Last year, I came across a Charles Homer Haskins lecture that Dr Annemarie Schimmel delivered in 1993. Aside from the amazing events and milestones of her life, what struck me was her immersion in an infinite ‘learning’ cycle. I am reproducing some lines from the lecture and a dazzling poem of hers below. Dr Schimmel left this world in 2003 for another voyage. As an extra-ordinary scholar (over 150 publications to her credit), a Rumi disciple and an odd Sufi herself, the world is not the same place without her.

However, her erudite and passionate writings will continue to warm our hearts. Sang-i-Meel Publishers (http://www.sang-e-meel.com/) in Pakistan have done a huge favour by re-printing selected titles for the Pakistani audience. (more…)

I rediscovered this exquisite poem by Parveen Shakir after years. This is an intense love poem of rare beauty. It is composite, taut and melodic. I have tried to translate it - however, the impossibility of a translation haunts me..

More so, the reality of days gone by, the visions lost haunts me even more..

Dedicated to those who stand by the sea of evening colours and moods and want to merge with their expanse. And, to someone who lives with time present and time past with equal ease..

yay haseen shaam apni

yay haseen shaam apni
abhi jiss meiN ghul rahi hai
teray parahan kee khushboo
abhi jiss meiN khil rahay heiN
meray khawab kay shagoofay
zera dair ka hai manzar

zera dair meiN ufq par
khilay ga koi sitaara
teri simt daik kar woh
karay ga koi ishara
teray dil ko aayay ga phir
kissi yaad ka bullawa
koi qissa-ay judaaee, koi kaar-ay naamukamal
koi khawab-ay naa shagufta, koi baat kehnay wali

humeiN chaahiyay tha milna
kissi ahad-ay mehrbaaN meiN
kissi khawab kay yaqeeN meiN
kissi aur aasmaaN par
kissi aur sarzameeN meiN
humeiN chahiyay tha milna…

Here is the odd translation rendered by this blogger.

This melting evening of ours
Where everything dissolves
the scent of your clothes
the blossoming
sprouts of my dreams
All dissolves

A deferred vision, this is

In a little while,
a star will emerge on the horizon
To gaze at you
Meaningfully…!
Your heart shall then reminisce
the echo of a memory
The tale of a separation,
Of an unfinished moment
Of unblossomed dreams, things unsaid

We ought to have met
In times, considerate
In pursuit of attainable dreams
On a different sky
On a different earth
We ought to have met

Picture by Raza Rumi

Globally, the Tibet issue has been blown beyond belief by the media. I am compelled to ask that over one million civilians are dead in Iraq for no reason - no weapons of mass destruction and no chemical weapon stockpiles have been discovered - there is a stench of corpses and ashes everywhere. A civilisation has been destroyed, ruined. Has anyone inquired about this barbaric conduct of the so-called “civilised” West?

Has anyone questioned why all laws, rights, Geneva conventions are being violated at the Guantanamo Bay; and why there is a genocide of sorts underway in Afghanistan. (more…)

A regular maintenance procedure meant that the website was inaccessible. Many thanks for those who wrote to inquire about Jahane Rumi’s status. But I often wonder about my inexplicable, every day relationship with the blog and how in less than two years, blogging is such an essential part of living.

Sometimes it can be traumatic not to open the dashboard and check the comments or post the poem one remembers or the thought that emerges out of nowhere.

Well, its good to be back.

Finally, I wrote a piece on Delhi ……

Delhi’s present day chaos cannot belittle its grand past, which created a civilisation and shaped the contours of Indo-Muslim identity

When travels come, they come in battalions. Such has been the trajectory of my recent sojourns to Delhi. Travel to India can be, at best, random and left to a game of chance, given how the officialdom on both sides of the border ensures that people don’t cross real and imagined boundaries. Coincidence, or as my less rational side would say, the calling of the Delhi and Ajmer Saints, enabled me to land in Delhi twice in less than three months.

My most recent visit is in some measure courtesy of TFT. My obituary on Urdu’s towering writer Qurratulain Hyder in TFT last August was read by the immensely talented Rakshanda Jalil, media coordinator at Jamia Millia Islamia. A few months later she sent me an invitation to talk and present a paper at a seminar on the legacy of Qurratulain Hyder. There was no way that I could have refused this invite. Ms Hyder is my all time favourite writer; Delhi, an incomparable city to visit; and above all the opportunity to explore Jamia, a historical seat of learning associated with luminaries such as Maulana Azad and Dr Zakir Hussain could not be missed.

Delhi is not an ordinary South Asian metropolis. Its present day chaos cannot belittle its grand past, which created a civilisation and shaped the contours of Indo-Muslim identity, nourished the Urdu language, produced the finest verse in Hindustani and Urdu and fashioned a fabulous architectural legacy. This is why Delhi fascinates me endlessly. Each time I visit, I find a mohallah of the old dilli that concerns an important event or personality. Even better, another hitherto unknown monument is introduced to me; it is like a newly discovered continuation of an enjoyable book. One has only to casually drive around the city to find that it is dotted with monuments. I cannot complain that they are neglected in India; considering that Pakistan’s mighty administrators erect Shaminaas on Mughal monuments for personal parties, how can one grumble about the infidel neighbours! (more…)

 On the blessed day of birth of our beloved Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), I am posting some of his sayings as we know them through Hadith. The reason why I like the selection was that these words evoke his humanity - as a counterpoint to the deification done by some Muslims and vilification done by those who think that Crusades are not over.

I have always adhered to the belief that the Prophet was sent as a ‘Blessing for all Mankind’ - Rehmat ul lil Alimeen -and therefore no distinction could be made between one individual and another on the basis of religion, caste, colour and creed. The Prophet never made a distinction and nor should we. I am reminded of his prayer: ‘Oh God! I bear witness that all Thy creatures are brothers ’ (quoted in the Sunnan-i-Abu Da’ud). (more…)

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…)

Nukta is difficult to decipher -My personal interpretation has to do with the nukta of Being - like the letter Alif that is Single and a Whole. So we, the created are not different from the Creator. We the lovers and not separate from the Beloved. It is this unity of being and existence that is one and can be reduced to one little nukta - a dot - that has all the answers and comforts we spend our lifetimes attaining.

The Point or Dot is the starting point of anything or everthing.The Dot explodes with Big Bang. And becomes universe. the explosion’s effects are dynamics. The Universe continues to expand. In this universe there are microcosms the earth. man his spirit, etc… All emanates from one point.

“aik nokthe vich gul mukdee”’ -Here is a translation by Suman

At this one point, all talk ends.
Hold tight to this point, forget your calculations,
Leave the miserable state of unbelief,
Do not torment yourself with the fear of death and hell,
For these are imaginary fears.
Only into such a house will truth the enter.
At this one point, all talk ends.

For no reason you abrade your forehead on the ground,
You display your reverence at the mehraab,
You recite the kalma to impress a listener,
But knowledge does not enter your heart.

Can the truth stay hidden?
At this one point, all talk ends.

Many return from Mecca as hajjis,
With blue shawls across their shoulders.
They profit from Hajj ,
Who can admire such behavior?
Can the truth stay hidden?
At this one point, all talk ends.

Some withdraw to the forest,
Eat a single grain a day.
They exhaust their bodies foolishly,
And return home in bad shape,
Their life sucked dry with useless fasting and prayer.
At this one point, all talk ends.

Hold fast to your murshid,
Become a devotee of all creation,
Intoxicated, carefree,
Without desire, indifferent to the world,
Let your heart be fully clean.
Says Bulha, can the truth then be stopped?

At this one point, all talk ends.

It has many layers of meaning and can be read in more than one way. On one point the matter ends. (Muzaffar Ghaffar); In a dot the whole mystery is solved (Saeed Ahmad); It’s all in one contained ( K S Duggal);Wisdom is contained in a single point!( J R Puri)

Found this post on a web-list:

The “Creator” (according to a saying of the Prophet)
says:

“I AM for you, what you think of Me”

The more I contemplate about this saying the more I
get convinced that each one of us `creat` a unique
“Creator” for ourselves which is according to our
specific understanding of “Him”. However, “He” is NOT
what each one of us think Him to be as mentioned by
Him in Quran - “And there is NOTHING that can be
compared with Him” (Verse:5 Chapter112)

The other saying of the Prophet is also extremely
meaningful - “the one who knows himself knows HIS
Lord”. A friend opened a new window in my thought process
by pointing out to the last part of the saying of the
Prophet i.e. `knows HIS Lord`. Here, the
hadith does not mention `knows THE Lord` instead it
says `knows HIS Lord` which `personalises the matter.
Hence, personal understanding of the `Creator` is
different for each person. So, each
one of us has a `personal God or no God`.

Courtesy Altaf at Thinking People

A budding writer from Lahore visits the city of his beloved author.

I was [pleasantly -why lie] surprised this morning to discover a story on yours truly with the byline -Raza Rumi, A Pakistani About Town. It is a well written piece - not because that it concerns me but it sort of collates the various things I said and did during my recent visit and twists them into an engaging narrative. Never mind the less flattering description as a “cliched tourist”. My delusions about being a traveller were sort of questioned.

I still have to write about that visit earlier this month when I stayed at the Jamia Millia Islamia to attend a seminar on Qurratulain Hyder, the towering Urdu littérateur. During this visit, I met a number of interesting people and participated in some lively sessions that brought me much closer to the intellectual core of Delhi. My friend Mayank Austen Soofi, whom I finally saw after all the blog exchanges, attended the seminar at Jamia and later accompanied me to the Nizamuddin dergah. Of course Sadia Dehlvi was there as always - walking me through the chaotic moods of Delhi.

All I can say is that one has to be careful with bloggers and journos. Who knows when mundane conversations turn into eloquent posts and stories, only to unexpectedly appear in your inbox a few days later.

When I get my act together I will write about what I had to say about Qurratulain Hyder’s dual belonging.

While I continue to overcome my indolence, please read this accountby The Delhi Walla. (more…)

The ultimate frustration of not being able to vote, sitting miles away from home, was somewhat compensated by the moving images of the Kosovo’s declaration of independence.

I have lived and worked in Kosovo for a couple years - and it was a delightful experience despite the after effects of war and tragedies. Independence from Serbia is something that runs through the Kosovar collective consciousness and defines the large, attainable dream. (more…)

by Mozaffar

God’s wisdom is beyond comprehension.

The 10th of Muharram is simultaneously the most celebrated day in the Islamic Calendar, and simultaneously the most sorrowful day of the Islamic Calendar.

It celebrates the day that God saved the Prophet Moses -p- and his people from the clutches of the Pharaoh.

It mourns the day that God allowed the grandson of the Prophet Muhammad -p- and his people to be slaughtered by the clutches of Yazid. (more…)

This blogger has been travelling since the last two weeks: visiting the various Sufi shrines in India and meeting up old and new friends. And, after years of silence, my inner music found a voice. But the gods had other plans.

Since the 27th of that wretched December, everything has been overshadowed by the ghastly murder of Pakistan’s best known and perhaps the only national leader. (more…)

Came across this brilliant quote from Einstein:

“In their struggle for the ethical good, teachers of religion must have the stature to give up the doctrine of a personal God, that is, give up that source of fear and hope which in the past placed such vast power in the hands of priests.” (more…)

Excerpts from here:

•  Sentence of death is allowed only through the process of justice, but even then, forgiveness is better. “Nor take life – which Allah has made sacred – except for just cause…” (17:33). (more…)

Taslima Nasrin is now a “sensation” of another kind in India. She has attracted the attention of those segments of Indian media that love to sell anything that brings Islam and Muslims related controversies into the public domain. (more…)

I posted an article on female stereotyping at  All Things Pakistan blog. There was a bit of discussion but I was also chided as being partial, class-ist and insensitive to men.

Here was this humble blogger, on the defensive: (more…)