Virginia synagogue doubles as mosque for Ramadan
Khusrau, Meera, Kabir: The Fluid Self
An essay contributed by the celebrated singer,writer and spiritualist Vidya Rao
I often ask myself the question why I choose, above all things, to sing, and then to sing a traditional gayaki like thumri. The images that are gleaned from its poetic texts are so often open to misunderstand: pining nayikas, heartless piyas, rakish Krishnas, divine Rams. I ask myself that question again today when tradition is in danger of being smothered by sectarianism, communal violence and a whole culture lies bleeding.
I turn to the music itself for my answer. It has never failed me before it does not fail me now.
Prince Charles on “East and West: Parables of the Soul”
Prince Charles was recently in Konya, Turkey on a state visit that coincides with Rumi's 800th birth anniversary. Commenting on the appeal of Rumi globally, he said: "Is it perhaps the depth of yearning of the heart which we all feel and which he [Rumi]understands and describes so well."
When asked what he thought of the shrine he added: "Fascinating, fascinating, there's never enough time."
He also made a speech there which is an amazing read. I am posting a few excepts here.
God's purpose for man is to acquire a seeing eye and an understanding heart.
In an age of increasing ignorance, intolerance and mis-understanding it is perhaps worth reflecting on the one element that has the potential to unite us all beyond the World-Wide Web or globalization. That element lies in the mystery of the heart. Is it not strange that at a time in history when every taboo has seemingly been broken; every sacred cow slaughtered, that the very idea of mysticism itself the practice of the mystery of the heart seems to have become of far less significance?
And yet have not the founders of the World's greatest religions all spoken in one way or another of the need to enter the temple of the heart? Why? Because, surely, is it not the mystery within, when once unlocked, that is able to inspire the kind of inner understanding which can break asunder the law of cause and effect that so undermines our attempts at reconciliation?
Therefore, what better occasion and what better place than here, near the resting place of Mevlana Jalaluddin Rumi, to re-dedicate ourselves to the purpose of re-acquiring and understanding heart
Full text here
Of Autumn and Roses
I sent this poem to Fahmida Riaz a few days ago to comfort her. Little did I know that there would be another death of a close one; and I had to read it again to console myself!
Autumn Rose Elegy
Which way is it?
You broke the cage and flew.
You heard the drum that calls you home.
You left this humiliating shelf,
This disorienting desert
Where we're given wrong directions.
What use now a crown?
You've become the sun.
No need for a belt:
You've slipped out of your waist!
I have heard that near the end
You were eyes looking at soul.
No looking now.
You live inside the soul.
You're the strange autumn rose
That led the winter wind in
By withering.
You're rain soaking everywhere
From cloud to ground.
No bother of talking.
Flowing silence and sweet sleep
Beside the Friend
Why I love Pakistan? Top 5 reasons
The Civilization
Pakistan is not a recent figment but a continuation of 5000 years of history: quite sheepishly, I admit, that I am an adherent of the view held by many historians that the Indus valley and the Indus man were always somewhat distinct from their brethren across the Indus. I do not wish to venture into this debate but I am proud as an inheritor of Harappa, Mohenjo-Daro and Mehrgarh (not strictly in this order) and this makes me feel rooted and connected to my soil as well as ancient human civilizations and cultures.
It also makes me happy that no matter how much the present-day media hysteria about Pakistan (and “natives†in general) diminishes my country and region, nothing can take away this heritage and high points of my ancestral culture. Pakistan is not just Indus civilization it is a hybrid cultural ethos: the Greek, Gandhara, the central Asian, Persian, Aryan and the Islamic influences merge into this river and define my soul how can I not be proud of this?