HU AM I? ,... I am Notrumi

Please Tell Me

Behind closed doors,

Hidden in the veil that we all wear,

What are we?

Father? Mother? Friend or enemy?

Righteous man or riddled with hypocrisy?

If you know me, please tell me...

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

Everyone and his auntie has
written of Rumi and his poetry.
I am Notrumi, and you shan't find
any Rumi here.

Hu Am I? Sufis, artists, lawyers and doctors, beggars and farmers, chairman of the board and the security guard smartly saluting you as you pass him by, all of humanity faces the same question that has dogged our species for eons - what am I? Who am I?

Though we would like to believe that we are what we believe in, it can get a little tiring to be defined by what you think you believe in and nothing beyond that. The truth is our inner consciousness is a turbulent sea, a veritable ocean of disparate thoughts, biases, passions and confusions. A constant storm of contradictions, confusions, perceptions and misconceptions. So my old friend tells me - "Do not let your inner self remain inner. You are what you do, so do! Leave the exhausting inner debate and let your actions define who you are." 

May God dress you with goodness, inside and outside. For the opposite of goodness is a lie, and we don't want to continue living a lie of a life.

Pray for me, sunshine! 

I am a beggar, the acute sinner,

The drunk derelict,

I am Notrumi.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

LIGHT HAS NO WEIGHT

27. Knots

Ya Maulana, what knots have you tied in my heart?

Ya Maulana, when you looked within me, what did you see?

Ya Maulana, though we met but for awhile

My heart, since then, has never been free.

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

Not too much thought to this posting, sunshine. Just a poem written almost 10 years ago. And I still do not know what knot he tied nor what he saw in me. But the journey of discovery has been, alhamdulillah, beautiful. And I pray and anticipate more and more beauty... of an inner and spiritual kind.

I know this, because though I am the reprobate one, my friends who have met him constantly show me their growing kindness, tolerance, mercy, generosity and patience. And they do this without even knowing it as they carry their faith lightly in their heart... 

Which kinda makes sense... because after all, light has no weight.

Have a good day, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

LAYLA'S LAMENT - God, Man, Love and the Language of Music

Layla's Lament

Oh Majnun, 

Say not that you love me, 

And Majnun, 

Say not that you care, 

For it is you 

Who has always denied me, 

So couch no lies in your words so fair,

Oh Majnun, 

Say not that you seek me, 

And in your search 

Oh how you despair, 

For I am always

There beside you, 

It is you who act 

Like I am not there,

Oh Majnun, 

Say not that you believe, 

And in your heart 

You do not deceive, 

For I am often 

The One lied to, 

Oh, how shall it be 

If I am as untrue? 

Oh Majnun, 

How hollow is your smile, 

For in your life 

You mix truth with your lies, 

And the crown that you wear 

Was never meant for you, 

And the path you choose 

Will take you no where. 

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

A Love Story. Everyone (I assume) have heard or read the story of Layla and Majnun. About the poor love-struck Majnun who was utterly, helplessly besotted with Layla, a woman with the unfortunate condition of being someone else's wife. Uh oh. Trouble.

Adam, my nephew, recording Layla's Lament first rough (very rough) cut.
We have passed it on to our singer and composer friend, Azri to flesh out
the song and add a little sparkle. 

God and Man. The story of Layla and Majnun was also read and interpreted as a parable of the love between Man and God. And it is in this context that Layla's Lament was written, way back in 21st November 2005. The date was in fact its original title, and just to add another level of myopia, the poem also had a second name, being 'Qubruz Bluez 2'. So Layla's Lament is its third and final (let's hope so!) incarnation.

I am forced to this rare change because the poem is being adapted for music, and let's face it... '21st November 2005 (Qubruz Bluez 2)' is a little long and vague for a song title. I am no musician, but with a little help from some very gifted friends, we hope to have an acceptable song within the next couple of months. 

My Infidelity. And I guess this is where I must confess... that I have been spending a lot of my free time working on the lyric and music for Layla's Lament. I am having an adulterous affair with music, leaving this almanac untouched for days on end. And it is not just Layla... but many, many other songs and prose, including instrumentals that have torn my attention away from my writing. I have been a bad, bad boy.

But to be honest... At 43, I am thankful to God Almighty and the Prophet (saws) for giving me another chance. Reawakening an ancient passion to fill my days. For I am enjoying becoming a student once again... learning the language of music, making my first untutored, awkward steps to God-knows-what-end. And finding the infinite space in the syllable of each word that is uttered or sang with love. 

184. Cathedral of Beauty

If Layla had not sent Majnun to guide us,

How long would we stray still in the temples of lesser devotions,

Never to set foot in the Cathedral of Beauty?

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

I have the story already, you see. Thousands upon thousands. But now I want someone to sing it!

Wish me luck, sunshine, in this new adventure, and for those still yet unknown who will be my travelling companions in this journey.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Between Rumi and Avatar - poetic divinity and over-design

The Wings of My Soul

I would spread the wings of my soul

But even the vast expanse of this universe

Will not be able to contain them,

I would wear the crown of my soul

But the light would blind the rest of creation

And leave them stumbling in a formless world,

I would walk around with the slippers of my soul

But I am not used to walking on air,

Accustomed as I am to the earth

Of my being.

I would unmask my soul

But the mirror of this world

Is held up by my own hands,

And the contradiction of my existence

And my non-existence

Would annihilate my world,

And I would come to be to myself

An unknown, anonymous thing,

To be drawn and written and composed

As God deems fit, as the Prophet instructs.

And even this is not the complete truth!

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

AVATAR. I don't have time for spiritual poetry. For I find this physical world manifest already with the poetic symmetry of creation that can come from God alone. If you do not believe me, look at man's own attempt at creature design... from 'scientific' television documentaries which depict animals and plants dug up from the imagination and tenuous rationalization of scientists (who really ought to know better than go for this 'pop' pseudo-scientific fiction) to mega gazillion movies like Avatar and Prometheus. Not one or two, but all the man-designed creatures somehow appear to be contrived and fictional, lacking the symmetry and asymmetrical cohesiveness of this real world and real creation, registered and copyrighted by our one God. 

Oh my God... you are ugly. I would now normally say,
"Prepare to meet your Maker..." but I know for certain God didn't make you.

And almost all fictional creatures end up with
this one singular fault - over design.

RUMI. Err... I appear to have deviated somewhat from today's topic. So back to poetry and poets. I have assiduously avoided reading poetry, because I don't really enjoy language for language's sake. And even that most celebrated poets such as Rumi and Hafez I evade from reading. But sometimes life moves in its twists and turn and you cannot avoid bumping into these spiritual luminaries. As in a little book Heche acquired for me entitled Rumi - The Fire of Love. This book turns out to be a biography of sorts covering Jelaludin Rumi and his muse, Shams of Tabriz. The book is the creation of Nahal Tajadod, a Teheran born scholar and sufi now residing in France. What makes this book very accessible is that it is written from the point of view of a Rumi mureed (student), but composed in a modern novel language. Nicely done.

I am still reading the book, and slowly devouring the stories and history of Rumi, his family, companions and mureeds, all living in that age under the shadow of the rapacious Mongol hordes from the east. Of the many books I have acquired or been given over this past one year, I think this will be one of my favourites! I will share with you my conclusions upon finishing the book later.

But before I leave you (and leave I must), I recall a prose I recorded many years back. It is kinda funny...

1.      Rumi Freak

A friend once said that

I am a Rumi freak.

But the truth is

I don’t read Rumi.

I am holding his beard

And he has his hands

On my head.

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

Have a thoughtful day, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Rumi, Soul Teasers and a Deck of Cards...

These are called Rumi-spectacles. Wear them to change your perspective of the world,
which of course, changes the world itself....

Ah. Jelaluddin Rumi. Poet Extraordinaire, best-selling poet in the Western Hemisphere since sliced white bread was invented. Inventor of the dustbin hat. The man who spouted tolerance and inclusiveness before the advent of Hippy-ism, One Love, Flower Power and the Ungrateful Dead. A Game Changer, a Muslim Sufi Saint of unparalleled reach who popularized the whirling ritual and founded the Mehlevi Order.

I don't read Rumi. I don't go looking for him, but every now and then someone would quote him on Facebook and there we would meet... two brick on the wall of a friend. 

To change the topic entirely, as a habit, I do go looking for clouds. Especially when I am driving, which is of course appallingly dangerous. I would be driving up the road and be looking up to the sky. I cannot help myself, you see, drawn as I am to the clouds. They are such shameless flirts... The little soul teasers.

There they are. Teasing me with their God-given beauty.

Getting back to Rumi, about a month ago a stranger named Sean popped up out of the etherness  of the Internet and asked if I wouldn't mind too badly if he could reproduce one of my Rumi-esque Sufi-esque sketches. They are going to produce a 40-deck card set entitled 'Rules of Love of Shams of Tabriz'. Shams of Tabriz is Rumi's famous muse, a wandering dervish who wandered (as wandering dervishes have a habit of doing) into Rumi's hometown and sparked his passionate love and fealty. Shams was the Master of the Master then. This is the picture that Sean wants to use...

...which coincidentally contains the two phrases by which I normally close a posting. I guess this means that I should probably stop here now and leave you to your day, your love, your work and play.

God blesses you always, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

The Archer and the Light at the End of the Tunnel - an afternoon walk and 4 prose

Dogs for walks. I walked my dogs yesterday afternoon. Again. As the lunch crowd settled in the coffee shops, restaurants, kopitiams, bars and bistros around my neighbourhood, my dogs were restless for a walk.

No Light at the End of the Tunnel. The walk started heavy, because my spirit was weighed down. Have you ever felt kinda dispirited and lethargic, without really knowing why? I mean of course, we all have problems in our lives, but in some moments the moody blues cling to our heart, but with no specific reasons. Perhaps it is a general feeling of despondency and weariness - money problem, health problem, friendship problem, and a scary feeling that perhaps there is no light at the end of the tunnel for us…

But I shrugged aside this feeling and started my walk.

The Archer I

The purpose of life

Is to find the true aim

Of the Archer,

And not to waste time

Shooting your arrows

At everything that this world

Offers you as target practice…

I heard this from someone who knows…

Quite Nice. I made my way towards the nearby park, hidden and closeted on all sides by townhouses. And with each step I took, I left behind one milligram of my worries. And the further I walked, the further I left the cares and concerns of this world behind me. As before, the wind came, and beneath the green canopy of the tall trees, it was really quite nice.

The Archer II

The Lord of the Archers shows you everything,

And He lets you see everything,

But He guides those whom He loves

One step at a time, one flight of the arrow at a time

Flying from your blessed bows

To the blessed ends…

I heard this from someone who knows…

Chance meeting. The afternoon grew darker and me and my dogs ended our travel at the cornerside stall of Devi’s. There I wondered, if any friend of mine would drop by. And then he did. And then another fellow..

The Archer III

O’ my Prophet,

My arrow is in my hand,

And my bow is steady,

But if you look at me that way,

If you smile at me that way,

If you continue to say what you say

In that way…

How will I ever hit the target,

Swayed as I am

With happiness that poets

Write in their intimate sacred prose?

I heard this from someone who knows…

A storm. As we sat musing over a cup of iced coffee, suddenly the heavens broke and a tropic storm lashed down against the lunchtime crowd of people and cars that pass us by. Thunder and lightning played havoc with the Djinns as we sat sheltering under the flimsy zinc roof of the stall.

The Archer IV

Once you understand your real aim, o’ Archer

The target comes to you closer and closer,

One understanding at a time, one lesson at a time,

Till it rests upon the business end of your arrow head,

The arrow will not fly now,

It is the target that will fly to you,

Sitting, standing, running or lying down,

You are seeing the world as it is,

Transient and transparent like a ghost,

A dream within a dream within a dream…

I heard this from someone who knows…

Life is very fine sometimes, I think. Thank you for keeping me company in my almanac. I did not walk very far yesterday, but Heaven knows where our thoughts wandered to... May God forgive me and may He always bless you.

my dogs 

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Online Epithet - a practical and convenient solution for a sudden visitation by the Angel of Death

Take the words written below and carve it on my gravestone...

1. I am unimportant

I am unimportant.

You, o'readers, 

Are all that

Is left of

Me.

So say to Him that

You read and

You understood,

And I reminded

You of Him

Beautifully

And with

Sweet,

Lovely

Prose.

For I have been dipping

My quill in an ocean of honey,

And there is nothing

Real and worthy

Left still

Of me.

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

Can someone plan his own epithet on his gravestone? On a random trip down memory lane I found this old prose, recorded some 3 years ago.

But I guess this entire almanac is an epithet of sorts. I find this thought a little morbid, but strangely assuring.

No, don't worry, sunshine. I am not myself planning to die any time soon. But to have an up-to-date epithet is both practical and convenient since we never know when the soul train will come whistling into the station, next stop - the World Hereafter.

Have a lovely weekend, sunshine. Talk to you real soon.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Today is lovely, but I assure you tomorrow will be lovelier... it's Ramadhan!

201. Windfall from the Lote Tree for Father

Thou have come this far,

O’ beloved companion.

Thou have survived birth,

Childhood and the rebellious

Years of youth.

Thou have come this far,

And for all the trouble

That harried thy way

Thou art here today.

O’ thou beloved companion,

O’ thou oft-blessed friend,

O’ thou shining pearl of Muhammad,

Thou have come this far.

Anything more is a windfall

From the Lote Tree.

How lucky art thee!

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

Indeed, you are. And now this morning, you are at the cusp of the Month of Ramadhan. A mere hours away from the end of today and the beginning of the holy month of fasting, which is the joy for many of my brethren. For my non-Muslim readers, let it be known that for Muslims, the day begins with sunset, thus the 1st of Ramadhan begins upon the call of the muezzin for the Maghrib prayers today, and fasting begins tomorrow at day break until the sun sets on the blessed Sabbath. There... sorted, first day of fasting!

In 2008, the sinner recorded 300 prose during this month. The above poem was the 201th of that collection. I wonder where and how I found the time to do so. Was I even working? I doubt whether I will be as productive this year, but we will see...

o' Ramadhan... is that thou knocking on my door?

This is wishing all my friends and readers, all my sunshine that brightens my grey sky, the very best, the very 'goodest' Ramadhan of your life. For each breath we take is better than the one before. Each day we live is better than yesterday, and tomorrow will, insyaAllah be more awesome. And this Ramadhan shall surely trounce all other past Ramadhan of yours... So long as we recall God in His Most Merciful aspects, and His most benevolent gift to the Worlds, being the reason for creation itself - Muhammad Habibullah, the Red Rose, the Most Gracious, Most Beautiful Flower in Heavenly Bloom in God's Garden of Recreation.

Have a lovely day, sunshine. But I assure you, tomorrow will be lovelier... it's Ramadhan!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Questions Your Soul Wants Answers To - The Prince Part 20

al fatiha...

3. N Ode 2 Hu
I am lowborn, who will raise me?
I am highborn, who will bring me down?
I am rude, who will teach me manners?
I am vain and proud, who is oft-bearing with me?

I am in love, who is in love with me?
I am yearning, who is yearning for me?
I am ablaze, who will quench the fire?
I am drowning, who will drain the ocean?
I am dying, who shall bury me?

I am a bird, but who gave me wings?
I am the sky, but who painted me blue?
I am a face, but who taught me to smile?
I am a prose, but who is the poet?
I am a lantern, but who is the light?

Who is asking? Who is answering?
What am I? Who am I?
Like a shadow on the wall?
Like a ripple in the ocean?

I am coming home, but who am I returning to?
Was I ever away?

7. Shams-al-shams

O’ Pale Shining Moon

Bridesmaid of the Sun

How many veils have been drawn

Between this one

And the Sun of the Sun?

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

Today the weary and the spirited, the wise and the foolish, the sparkling nova and the timorous mouse-like friends, mureeds, lovers and groupies of al-marhum Shaykh Raja Ashman Shah ibni Sultan Azlan Shah (Ku Ash) are making their way to the palace of his father, the Sultan of Perak to observe the tradition of the 100th day tahlil (traditional Muslim prayers for the deceased) for the passing of their beloved Shaykh.

They are a mixed bunch, you know, for Ku Ash has gathered them all under his shadow, with no discrimination, while he himself is under the shadow of the Grand Shaykh and thereafter connected through the Golden Chain to the Prophet(pbuh) himself.

Connections in the spiritual world, just like in the world of business and social networking is important - It gets you places. And it helps you to find answers to question your soul longs to ask...

May you too, have a memorable day, sunshine. Use it to remember someone good and beautiful in your life.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Salman and the Best Mirror in all Creation - song and hymn writing in different languages

1. Find a Native Speaker

There is simply no way

For you to write nasyids

And mauluds in another

Language. The best you

Can and ought to do,

Is to find a native speaker

And share a mirror

Together. There is really

No other way to grasp

The nuances and inflection

Of a different nation.

Salman al Farsi knew this,

But he was blessed to find

The Best Mirror of Hijaz

And the Best Mirror of all Creation!

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

I wish I could understand Arabic, both modern and ancient. Perhaps I shall find time to study, but oh boy, nowadays I am in such a hurry.

Amongst the earlier Grand Shaykhs of the Naqshbandi Order is Salman al Farsi (Salman the Persian), and I am fond of him because he was a non-Arab. When some of the naughtier Companions raised issue that he(Salman) did not belong to any renowned Arab family or clan, the Prophet heard of this and said, "Salman is of my House..."

Thus he was fortunate to find a sympathetic heart, a heart most renowned in kindness, not only in Hijaz, but indeed in all of creation - Muhammad Habibullah(pbuh). Now I am wondering if Salman ever wrote any Arab hymns and songs (nasyid and mawluds) in praise of God and in praise of the Prophet(pbuh)... Or perhaps in his native Persian?

If you know, sunshine... do share with me!

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

Pearls from the Ahad Ocean and Stars plucked from the Ahmad Skies - and cats too...

Pearls from the Ahad Ocean, and Stars plucked from the Ahmad Skies

I have called you here, my sons and daughters,

To give you pearls from the Ahad Ocean

And stars plucked from the Ahmad Skies,

Yet, instead of offering your hand

To take what I am offering

You bring to me plastic trinkets and broken toys

Asking, “Ya Sayeedi! Help me fix them!”

O’ my son and daughters, I shall grasp your hand

And shake your spirit, for it is not these trivial things

That require remedy, but your will and spirit

That are fixated to them.

O’ my sons and daughters, there is a universe to be conquered and surrended,

A Throne to be erected and mirrors to be polished,

Great chivalrous deeds await to be done

By one who would deign to wear

The servant’s sandals,

So help me help you!

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

I was at the office today (yes, on a Sunday) clearing up seven years of clutter. There is perhaps no profession that collects so much clutter than a solicitor. But as I was tidying up, I was about to chuck an old notebook of mine into the garbage bag when instinctively I decided to flip through the notebook. There, in between pages and pages of notes, minutes, schedules, legal workflows, dry comments and random doodling were some old forgotten prose. Two poems in fact, recorded on 27th December 2004. Above is the first one.

I guess I must smile and chuckle a little reading this prose again. But I remember those days when I was a little more uptight and censorious. I am quite relaxed now (well, at least on most days). If you are in the company of a Shaykh, it really doesn't matter whether the problems you bring to the Shaykh is big or small, trivial or of cosmic significance. For he will treat you kindly, and attend to such things as that matter dearly to you. I have heard a Shaykh even commiserate and pray over a mureed's (student's) sick tabby cat. He he he.

Cats or NOT trivial things. In ancient Egypt we were worshiped as gods!

Thank you for coming by today, sunshine.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way

God and the Distinguished League of the Broken Hearts

51. O’ Lord, are You with me?

I was driving home

Late one night,

And I felt a tinge

Of uncertainty.

With worry, I whispered,

“O’ Lord, are You with me?”

And the Voice answered,

“Yes.”

I was praying late

The same night,

And while prostrated

On the prayermat,

A sense of deep relief

Overwhelmed me,

So I whispered,

“O Lord, are You with me?

And the Voice

Again answered,

“Yes.”

Unable to sleep

After the prayers

I was writing,

When I felt

Someone watching,

And then asking,

“O’ Taufiq, why are

You writing still

While others sleep?”

And I typed this reply,

“Because, o’ Voice,

You give me

No other choice”.

“I don’t?”, He asked.

And then I typed,

“Yes, you don’t. And thank You.”

Tracing a smile upon my face, He sighed and said,

“Oh, you are welcome, Taufiq.”

This is not how I write prose ALL the time. It happened late one night in early 2009, as I was driving home, alone, weary and brokenhearted. I think we have all at least once in our life, have driven a car at night, alone, weary and brokenhearted.  In the next couple of days I was well enough to write this prose below. And give a little consolation to another broken heart. Life is funny that way. It is often full of joy, but in between are moments of poignant sadness, when we, deceived by this world, place all our hopes and dreams on this world, only to be disappointed. And we really cannot blame the world, for the world is saying to us, "Your Lord has told you of my nature and form. Yet you choose to believe your ego and disbelieve your Lord."

53. Precious tears

O’ you bedewing your pillow,

Your tears are My tears, o’ sad one.

What has taken you so ill,

So as to pull one pearly tear

That is so precious to Me?

If you have no where to turn to, turn to Me.

If you have no hope to cling to, cling to Me.

If you are faced with doubt, doubt not My Love for you.

If you are faced with fear, if you feel unloved,

Oh, love! Do you not hear?...

I am your Lord, your King.

The Mightiest, the Greatest, the One.

Between you and I, there is nothing,

And if you will be my Moon,

Will I not be your Sun?

To shine on you,

Each precious day,

So that no harm will you despair of.

Do you not know,

O’ shy one?

In Me is the cure

For all ill that

Your heart may endure.

I think we will make it through this life just fine, sunshine. You and I, we are members of the Distinguished League of the Broken Hearts. Oh, you don't remember signing up? You have, sunshine, when we met on the Day of Promises, before time as we know it began. And on that day, witnessed by God in His Court, we agreed to form this league that we may help each other, and remind each other of Him and His all-encompassing and all-enduring Love, Compassion and Mercy for us. This association may not sound like much, but it is. Because our patron is God Himself. And in God is the cure for all ill that humanity may endure. 

Have a lovely Monday. God bless.

wa min Allah at-taufiq

Hate has no place in Islam

Love will show the Way