The Fisherman, Rabita and the Ocean of God

The Fisherman, Rabita and the Ocean of God

THE MAN. Once upon a time, in a space between eternity and the great big bang, lived a man. He didn’t appear to have much talent for anything really. But he could write love letters. He hired out his skills to his troubled young male friends, who often enough were stumped for words to woo their maidens. But one day, he grew bored of all transient sentimental sop, and was moved to write about God, the Prophet and Love… and so he did. And he used to write about all sorts of things, even flirting with fana (annihilation in the spirit of the masters, the Prophet and God) and rabita ( a divine connection)…

The ocean is lapping on the shores of fana,

The moon is reflected on the waters of rabita,

And thou art nothing but a ripple,

A cloud of human emotions gasping

Across an eternity of oceans.

A whim, a thought, an idea of God,

A gesture of Divine recreation,

A treasure from God’s heavens,

A river of sublime connection,

From the Earth to the Moon to the Sun.

PRIDE AND HUBRIS. And thus he fancied himself pretty knowledgeable about this Divine Love malarkey. And hubris grew in his heart, overpowering love. He felt himself privileged and special. Honoured to be amongst the few who traded their days and nights contemplating God and Beauty. He became a poseur of holy prose, and the light in his heart grew dim. He spoke with condescending tone of ‘the many’, veiling his pride with certainty…

Casting off from the harbour of doubt,

Beyond the servitude of your mind

Swimming in a sea of wine

Fancied by many,

Tasted by few.

THE SAINTS. But you do not live your life alone. And whether it is in the physical world or spiritual realm there are always onlookers. Minders of mankind – some people call them saints, others call them saintly. And there is also a part of mankind who call them cranks, witchdoctors and snake-oil salesmen, men not to be trusted. Anyway, the saints mind the Sea and all the swimmers in it. Actually, some people prefer to merely picnic by the beach. But others, aspirants of the Path especially (let’s call them mureeds), like to go swimming in the Sea. Of such people, the Saints are particularly mindful of. Partly because the passion seeded in these aspirant-mureeds often came from them. These young fellows often swim and drink, letting the wine go to their mind, conjecturing great visions as drunkards often do. And as everyone will tell you, you don’t drink and swim and expect calamity to avoid you. You are calling calamity your way…

And lo, the mureeds think they have journeyed far

And have seen the King and His crown,

Alas, to drink too much

And into their wine, they gently drown…

THE FISHERMAN. Fortunately above all saints, there is the Fisherman. He is unlike any man you have ever met. Indeed there are those who say that he is in fact the only Man to exist in the perfect form. In the beginning, there was the Sea, until God chose to bring forth from the sea a light, an Orb perfect and luminous as an infinite number of Suns. And as he was the first to arose from the Sea, it is only fitting that above all saints and lifeguards, he is the true Saviour and Salvation over the Sea. For this story, we will call him the Fisherman. And it is the Fisherman who trawls the oceans, always looking out for the hapless fools who plunge into the horizon of truth with nay a thought for their own welfare. Because these mureeds are young when compared to the age of Creation, they are often plagued by uneven passions. Sometimes being wonderfully good, at other times, negligent and forgetful. As they trash for dear life (which they inevitably do at the end), it is the Fisherman who comes along with his net…

Only to be caught

In the net of the Fisherman

Before they perished in their watery graves,

Pulling them out from their hubris state,

And who then wearily remonstrates,

“ Do not think highly of yourself,

Nor too lowly,

For each pretension

Leave a lot of souls

Drowning in this Ocean…!”

But the Fisherman smiled and concluded,

“And my boy, have I been busy salvaging you lot

Flirting with Rabita in the Ocean of God!”

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Wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way