Sunday 26 July 2009

A Wake Up Call

Sometimes in life, you need a shock treatment to wake you up. This morning proved to be a wakeup call for me.

Previous night’s joviality from a friend's wedding was still fresh in my mind when I began the day with the excitement of Halwa Pori breakfast with friends and a wedding of another buddy planned for the night.

After setting out the table, I decided to quickly make Sher Khorma for the guest, with a maid by my side who was cooking parathas. During a casual talk, she started to weep. She shared that she wanted to visit some syed peer this evening. On my display of curiosity to know the reason, she said that her husband is jobless. She further said that she left her children sleeping today, and dint cook breakfast either. I wondered why dint she cook anything. She looked at me with tears flowing down her cheeks and replied,

″I swear, there was nothing to cook.″

Her tears drowned me in the filth of my own contentment. Her words pierced my heart. And her distress left me paralyzed and speechless.

She continued to work leaving my eyes fixed on all the food stacked in cabinets, a refrigerator packed with fruits, meals of all kinds and so much extra that was just there to delight… and her hands... that were rolling paratha for someone else while her own children were asleep with an empty stomach.

An echo of my father telling me stories about Ahl e Bait AS e Rasool SAW, and the three days when they had a fast and on all three nights they gave away all that they had to a hungry beggar.

Every single thing that I ever read about Imam Ali Ibn Hussain As and Imam Ali As, that they used to carry bags full of food and used to secretly deliver it to the doorstep of the poor every night, flashed back. My head bowed down in embarrassment in front of Rasool Allah SAW remembering that he said that you are not momin if your stomachs are full while your neighbors sleep hungry.

Her tears were a slap on my face. They exhibit my ignorance, my selfishness, my ego. While I was busy showing off my love for God... talking about ISHQ… I overlooked the ones whom He loves the most.

I found myself isolated in a fort with walls of ego that are plastered with contentment of being right! Thick curtains of ignorance have darkened the surroundings. Any beam of light that enters, gets lost in the hollowness of the adobe.

Her tears did crack a wall. They will stay with me every time I eat. It now scares me to spend hundreds on just a meal for my own self… for the sake of enjoyment and not to survive. That same money can give such families enough food to last for two days.

It’s painful when our fort trembles down, in the same way as if someone lived in dungeons throughout his live and for the first times he opens his eyes that are sensitive to the light.




photo credit

Friday 24 July 2009

I am a Sculptor, a Molder of Form

I am a sculptor, a molder of form.
In every moment I shape an idol.
But then, in front of you, I melt them down
I can rouse a hundred forms
and fill them with spirit,
but when I look into your face,
I want to throw them in the fire.
My souls spills into yours and is blended.
Because my soul has absorbed your fragrance,
I cherish it.
Every drop of blood I spill
informs the earth,
I merge with my Beloved
when I participate in love.
In this house of mud and water,
my heart has fallen to ruins.
Enter this house, my Love, or let me leave

Dewan e Shamsi
Rumi




photo

Tuesday 21 July 2009

The Journey Begins..





The stars look dimmer tonight and the grieving silence of the air signals a storm is bond to come. Hearts feel weaker as the seconds pass by. The thought of departing from the sight of my Lord is leaving even more burden on my heart… darkness just keeps thickening... and the stillness is getting dense... But at least I can see my lord tonight… at least the city is still bright and radiant with his presence... The city is still drowned in his fragrance... but sand seems to be crying like a child … it doesn’t want His feet to leave its grounds…why should it not weep…after all these feet have grown old on its surface.. How could it bear the separation…it seems even the skies are shedding tears.... and hearts have forgotten to beat...

Ah...It’s the last night with the grandson of Muhammad SAW... It’s the last night of Hussain AS in Madina…

They say that the greatest ones will accompany him on his journey… and I am not one of them.



کنعان محمد کے حسینوں کا سفر ہے
خورشید لقا،زہرا جبینوں کا سفر ہے

چھٹتا ہے وطن،گوشہ نشینوں کا سفر ہے

اک دن کا نہیں کوچ،مہینوں کاسفر ہے


گل رو چمن خلد میں جانے کو چلے ہیں

گھر چھوڑ کے جنگل کے بسانے کو چلے ہیں


گردش ہے اب،اور فاطمہ زہرا کا قمر ہے

ایک ایک قدم راہ میں لٹ جانے کا ڈر ہے

بستی ہے رستے میں کسی جا،نہ شجر ہے

درپیش ہے سختی،کہ پہاڑوں کا سفر ہے
گرمی میں گرفتار محن ہوتے ہیں شبیر

اک غل ہے کہ آوارہ وطن ہوتے ہیں شبیر


میر انیس

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An unexplainable mood made me wander into the night before 28th Rajab 61 Hij…When Imam Hussain as left Madina on a journey guided by Ishq. It’s the night of 27th Rajab 1430 Hijra. I can’t overcome the fact that I was not the best one to accompany him. The finest ones were born when they were needed.
Mir Anees says in his mersiya that we recite in our majalis as we mourn tonight recalling the painful memories of this journey...
" Kunan-e- Muhammad (saw) kay haseenon ka safar hai..."