Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Mawlana Abul Kalam Azad Part 2

No.9 Wonderful
Beauty made the world a canvas,
To paint His Names
In cosmic colour and hue.

And in between the First suns and the Last moons,
Beauty found time to create you.


MECCA, 1888. Mawlana Abul Kalam Azad was born to a migrant Indian family in Mecca in the year 1888. This boon companion of Mahatma Gandhi was described by the Mahatma himself as ‘The Emperor of Learning” and “a person of the calibre of Plato, Aristotle and Pythagorus”.

His father was reputed to be Sufi pir of the Qadiri and Naqshbandi Sufi Orders. Yet Mawlana Abul, although educated in the Islamic classic traditions, had a willful heart to explore beyond the books and sermons of the madrasah. His proficiency in Arabic, English, Urdu, Hindi, Persian and Bengali permitted him to study many knowledge and lore which would otherwise be locked away from him. When married with a highly astute mind and a compassionate heart, is it any wonder that Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru's referred to him as “a very brave and gallant gentleman, a finished product of the culture that, in these days, pertains to few”. When you consider the giant personalities of Gandhi and Nehru, you would know that such personal accolades are not something to take lightly.
.

MY FIRST ENCOUNTER with Mawlana Abul’s book “THE OPENING CHAPTER OF THE QURAN” (Mawlana Abul Kalam Azad, Edited & rendered into English by Dr. Syed Abdul Latiff) was some 10 years ago while I was collecting notes and insights on the idea of Islam and the Environment for my book (grandly) entitled "THIS WORLD IS MY MOSQUE - A Walk Through a Twilight Forest under a Crescent Moon". Perhaps one day I should post some readable parts of my unfinished book.
.
Anyways, while searching through my old notes last night, I came across this following extract from Maulana Abul’s book – “To visualize God as Rabbul’-Alamin or the Rabb (Lord) of all creation is to conceive Him as not only the Creator of everything in the universe but its nourisher and sustainer as well. The provision that He has made for the sustenance and growth of everything is made under a plan, so marvelous that every being is furnished with all that its particular nature demands for its existence, and at the same time, it is furnished in a manner that takes cognizance of every changing situation and need.”

GOD THE PAINTER. I remember thinking about Mawlana’s words and how if I consider God as the Ultimate Artist and Painter, God would not be any ordinary sort of painter. Such is the vacuum of meanings and substance before Creation that God’s canvas would be made of unimaginable nothingness. A canvas empty even of emptiness and devoid of even voidness. And upon this divine canvas, God found the time to paint each ant, each zebra, the forest and mountains, the lakes and the seas, the sky and the vast expanse of outer space and beyond. And while working on His Masterpiece, He found the inspiration to create you. Little ol’ you.

But as the Rabbul’-Alamin, the Painter of this vast Creation doesn’t stop painting. Indeed not a moment past from Untime to this moment when you are reading this post, that God has ever stopped painting. And were He like us, to grow tired and bored – and turns away from His Creation, all of Creation would cease to be nourished and sustained by His Grace and we, together with everything else would simply slip back into the unimaginable emptiness. All the colours of the worlds, each infinitesimal dot and speck of paint would fall from the canvas. A ripple of creation blinked away into a sea of absolute zero, where even memories would cease to exist.

RUBUBIYAT. But (thankfully) God is not like us. He loves all of Creation with a Love and Power which humbles our mind, thus wrote the Mawlana – “Indeed there are countless varieties of creation infinitesimally small in form that our naked eye cannot perceive them. For them, also, the Rububiyat of God has made the requisite provision for sustenance and growth with as much care as for the bulk elephant or the intelligent man. All this man can observe in his external world. Should he look into himself, he will notice that his life, at every moment of its existence, discloses a world of activity propelled by the Rububiyat* of God.”

LOVE THAT HAS NO LIMITATION. Such is the love that God has for you. Someone once commented about this blog. “Surely it isn’t as simple as that. Surely it is not just about love, kindness and mercy”. To my friend I reply here – It is. And the eternal sadness of mankind is that however we talk of love, singing and praising love in poems and novels, we fail to understand His Love. We refuse to believe that such Love as His Love could possibly exist. And we don’t even try. We put limitations on God when He Himself says He has none.

IMAM GHAZALI. Oh my dear friends, believe. And set yourself free of your mortal cage. Your body is imprisoned for awhile here in this world. But your heart, as Imam Ghazali once noted – is not of this world. Believe in His love and let your heart be the wings to fly you to Him…
.


On this wonderful Wednesday, when I am sharing thoughts with Maulana Azad and Imam Ghazali (not to mention Nehru and the Mahatma), I bid you peace and love. Not of a sinner, but from these elevated souls to whom I owe so much.

Pax Taufiqa.

Footnotes:
Earlier posting - Mawlana Abul Kalam Azad Part 1 - Click Here.

* Rububiyat means, as quoted from Maulana Azad’s book, “…in Arabic, Rububiyat means nourishing. But the term is to be conceived here in its widest sense, for in the opinion of some of the leading lexicographers, the terms means, “to develop a thing from a stage to stage in accordance with its inherent aptitudes, needs and its different aspects of existence, and also in a manner affording the requisite freedom to attain its full stature”.

The poem ‘Wonderful’ is from chapter 8 ‘Dawn Came, the Song’ circa October 2004.

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Return of Prophetic Archery


The Silver Arrow
A silver arrow has pierced my heart
But it came from no ordinary bow.
A light has sparked in my heart.
But it came from no common sun.

MALAYSIAN HOBBITS. In Malaysia, a couple of my friends are reclaiming the forgotten sunnah (Prophetic Traditions) of archery and horseback archery. These gentlemen are sturdy and nimble little fellas. My brother, Poon, likes to call them the master’s own Hobbits. The methodology of Prophetic Archery is rooted in spiritual and physical training. It is not easy, but it is not impossible. I am sure you can do it if you wanna try. Click Here to one of their sites called Pemanah (it means archer or bowman in Malay). People of all faiths are welcome...

FINE ARCHERS. One pioneer is a ghost hunter, while the other friend drives around in a taxi. Another chap I recently met is a music producer and former manager of one of the country’s biggest gospel boy band. Simply put, they are a varied mix of beans. But regardless of whether he is expelling the poltergeist out of your kitchen or driving you in a metered cab, these men will burrow their way into your heart if you give them half a chance. They are, as most of my friends are, really the sweetest guys you could meet. Unless of course you are a Djinn or a record label. Then maybe it is a different story. Hehehe.
.

INHERITED FRIENDS. I often wonder how such souls have drifted into my life. But a lot of these chaps are really Poon’s school and neighbourhood pals. I guess I really have a lot to thank my brother for.

WINTER SONATA. I was involved for a while in preparing some documents between them and a Korean archery master. I had a ponderous time trying to put into words the gist of the matter due to my friends’ high esteem and deference to the Sensei. The hobbits would admonish me, “Oh no, Taufiq, that sounds a bit impolite.” and “No, no, the sentence looks really short and terse” and “You cannot address him that way.” Scratching my head I (wish I had) said, “Look, bro, I am not writing a love sonnet but a formal document. I HAVE to be sharp and accurate.” These Sufis give me headaches.

PROPHETIC ARCHERY. Ah, well. You gotta take the sweet with the not-so-sweet from these heroes. For that is what they are to me, real freakin’ heroes. I am full of school-girl admiration for their commitment in bringing back the lost science and tradition of Prophetic Archery to our country. Like all things connected to the Prophet, it is a beautiful, delicate and a joy to behold.
.

Have a superb Tuesday, sunshine!

Pax Taufiqa.

Footnote: “The Silver Arrow” is from Chapter 1 called ‘The Dam.SunSun.Ana’ circa 2004.

Monday, January 10, 2011

The Dot Tablet


I heard Katy Perry's song 'Firework' playing and it was like someone knocking on my heart. I pressed my ear to the door and asked "Who is it?" A gentle voice replied, "It is I, Muhammad".
.
*Sigh*
.
"What do you want of me? Go find someone worthy of your attention." I said to the voice behind the door.
.
*Sigh*
.
"How can I, when my Lord entrusted you to me?"
.
*Sigh*
.
I collapsed beside the entrance of my heart crying, "Oh Prophet, forgive me..."
.....................
We all love our prophets. We may not understand them entirely and at times we get confused by the teaching of preachers. And of course we often delude ourselves. Thankfully, although we cannot describe 'good' but we know it when we feel it, and the prophets feel very, very good indeed. Yet, no matter how high we place the prophets in the firmament of our soul, we know it is never high enough, for the divine station of prophets is in God's hands. And He Praises His best servants wonderfully.
.
I am a blubbering fool and often cry thinking of him. But the tears are not tears of sadness, only that when we feel so blessed, that no words seem adequate to describe him. In that moment, tears become a wonderous lake of reflection, and we sit contented by the lakeside, looking upon the reflection of our prophets, contemplating, "How wonderful art thee..."
.
Have a good week, sunshine!
.
Pax Taufiqa.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

The Three Phases of a Real Moon

I AM REAL...
As real as the fluttering
Wings of a butterfly,
And at night, when
The Moon is bright
And clear, you can see me, my dear.

.

I AM REAL...
As real as the song in your heart,
I am real,
As real as the blood that
Spills from your cut,
I am the wine,
I am the honey,
The sugar in your soul,
The perfect icing
Of your favourite party cake,
I am unique and I have no peer,
And at night, when
The Moon is hidden,
You can still feel me, my dear.


I AM REAL...
I am the breath of you lover,
I am your birth and your death,
I am unique and I have no fear,
And at night, when
The Moon is crescent and silent,
You can still hear me, my dear.

The Ever-Present God, the Lady Fatima az-Zahra, Knights of the White Flame and the Quest


Present Love
Even when I was
In great turmoil and doubt,
Love came to me and smiled
Saying, “Oh seeker, here am I!”

Then Love gazed upon
My shameful countenance,
And said,
“If you never fail,
You would not
Seek My Guiding.
Then we would both
Lose a precious thing,
The you that is
Always seeking Me,
The Most Sought,
And the Me that is
Always with you,
As your Ever-Present God.
……………

THE SCIENCE OF FAILING. It is okay to fail. That is what makes us human. And this sinner is an expert in failure. Initially I only obtained a Degree in the Science of Failing (DsF) from University of Life. Later I progressed to Masters in Failures (MsF). I have a talent for this sorta things. I need very little help to be a fool.

I am making ha-ha.
.
BUT SERIOUSLY. The above prose was recorded in May – April 2009. It is the electrical fire that runs through the soul circuitry.
CLUBBED. It is 6.30 a.m. on the second Sunday of 2011. I was out attending a birthday soiree at a club in town. I am winding down the night at a 24/7 Indian Muslim restaurant near my house. It is now full of boys and girls back from the clubs. I am not gonna sleep as I am going to pick up my buddy, King, for a super-early breakfast.
....
FULL LIFE. I guess you could say that my life is full. It was once full of failures, but now, with Heche and Mika turning my life upside-down, it is also full of wholesome goodness. Thank God for that and thank you for spending a few precious minutes with me.

THE QUEST. Just a final note, my sweet – Love doesn’t provide all the answers. But it makes the quest for the answers worth it. And yes, do not be fooled, for IT IS a Quest. And you are all knights of the White Fire, heralds in the bridal train of the Lady Fatima az-Zahra. You did not choose to be knights and heralds? You did, my friends – when you fell in love with love.

Have a sunny Sunday, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.

Saturday, January 8, 2011

I met Today that other Day.


10. Today Greeted Me
Late this morning, Today greeted me,
"Peace of the morning to you,
And Peace of the gentle night
That passed you by, o' Taufiq,
Peace! From the Lord who created me, Today,
For mankind and for the djinns!"

Shyly I replied, "Peace, o' Today."

Today explained, "In my left hand,
I carry the happiness of this world,
In all its curious shapes and forms,
And in my right hand I bear the happiness
Of the hidden world, in all its many
Truths and certainties.”

Today then continued, "I am commanded
By our Lord Who Creates to offer
Both of these gifts to you. Will you
Take the Lord's gifts?"

I did not pause, thanking God
And Today in gratitude,
Before enquiring, "But how did you
Know where to find me, o' Today?

Today smiled and answered,
"It was an easy thing for me to do.
I simply followed the gentle voices
And music of the Maulud that was
Playing in your ears and pouring like
An ocean turned upside down
Inside your heart, o' Taufiq!"

Today placed his hands upon
His breast and explained,
“The songs of praise for
Muhammad Habibullah is
Ever like a siren call to me!”

Today then took a seat
Near me, looking at me
And asked,
“Any more questions?”

“Just one more, o’ Today”, I replied.
“Who are Yesterday and
Tomorrow? Are they
Your brothers?”

Today chuckled in answer,
“Good question, my mortal!
Nay, they are not my brothers,
They are me, and I am them,
In a different place and time.
But we are, in Truth, one.”

“What a fascinating creature
You are, Mr. Yesterday-Today
And Tomorrow!”, I exclaimed.

Then, Today suddenly stood up,
Looking at me in a happy surprise,
He put in plain speak,
“Me? I am fascinating?
Hehehe. O’ mortal, there
Is no creature
More fascinating
And beguiling
Than man! And I bear witness
That verily you are at a lost,
Save for those of you that join together
In the mutual teaching of
Truth, Patience and Constancy!
MasyaAllah! MasyaAllah!

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

MAN PROPOSES BUT... This conversation was recorded around April - May 2009 in my chapter entitled 'Muhammad, My Only Other'. I think people generally worry too much AND too little about the future. It may be mystic / sufic sensibilities to suggest that we should not plan anything, after all, doesn't the saying goes that 'Man proposes but God disposes'?
.
NO EXCUSE. Well, I think that is just an excuse and misinterpretation to suit my laziness. Yes, of course God ultimately is the Will of Creation, whatever we plan or scheme. But the whole point is we are SUPPOSE to plan, regardless.
.
PLAN! I have made the mistake of not planning. I plan to do so from now on. Oops. Hehehe, what I mean to say is... I will do so and plan from now on.
.
BTW, the last bit in the story above is in reference to Surah Al-Asr of the Quran, which is the 103rd chapter of the Holy Scripture. I am sure you noted that, my pretties.
.
Ah well, have a great planned Saturday, sunshine. God wants it. And I intend to fulfill His Wishes!
.
Pax Taufiqa.

Friday, January 7, 2011

Death and the Divine Presence, and Ode to Nakesh and Cathleen


CIRRHOSIS. In 1985 I was a Form 3 student in Victoria Institution, Kuala Lumpur. That same year I learned the word ‘Cirrhosis’. Classroom gossip revealed that my friend Nakesh Singh was suffering from the disease of the liver. I blinked and just nodded numbly hearing that word. Nakesh has been missing classes, I know. First for a couple of days, then the days turned into weeks. But frankly, at 15 years old, we felt that we were invincible, the world is there to be conquered and death is something that happened to other people, and other people’s friend.

NAKESH, CHICKEN-STEALER (1970 – 1986). Nakesh was a popular classmate. He had a quirky sense of humour, and being the only Punjabi boy in class, he stood out with his sharp features, curly hair and height. Together with Rizal Shuaib, they were the tallest boys in class 3A1. It is also inevitable I guess that with the name Nakesh, he was also called ‘Naked Singh’ by our classmates. Oh, the wit.

Whenever we had P.E. (physical education), we always played football (soccer). Nakesh was what we called a “Curi-Ayam” (chicken-stealer). He would inevitably park himself near the goalpost of the rival team, waiting to score easy goals (I guess the phrase arose on the belief that it is easy to steal chicken, I have not tried it myself, so I cannot confirm this urban myth). Curi-Ayam is actually against the soccer rulebook, but we were young, healthy and we didn’t care.

BETTER FRIEND. I was not close to him initially (I thought he was a little irritating), but in Form 3 we somehow became better friends. I don’t know why, but I guess I figured out that beneath his strange wit and chicken-stealing escapades hides a boy of sensitive and kind decency. I liked him. That year I won the ‘Karya Islam’ competition (Islamic Essay) and in my absence during the prize-giving it was Nakesh who claimed the prize on my behalf, in front of the entire school.

OPEN DAY AND DEATH. The last project I had together with Nakesh was the school’s open day in 1986. The funfair games which we organized were a roaring success and the class mafia actually made money. Monetary success however preceded shock because a couple of days later, my class teacher made a special announcement – that my friend, Nakesh ‘Naked’ Singh, at the age of 16, has passed away.

CATHLEEN (1985 – 2011). I write this today because my friend, Zulfikar, recently lost a beautiful friend, Cathleen, who passed away in her sleep at the young age of 26. And in his Facebook, he asked that I write about death. Well, I don’t know anything about death. I have not experienced dying personally. So whatever I say here is based upon hearsay and indirect evidence…
.
152. The Gifts
The Gift is yours for the asking.
The Gift before the Gift is in you asking.
The Gift before the Gift before the Gift is in the Cause that impelled you to ask.
The First Gift is in your first breath
The Last Gift is in your death.
And the Gift after the Last Gift?
Ho! Only Allah Knows Best.
.
FOR THOSE WHO HAVE PASSED ON… Death is a gift, because after years of living and being separated from the Divine Presence, you are finally brought back to your Maker. Long did your God pine and yearn for your return, so do not feel too sad for those you have left behind on this Blessed Earth. You have fought the good fight already, and you have lived your life with love, compassion and honour. Those who still live will remember your face, your kindness and humour with a glow in their hearts. You, who have passed away - my mum, my aunties and uncles, my nephews and cousins, Nakesh and Cathleen, you have left behind beautiful memories in our hearts. You have helped sanctify the inner sanctum of our soul so that God and His Prophet may dwell therein. By your life and your passing, you have made us all better human beings. We thank you for all that you have shared with us.

FOR THOSE WHO ARE STILL ALIVE… I don’t know where my dearly departeds actually are. Maybe they are in the 1st Heaven? Or maybe the 7th Heaven? Perhaps having picnic under the Lote Tree, or just amusing themselves reading the Secret Tablet? But this belief I hold firm to – Wherever God is, the Prophets and Saints are there. And where they are, my mother would be there too. And with her, would be Nakesh and Cathleen. Now it is only for me, this foolish sinner, to live life well and decent, so that I, however unworthy, am allowed to approach their blessed company. If permitted, I will play soccer with Nakesh against the Angels Super-11, and for old-time’s sake he can steal as many chicken as he wants.

IN THE NAME OF DEATH. My dear friends, we who will one day taste death, we are all the same, you and I. I ask you now in the name of Death who is my Kinsman… really, how can we not be brothers and sisters too?


70. Death, my Kinsman
O’ Death!
Come to me gently in the Reality
Of what you are and who I am,
Come to me unmasked
And I shall wait for you unmasked,
Cast aside that face you wear
And I shall cast aside this face I wear,
For if ALLAH has in Truth, created,
He has created only Muhammad,
And in one body,
Can there beat more than one heart?

Have a wonderful Friday, sunshine.

Pax Taufiqa.
.
Cemetery Pic is from Balqies Arafia's blog.