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
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)
the two insomnias
Allah Hoo by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan
"Allah Hoo" from the Monsoon Wedding soundtrack (courtesy NPR)
Lovers have nothing to do with existence
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
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
On the bank of the river
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
Chal Way Bullehya Chal O’thay Chaliyay – Let’s go where everyone is blind
I have returned, like the new year (Rumi)
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)
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.
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’
Don’t talk about the journey (Rumi)
Take simplicity as your companion
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.
Religion of the heart
RAKSHANDA JALIL writing heremendicants. 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
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.
Bulleh! to me, I am not known
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.
“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?
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.
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.
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
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
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.


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.