The Life of an Orange - wonderful friends that blessed the journey...

The Orange

1. Orange and Life (or the Contratemps of a life with the Master)

I saw my Master eating oranges,

And the fruit appeared juicy and sweet

As it passed through his lips.

He passed me one,

But when I bit through the pulp

Oh, Lord, how sour was it!

I saw my Master live his life,

And his life appeared happy and sweet

With each passing moment.

God too gave me a life,

But when I lived my life,

Oh Lord, how sour was my portion!

Hehehe.

.............

This prose is recorded from a tale recounted by a friend, a Sufi. Oh what a rascal he was when he was studying overseas. His idea of jihad (of course he was kidding, but I thought I better clear all doubt. After all, we don't know who may drop by in this almanac... Some may not be as cool as you, sunshine) was going out with a beautiful girl of Bani Israel, a rich London Jewess princess. Although not rich, he was a bon vivant, the life of any party, and he mixed with the super rich students who customed only the most expensive and exclusive nightclubs in the West End. That my friend could drink like a camel became useful as he and his clique partied into the early hours of the morning. To top of this degenerate (but undoubtedly very interesting!) life, is his talent as a ladies' man. Oh how they simpered and adored this scrawny little fella from Malaysia.

The Grandshaykh

This was of course many (many) decades ago. It was his fate that amongst his friends was a quiet unassuming son of a Sultan, studying law. One day, the prince fell under a spell of a Sufi Grandshaykh, and with great vigour and enthusiasm, dragged my friend into the tiny but growing circle of young Naqshbandis in the Malaysian diaspora in London, and later in Malaysia.

He has since passed away and so has the Prince. I miss our little chats. Because my friend was an excellent storyteller, and still I can recall how I chuckled and laughed at my friend's honest and often XXX rated tales from his disreputable past. In between these salacious but hilarious intermission, he would regularly throw nuggets of Sufi tales and experiences he had being in the close proximity of the Shaykhs and the Grandshaykhs. Always interesting, always entertaining and never dull. How wonderful was he... *sigh*

The Prince
al-fatiha

Sufis never preach to me. They only share, and always with a glint in their eye and a refreshing self-deprecation humour. No false humility here. They are simply lovely... How proud their Grandshaykh must be, and how lucky I am to know some of them. Even if only but a while.

May God bless them... and of course, may God bless you, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Gurindam, Mulla Nasruddin and the Tailor

Gurindam Again - Today the sinner attended a meeting concerning an oil palm enterprise in the morning, together with his partner and friend, Ariffin. We were happy that Gurindam was also in the meeting. Gurindam (a pseudonym) is an elder and wise planter that we had made acquaintance with last year, some stories of which has already been recorded in this almanac.

An intermission - During today's meeting, Gurindam suddenly slipped me a note paper, on which he had scribbled, "The most scary matter is to be a witness to your ownself in front of Allah azzawajalla on what you have done / not done during your world life." Now what is this about?

Mulla Nasruddin - This caught me by surprise. But I held my peace for the duration of the meeting. Instead, I myself scribbled a reply in the form of a story about Mulla Nasruddin, a great sufi persona of immense stature, whose life story and tale is replete with wisdom mingled in mortal irony and humour. My brother, Saiful shared the tale with me last night. He told me the story this way -

Sufi guy goes a tailor to make a shirt. Tailor says, " God willling, it'll be ready next week ". Sufi guy comes back after a week, Tailor says," Shirt not ready, God willing, next week ". Sufi guy comes back again a week later. Tailor guy says, "Not ready, God willing, it'll be ready next week". Sufi guy then says.."Look, if we leave God out of it, how soon can my shirt be ready?"

Many Interpretations - I slipped the note back to Gurindam who read my reply. He chuckled, then he passed back the note with a reply, "It is just a test of patience". I found this interesting because my brother looked at the story from another angle which is "Stop using God as an excuse." But I guess an event recollected in a folk tale or sufi lore often offers many equally valid interpretations, depending really on whose point of view you are taking.

Mr. Mischief - Anyway, the meeting soon ended and I queried Gurindam as to the purpose of the advise, And this was what he answere, "If we really believe that God is with us all the time, we would not do any mischief." I listened and replied, "Ah. Very true. But I am not there yet..." After all, what else can I say?... for it is true... I still make mischief. But now I am wondering why he shared that with me. Did he read 'Mr. Mischief' written on my forehead? I should see him again, I think, and find out more. Insecure? Guilty as charged!

I have always found Gurindam fascinating. So much so that I have written at least 4 earlier postings arising from our conversations. We first met during a visit to an oil palm estate in Sarawak, situated in the island of Borneo/Kalimantan (Click on title to go to the postings): -

• Seven Reasons why Dogs are like Saints - Near Sibu 2011 Part 2
• Fat Trees and Tall Thin Trees - Gurindam's Tale
• A Piggy Tail - The Spiritual Station of Pigs
• Gurindam , the Weed, the Rice and the Lemongrass - The Nature of Love and Her Sweet Responsibilities

Each time I have ventured out of my private and almost hermit-like life, fate has presented me with beautiful people who are generous enough to share with me the most wonderful of stories and wisdom. I think it is time for the sinner to travel again. But where?

Have a lovely Monday, sunshine. God bless you.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Angels of Sodom, Gomorrah and the Grave

Cartoon 1 - Living next door to angels has its upsides and downsides.

Cartoon 2 - All Malaysians are required to carry their National Registration Identity Card, or NRIC for short. It tells me what my name and my address is (in case I forget). It also tells me my date of birth (as if I need any reminder about how old I am). A couple of years back, the government thought that it would also be a cool idea to also include my religion. This is useful, because when I die, the Angels of the Grave will be curious as to my faith, and shall question me. But I am already a Muslim - my NRIC says so! (Assuming I am buried with my NRIC). But things are not so simple... they never are when it comes to Angels.

Have an Angelic Monday, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-Taufiq.

Snoop Rumi, the Fastlane for Sins and Smoking in Heaven? - Old Toons

Some old cartoons sketched in 2004-2005. I think I may have published the last one in this almanac (honest to goodness, I really cannot remember). 

Have a wonderful day, sunshine. Full of laughter and smiles! May the Lord bless you and your family.

wa min Allah at-taufiq.

If the Model is Exquisite, do not wonder why the Painting is Beautiful - of Ghosts, Rumi, God and Friendship

Sigh. Why can't this crank just leave me alone.

Rumi is quite Da Man, you know. And although I have known of him for some time, I can never really wrap my turban around his prose. Just like Ruzbihan’s, they are so elevated and transcendental that my brain kinda break down and refuses to budge despite my loudest exhortations. So I say that if Rumi’s prose is so high and heavenly, then obviously I must drag Rumi and his fabled lore down to my low standards. So I am sorry if you are looking for elevated love in this almanac. I don’t think you will find any here. There is an elevator in the building, correct, but the arrow is always pointing down, because you know, I am that ‘low kinda guy’. Hehehe.

Rubbing Rumi

Did Rumi not say,

“How will your mirror

Be polished if you are

Irritated by every rub?”

Well, I am Rumi’s proverbial mirror.

And yes, Mr. Rumi…

I do get irritated by every rub.

But maybe it is you who is

Rubbing me the wrong way!

Ha.  Ha.  Ha. My beard is funnier than his jokes.



I don’t write poetry, actually. I just write. I have no notion of the aesthetics nor am I an avid reader of poetry. What actually happens is that I just pay attention and listen to any ghost willing to impart some understanding of God, the Prophets, the Companion, the Saints and humanity generally. And just like an artist with his model, if the subject is beautiful, how else can the artist draw her. If God is so utterly beautiful, how else can I write of Him?

Friends. Well, Rumi or Ruzbihan, Ariffin, Rusty, Rose, Lee, Petr, Ema, Matasan, George,  Zulkarnain or Katmon… so many friends and so many faces. How I wish sometimes I had ten thousand extra hours to sit with my old and new friends, to listen to their stories and jokes, to commiserate at their loss or sickness. Just to be a part of their wonderfully rich lives. I am a sinner, but by God I am surrounded by beautiful people. Far and near, alive or dead, their tales seed my life with hope, and their love and compassion shame me to be a better person.

Ghosts? I do not actually see them. But their voices are loud and clear. I read them in books, and I hear them in the oral traditions from people of all sorts of spiritual colour. And all of the good ghosts are saying, "Do not let our good stories die with us. Do not let everything that we struggled for, Love, Faith, Truth, Kindness, Humility and Beauty perish with us."  So I listen. Then I write.

Thank you for reading what I write. Have a happy, happy Sabbath, pet.

Pax Taufiqa.

What happened when I met the Bull of Impatience on the Peak of Knowledge

9. Impatience

Rarely am I diminished

By lack of knowledge,

It being impatience that often

Propels me over the edge.

Ah, you know the drill, sunshine. The higher you are, the harder you fall. And the funny thing is, even if the 'peak of knowledge' is entirely in your fevered imagination, you would still have a painful 'imaginary' fall, breaking your head on a hard and unyielding 'imaginary' floor. I am an expert in this and alas, have had more than my fair share of bulldozing impatience, bananaskins and pratfalls.

So be patient, pet. Don't be like me at all. It is the key to happiness, you know. Although you must admit that being impatient makes an excellent source for cartoons.

Have a happy, happy day.

Pax Taufiqa