Friday, 3 July 2009

“Muhammad is Dead!”

بِسۡمِ ٱللهِ ٱلرَّحۡمَـٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيمِ

I dreamt once that I was dressed as I normally dress when I perform swalah at home.  I was outside a house I did not know.  It was a place empty of furnishings but full of people I knew.  There were mats on the floor.  I was asked to call the adzan.  I was not inclined to do so.  And so, they asked again and I did very reluctantly.  I felt that it would have better if we went to the mosque nearby.  The people milled around and there was no imam.

After the adzan was called, the people decided to go to the mosque after all.  We all left this house and walked to the mosque, travelling along a green fence.  I was amongst the last to leave and walked at the back of the line.  We were in single file.  Along the way, there, an old man walking in the opposite direction.  He was hunched, but otherwise nondescript.  He shouted at us, “Muhammad is dead!”

I was outraged.  I replied by inspiration, “Muhammad is the Beloved of Allah.  Allah is al-Hayy.  Muhammad is Alive.”  And then, I woke up.

The people of the people of the dream all had one thing in common.  And there was no imam to lead them.  They were by themselves.  They were by themselves until they were compelled to go and join the majority.  The man walking in the opposite direction was none other than Iblis.  And whoever believes that Rasulullah (s.a.w.) is dead, does not know his religion.


Walk by the River

بِسۡمِ ٱللهِ ٱلرَّحۡمَـٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيمِ

Walked alone by the river, when the night was deepest
In silence so profound, the senses keenest.
A path to nowhere but a forest of silence.
To contemplate again the recent events.

To know the sun for I have seen the darkness,
To know life for I have been starkness.
To know love for I have seen hate.
And to die when the sunshine comes too late.

The Devil walked beside me on my left; he whispered,
"Join me for your God has the Covenant rejected.
The life of this world disappoints", depressed banter.
"Follow me where what was lost does not matter."

And for one of the few times, he did not lie.
It would not take much, to drown and die.
But to live on with a heart torn out.
To drown in pain, no soul that stout.

And the Angel of Death stood just behind.
Though silent and looming, I welcomed his kind.
Draught of eternity on my lips, thus I lay me down to sleep,
To sail to my personal hell, where tears of blood seep.

Walked alone by the river, when the night was deepest
In silence so profound, the senses keenest.
The Devil was there, and the Angel of Death.
I looked to the sky, turned away from the left.


For every person who thinks of dying, is another who has reached realisation that the world is a façade that offers nothing.  And that is the beginning of the Path.  He has died before he has died.  And in that perishing, he is Saved.  Should one give love to anything of the world, to someone and then another and then another only to be disappointed, it was an illusion.  For our capacity to love is tainted with self.  But when one turns to the Divine, the Capacity to Love is His and one is never disappointed or bereft.