus Valley mythology was centered in the idea of female power and Goddess cults…”
Music Master
Rumi - Version by Coleman Barks
What is arrogance?
Rumi - Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
New translations of Parveen Shakir
The translations can be accessed here.
Sufi Zikr - inspiration for a painting
This is a painting that I revisited and converted its earlier abstract form into a calligraphic experiment. Now the challenge was that in addition to the lack of training in oil painting…
How Art made the World
A Little poem
Waves of anger and fear…
 W.H. Auden’s “September 1, 1939,” is on my mind..
Ominous shadows
 Raunaqe bazaar-o- mehfil kam nahin hai aj bhee
Saneha is sheher mein koi magar honay ko hai
The rescued letter of Mahatama Gandhi
 A rare letter by Gandhi weeks before his assassination was saved from an auction by the Indian Government. The contents of the letter are most interesting. The great old man of India calling for tolerance towards Muslims..! A forgotten leaf of history by many especially the bigots in India. Read entry here >>
Disaster (once again) - an appeal for help
Life must be a living hell for the millions made homeless by the recent cyclone and floods in Pakistan. It reminds one of the horrible tragedy of October earthquake in 2006 that thousands are still trying to cope with. This is the time to pray and do all that we can for the victims of this natural disaster. Article here >>
My Journey (Mera Safar): Ali Sardar Jafri
I came across this decent translation of his poem Mera Safar here. IÂ enjoyed reading it again after ages and thought this must be shared with friends here. This is also the poem where Jafri hints at his immortality… Full article here >>