Jahane Rumi In search of the unsearchable: O, my soul! where would you find your house?

15Mar/100

I am a child of love

I profess the religion of love,
Love is my religion and my faith.
My mother is love
My father is love
My prophet is love
My God is love
I am a child of love
I have come only to speak of love

- Jalaluddin Rumi

13Mar/100

Abr mi barad-o man shovm-e az yar-e judaa (The cloud weeps…)

Amir Khusrau's lofty couplet

Abr mi barad-o man shovm-e az yar-e judaa
Choon kunam dil becheneen roz zedildar judaa.
Abr baraan wa man-o yar satadah ba-widaa
Man judaa girya kunaan, abr judaa, yaar judaa

The cloud weeps, and I become separated from my friend -
How can I separate my heart from my heart's friend on such a day.
The cloud weeping, and I and the friend standing, bidding farewell -
I weeping separately, the clouds separately, the friend separately..

(trans. A. Schimmel)

Also see this

11Mar/100

the two insomnias

“When I am with you, we stay up all night.
When you're not here, I can't go to sleep.
Praise God for those two insomnias!
And the difference between them.”
* Jalal ad-Din Rumi
10Mar/101

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan – Man Kunto Maula

4Mar/100

Allah Hoo by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan

"Allah Hoo" from the Monsoon Wedding soundtrack (courtesy NPR)

3Mar/101

Lovers have nothing to do with existence

The lover's food is the love of the bread;
no bread need be at hand:
no one who is sincere in his love is a slave to existence.
Lovers have nothing to do with existence;
lovers have the interest without the capital.
Without wings they fly around the world;
without hands they carry the polo ball from the field.
That dervish who caught the scent of Reality
used to weave baskets even though his hands had been cut off.
Lovers have pitched their tents in nonexistence;
they are of one quality and one essence, as nonexistence is.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
28Feb/100

Magic moments – incredible photos on mysticism

Today, a magical photographer and a brave journalist Iason Athanasiadis, wrote to me after reading some of my comments in NYT. This is such a small world after all. Iason has also lived in Pakistan and some of his beautiful pictures can be found here (I am posting an image from Pakistan below from his collection). What a treasure it is. I am so grateful that Iason got in touch..

Here is another one from Iran - absolutely stunning...

25Feb/100

His form has passed away and he has become a mirror (Rumi)

Sunlight has recently offered two versions/translations of Rumi's Mathnawi story of the dervish Bayazid Bestami
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
BESTAMI
That magnificent dervish, Bayazid Bestami,
came to his disciples and said,
"I am God."
It was night, and he was drunk with his ecstasy.
20Feb/100

Ask us about the lion of God

This caravan is not bringing our baggage -- it has

none of the fire of our Friend.

Though the trees have all turned green, they

have caught no scent of our spring.

Your spirit may be a rosegarden, but its heart

has not been wounded by our thorn.

Your heart may be an ocean of realities, but its

boiling does not compare with that of our shore.

Although the mountains are very steady -- by

God, they do not have our steadiness.

The spirit drunk with the morning wine has not

even caught a scent of our winesickness.

Venus herself, the minstrel of heaven, has not

the capacity for our work.

Ask us about the lion of God -- every lion has

not our backbone.

Show not Shams-I Tabrizi's coin to him who

has not our fineness!

-- Ghazal (Ode) 695

Translation by William C. Chittick

"The Sufi Path of Love"

SUNY Press, Albany, 1983

19Feb/103

I am enslaved to fate, of all else say no more – Rumi

" I am enslaved to fate, of all else say no more

With a sweet tongue speak, else I plea say no more

Speak not of troubles, of treasures, tell me more

And if of this you know not, be not troubled, say no more

I have gone insane, Love found me, then whispered in my ear

'I am here, cry not aloud, curse yourself not, say no more'

I said ' O Love it is other than Thee that I fear'

Said ' it may thus appear, yet it is not so, say no more

I speak in you ear, to you bring secrets near

Speak with your head, confirm a nod, say no more'

I asked, ' What do I see? Is it an angel or a man? '

Said ' no more an angel than a man, is another, say no more'

'Tell me what it is, why withhold, why the flames of my torment fan'

Said ' just be tormented, confused, say no more

For leaving this colorful and false abode, you have made no plan

Rise up and just depart, leave this home, say no more'

Maulana Jalaluddin Rumi

16Feb/100

On the bank of the river

On the bank of the river,
water is grudged by that one alone
who is blind to the flowing stream.
~~~~~~~~~~
Bar lab-e ju bokhl-e âb ân-râ bovad
ku ze ju-ye âb nâ-binâ bovad
-- Mathnawi II:894
Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski
"Rumi: Daylight"
Threshold Books, 1994
Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra

On the bank of the river,water is grudged by that one alonewho is blind to the flowing stream.
~~~~~~~~~~
Bar lab-e ju bokhl-e âb ân-râ bovadku ze ju-ye âb nâ-binâ bovad
-- Mathnawi II:894Version by Camille and Kabir Helminski"Rumi: Daylight"Threshold Books, 1994Persian transliteration courtesy of Yahyá Monastra

7Feb/104

Chal Way Bullehya Chal O’thay Chaliyay – Let’s go where everyone is blind

Chal Way Bullehya Chal O’thay Chaliyay
Jithay Saaray Annay
Na Koi Saadee Zaat PichHanay
Tay Na Koi Saanu Mannay
***
O’ Bulleh Shah let’s go there
Where everyone is blind
Where no one recognizes our caste (or race, or family name)
And where no one believes in us
***
Ab to jaag Musaffir pyare
Raeen gayi latke taare
Kar le aj karni da weera
Mod na ho si aawen tera
***
Awake, dear traveller, you've got to move on.
Trailing its stars, the night is gone.
Do what you have to do, do it today.
You will never be back this way.
Your companions are calling.
Let us go.
***
Awake, dear traveller, you've got to move on.
Trailing its stars, the night is gone.
A pearl, a ruby, the touchstone and dice
With all that you thirst by the waterside.
Awake, dear traveller, you've got to move on.
Trailing its stars, the night is gone.
Below a modern rendition of these verses by the inimitable Meekal Hasan Band. They have been instrumental in reintroducing Sufi poetry among the youth of our country.
3Feb/100

I have returned, like the new year (Rumi)

I am posting Sunlight translations of Rumi's  Ghazal (Ode) 1375, from  "Diwan-e-Shamsi" ("The Collection of Shams"), rendered by Nader Khalili, and Prof. William Chittick:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
i've come again
like a new year
to crash the gate
of this old prison
i've come again
to break the teeth and claws
of this man-eating
monster we call life
6Jan/101

Bulleh Shah’s admission

Bulleh-a aashiq hoyiyon Rabb da,
Hoai Malamat Lakh Tenon Kafir Kafir aakhdey,
toon aaho aaho aakh

(Bulleh Shah)

Bulleh lover of G-d, a million blames occur
Your title is apostate, answer yes, yes, so it is.
(translation by JH)

16Nov/097

Blogging without borders

My piece published by the Walkerly Magazine

The internet has demolished the iron curtain between Pakistan and India almost overnight, writes Pakistani blogger and writer Raza Rumi.

I don’t need to tell you about the multi-billion dollar enterprise that is the animosity between India and Pakistan. Suffice to say that the birth of a new nation-state on the Indo-Pak sub-continent was among the bloodiest of all time, entailing the migration of nearly 10 million of the wretched of the earth who had to find a new home.

Millions of deaths and three wars later, the bitterness refuses to go away and the interaction of the two countries’ populations has been very limited over 60 years. As a result, not all Pakistanis have the privilege of visiting India. I happen to be one of those who, by sheer coincidence, have been visiting India primarily for work or cultural exchange.

My forays into journalism coincided with my alter ego as a blogger. Purely by accident, I discovered the world of blogging, driven by the desire to post my pieces published by The Friday Times (TFT), a weekly Pakistani magazine. Trying to avoid creating a paid website, the blog template came to my rescue.

17Oct/091

When will my beloved visit my courtyard

The soulful poetry of Khawaja Ghulam Farid (1845-1901) best represents the essence of Seraiki language. Diwan-e-Farid, a collection of the poet’s verses, happens to be an outstanding masterpiece of Seraiki mystical poetry that reaches the poetic excellence and transcendence found in the messages of Rumi and Iqbal in terms of exploring the metaphysics of knowledge and being.

Shahzad Qaiser has undertaken a major labour of love by rendering the Diwan-e-Farid into English and issuing another separate volume – The Metaphysics of Khawaja Ghulam Farid – that explores the vastness of meaning in Khawaja Farid’s poetry. It is rare these days to find a civil servant who can spare time to devote himself to the cause of letters. In contrast to past traditions, present day civil service has become a vehicle for playing along with palace intrigues and extracting opportunities from the vicissitudes of power. Rejecting this trend, Qaiser appears to have shunned the ordinary power-mongering culture and delved deeper into the mysteries of divine love. Therefore, his endeavour to search for the inner meanings of Khawaja Ghulam Farid’s poetry has been eminently successful. These two volumes are highly readable and well-presented for specialists and lay readers alike.

Khawaja Ghulam Farid was born in Chachran, located in the south of present day Pakistan’s Punjab province. His spiritual ancestry was somewhere linked with the revered Baba Farid Ganj-e-Shakar of Pakpattan and hence he was named after the master saint of the family. It is the metaphysical understanding which talks of reality as the divine essence and removes the difference between Ahad and Wahad and one and many that constitutes the doctrine of ‘oneness of being’

28Sep/090

Don’t talk about the journey (Rumi)

come come come
my endless desires
come come come
come my beloved
come my sweetheart
26Sep/091

Take simplicity as your companion

O, how often have knowledge and wit
become as deadly to the wayfarer as any demon or bandit!
Most of those destined for Paradise are simple-minded,
so that they escape from the mischief of philosophy.
Strip yourself of useless learning and vanity,
so that every moment Divine mercy may descend upon you.
15Sep/091

What a fine, broad kingdom

Another fine poem by Rumi - translation followed by the original

In the world there are invisible ladders,

leading step by step to the summit of heaven.

There is a different ladder for every group,

a different heaven for every path.

Each one is ignorant of the other's condition in this wide kingdom which

has no end or beginning.

9Sep/090

Religion of the heart

RAKSHANDA JALIL writing here
Sufism, often considered exotic and esoteric, belongs to ordinary people of faith.
Sufism: The Heart of Islam; Sadia Dehlvi, 2009, HarperCollins, p 384
By the early thirteenth century Delhi had emerged as the beating heart of the Sufi movement that had sprung in Central Asia and swept across much of north India. Sultan Shamsuddin Iltutmish (1210-35) had set himself up as the ruler of Hindustan and e stablished his capital at Delhi. Central Asia and Iran had fallen to the Mongol hordes and a virtual exodus had begun — of scholars, holy men and wandering
mendicants. While Ajmer and Nagaur remained important centres of the Chistiya silsila, Delhi was fast gaining popularity as the axis of the Islamic east. And it was to Delhi that they came – to set up hospices, to gather the faithful around them, and to spread the word about a new kind of Islam. In the years to come, the Islam of the Sufis spread
9Sep/092

Raag Bhitai

Please play this fabulous rendition of Bhitai Raag at the dergha of Shah Abdul latif Bhitai in Sindh. I am completely in love with this piece.

Bhitai Raag, Sindh

6Sep/090

Bulleh! to me, I am not known

My dear friend Nabila has sent this poem that was posted on the Poetry Chaikhana website --It is well known but I loved this translation. At the end there are some comments that elucidate Bulleh's life and message. Please also see this piece of mine based on a longer paper that I authored last year.
Bulleh! to me, I am not known  - By Bulleh Shah (1680 - 1758)
Not a believer inside the mosque, am I
Nor a pagan disciple of false rites
Not the pure amongst the impure
Neither Moses, nor the Pharaoh
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Not in the holy Vedas, am I
Nor in opium, neither in wine
Not in the drunkard`s intoxicated craze
Niether awake, nor in a sleeping daze
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
In happiness nor in sorrow, am I
Neither clean, nor a filthy mire
Not from water, nor from earth
Neither fire, nor from air, is my birth
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Not an Arab, nor Lahori
Neither Hindi, nor Nagauri
Hindu, Turk, nor Peshawari
Nor do I live in Nadaun
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
Secrets of religion, I have not known
From Adam and Eve, I am not born
I am not the name I assume
6Jul/093

Bulleh Shah – on rejecting caste

A popular kafi of Bulleh Shah, sung by Abida Parveen "BULHE NU SAMJHAWAN AAINAN BHAINAN TE BHARJAIAN" earlier posted as " A stove is better than Bulleh" am posting its english translation thanks to Shahidain's invaluable contributions.

People discouraged Bulleh Shah from accepting  Inayat Shah as his master and said " Bulleh you are a scholar and a descendent of of prophet Mohammad (pbuh). Does it seem right to you to go to an ordinary gardener of low caste and become his disciple? Is it not embarrassing?" But Bulleh showed great love and reverence for his master and did not pay any heed to this objection.

27Jun/090

“The Blocked Road”

I wish I knew what you wanted.
You block the road and won't give me rest.
You pull my lead-rope one way, then the other.
You act cold, my darling!
Do you hear what I say?

22Jun/094

Pakistan’s martial state is a self-perpetuating reality

The Taliban phenomenon was erroneously, and rather dangerously, projected as a herald of a new dawn

The Pakistani state policy of nurturing jihad factories over the decades is staring back at its architects, supporters and sponsors. Zafar Hilaly, a close aide of the late Benazir Bhutto, recently divulged in his memoirs that BB had confessed how the support to the Taliban was perhaps her most regrettable mistake. She could recognise it was more of a function of being out of the power ambit for nearly a decade. The compulsions of exercising power and playing it by the rules set by the national security obsessed state are perhaps germane to Pakistan's creation as an insecure postcolonial state that was neither prepared not committed to reverse the colonial modes of governance.

20Jun/090

Urs celebrations at Ajmer

AJMER: The 797th Urs of the 12th century Sufi saint, Khwaja Moinuddin Chishti, commenced on Friday with the flag-hosting ceremony at the Buland Darwaza.

About 200 people from the Gori family of Bhilwara, headed by Fakrudin Gori, came to Ajmer. As per age-old traditions, the family is authorized to hoist the Urs flag.

10Jun/093

Sufi hearts in Delhi

  Published in The Friday Times (May 22 issue)

   Raza Rumi discusses a new book on Sufism by Sadia Dehlvi

Getting a visa to India is a nightmare for ordinary mortals. My application was not very politely returned last month with technical objections. It was only when a letter from Harper Collins arrived that the High Commission rather efficaciously allowed me to enter enemy territory, that too with special instructions that cantonments were out of bounds. I guess the South Asian officialdoms have yet to discover that Google Earth has permanently altered the shape of boundaries and secrecy.

6Jun/093

His Sun always shines within me

You call him a moon,
yet moonlight fades.
You call him a king,
yet kingdoms fall.

How often you say,
Wake up, you'll miss the sunrise.
But His Sun always shines within me.
How can I miss the sunrise?

-- Version by Jonathan Star and Shahram Shiva
A Garden Beyond Paradise
Bantam Books, 1992

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25May/090

In the company of lovers

I am drunk and you are insane
tell me, who will lead us home?
How many times have I asked you not to drink so much
for I see no sober soul in town.
Come to the tavern my dearest and taste the wine of love
for the soul is joyous only in the company of lovers.
The tavern of love is your livelihood
your income and expenses, the wine.
Be careful, not to trust a sober soul
with even one drop of this wine.
Go on playing your lute, my drunken gypsy but tell me,
between the two of us, who is more drunk?
As I left my house a Sufi approached me,
in his glance I saw a hundred gardens.
He swayed from side to side like a ship without an anchor,
while a hundred reasonable men watched on enviously.
Where are you from? I asked him.
He replied, "Half from Turkistan and half from Farghaneh,
half from water and clay and half from soul and heart,
half from the edge of the sea and half from the depths of the coean."

Rumi -- Ghazal (Ode) 2398
Translated by Azima Melita Kolin
and Maryam Mafi
Rumi: Hidden Music
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd, 2001

20May/090

The Fragile Vial

I need a mouth as wide as the sky
to say the nature of a True Person, language
as large as longing.

The fragile vial inside me often breaks.
No wonder I go mad and disappear for three days
every month with the moon.