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Gratitude For Knowledge and Teachers

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Recollecting and treasuring the knowledge
That your teachers shared before
Is not merely nostalgia
Nor is it a sign of your acquiescence
Of your teachers’ future errors
Verily, your remembrance is simply gratitude
For the enlightenment you received
And a consolidation of ideas
You deem indispensable
Your gratitude for the past is fundamental
And if your past teachers now thrive,
Gives thanks and praise
And if your teachers now have erred,
Pray for their deliverance
For how much of an ingrate is the one
Who once lingered and traced their shadows
And now sticks a proud nose up in the air
Oblivious of the debts you can’t repay
For the inner light of knowledge and progress….
And do be careful, now, my compadre
As on this theatre of inconsistencies
Who knows if you’ll slip far with ease…
So don’t be so impatient to condemn
The ones who gave you such benefit before….
Advise your seers should they transgress
And prosecute should they oppress
But never forget the good that you received…

The Ocean Speaks To The Voyagers…

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Some would-be sailors reported abuse by a line of skippers, and returned to the shore, heartbroken, anguished, and perturbed.

One of them said: “We must bring them to account! We have been wronged! Looks like there are no true skippers anymore….”

The ocean listened patiently, heard their pain like a mother, and spoke from within the rising and falling waves:

“Wrongs must be addressed…. You must act with unrelenting fairness.. For all who embark upon the journey deserve a fair hearing.”

Waves ascended majestically and then fell, like swooning dervishes; the water swelled, then settled, proclaiming:

“But there will always be true skippers, who have navigated the ocean, who have travelled far, far, far through me and can show you the way. And there have always been false skippers, full of names for my waters, but full of hot air within. So why do you give in? Was I your goal or was the skipper’s good pleasure your idol? Did you pine after my vast mysteries, or were you just enjoying the cruise? Did you think I would let you voyage upon me without some stillness, without the currents throwing you off course, without assailments by pirates dressed in a skipper’s cape? Perhaps there was nothing wrong with the skipper? Perhaps he was a true guide, and the problem was in your self?”

The ocean grew into an almighty breaker, falling with a thunderous clap, then rested and rocked hypnotically:

“Keep your hearts with me, and I will send you everything you need… Keep your attention on my waves, and I will move you further ahead… And absorb the beauty of the light of my full moon… But remember this, the point is not the skipper, the point is the Sea. If I am no longer your one desire, and it’s just all about you or the skipper, then either you are off, or the skipper is off… So, seek redress with the law, if crimes and oppression were perpetrated, for the pirates in the garb of skippers must be rounded up, but keep your gaze on me; make me your one and only concern, make my vastness your dreams.. Remember the signs of a true skipper, and if you gained from any of the skippers on this sea; if you were guided further through my waves, you must show thanks and send your sincere supplications their way- for they are my special ones; I have brought them closer to me…. But also know this, my skippers can never be as vast and as perfect as me…. Never lose hope in the ocean… And enjoy the resplendence of my full moon, which brightens my waters and fills your hearts with light!”

The ocean breathed out like a hidden saint and then slept soundly, like a sleeping baby. They turned their eyes from their troubles, and looked out- the waves shone, like hearts…

The Destruction of Abu Jahl: The Battle of Badr

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The Assyrian came down like a wolf on the fold… The Destruction of Sennacherib: Lord Byron

The hordes of Quraysh, like a dust storm, arose

And their cohorts were cursing and lining in rows

And the sheen of their spears like the candles that burn

In the idols of Makkah which stand taciturn

.

Like the palms in the desert when oases are fresh

The army stood furnished; for battle well-dressed

Like the grains in the desert which scatter and fall

That host in the noon light retreated forlorn

.

For the Angels of Justice, with three fighting winds

Of a thousand combatants, cruelty to rescind

And the eyes of these angels came down on Quraysh

Some stricken with horror and fear in disgrace

.

And woe to Walid and Shaybah and Utba

Vanquished by Ali, Ubaydah and Hamza

And there lay the pharaoh, the staunch Abu Jahl

Abdullah, the reader, beheaded him well

.

And there lay the pebbles, which flew at Quraysh

When Ahmed recited: impaired be their faces!

This army from Makkah quashed by the unseen

A thousand were crushed by three hundred thirteen

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And the widow of Jahl; despaired and bewailed

And the idols of Makkah unsteady and frail

And the might of Quraysh; severed deep by the sword;

Had melted like sunset, by Mustafa’s Lord

.

Allahumma Salli wa sallim wa baarik alaiyhi wa alaa aalihi wa sahbihi wa sallim

The Sun Rises

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‘The night comes in / Like some cool river’ Richard Thompson

The Sun rises

In my grieving heart

And now the Light

Soothes all the pain

Feel the daylight

Embracing the grief

Of the world, which turn us insane

The Sun rises

And now my heart breathes

And the Love

Is all that I see

Deeper than blood

Which runs through the veins

And the fears fade into the Light

The Sun rises

Sheening all my dreams

With a gold

That glows eternally

Even if foes

From hidden angles

Besiege my heart

The Light shelters me

Peace eternal

And flowing blessings

On the one

The Sun of the hearts

And upon his

Blessed companions

And his kin

The bearers of the Light

    WHAT IS ON THE MENU FOR SAHOOR?

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    WHAT IS ON THE MENU FOR SAHOOR?

    Fried eggs sizzling, paratha from tandoor?

    Buttered paratha in the shape of the full moon?

    Paratha filled with succulent Aloo?

    Now that would be so absolutely cool!

    In Ramadan I just appreciate the food!

    WHAT IS ON THE MENU FOR IFTAAR?

    Biryani made with chicken and piyaar?

    Mango milkshake, my wife is such a star!

    Homemade samosa and pakora!

    So spicy they would tantalise a Gora!

    In Ramadan the food is best by far!

    WHAT WILL BE MY WORSHIP FOR TARAWEE?

    Speeding through rakats in such a hurry?

    Coz I’m feeling bloated from the curry?

    Head and heart pulsating in a flurry?

    I need to sleep, Allah, I am so sorry!

    In Ramadan, take your time, no need to worry!

    “WHAT WILL THEY GAIN TONIGHT?” The angels surveyed.

    “Nice suhoor? So, they feel strong at day?”

    “Light Iftar, so they feel light to pray?”

    “Recite Quran, to clear the disarray?”

    “Staying up to perform Qiyam Al Layl?”

    “In Ramadan, the nafs can fade away…”

    “There’s no fear or grief from these pure days…” 

    Locked Down

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    One night as I sat

    Shackled up by Facebook

    The jitters from the Twitter

    Filled my body and my face shook

    The trap of the Whatsapp

    Enwrapped my intentions

    But a voice from beyond

    Just arrested my attention

    Sallahu ala Muhammad! Sallahu alayhi was sallam!

    Locked down to the ground

    Of the multiplicity

    My heart was aground

    A beleaguered city

    Spellbound in the haze

    Of my lusts’ euphoria

    But the voice cleared away

    The phantasmagoria

    Sallahu ala Muhammad! Sallahu alayhi was sallam!

    I arose with a heave

    Enclosed by acedia

    My head leaking facts

    From the Wikipedia

    My eyes bleeding tracks

    From the social media

    But the voice kindled me

    I rejoiced with a fever

    Sallahu ala Muhammad! Sallau alayhi wa sallam!

    I strained to my door

    To the ways of the speaker

    My phone tingling

    Making me feel weaker

    My soul signalling

    To awake like a seeker

    The voice echoing

    And the light shone brighter

    Sallahu ala Muhammad! Sallahu alayhi wa sallam!

    I followed the voice

    In my mind’s metropolis

    Approached by these hawkers

    And hucksters and sophists

    They plied me with gadgets

    And pure luxuria

    But the voice stirred me

    Like the Queens of Nubia

    Sallahu ala Muhammad! Sallahu alayhi was sallam!

    Then beyond the display

    Of my urban madness

    A pistachio tree

    I encountered with gladness

    The limbs shivering

    With the breezes of Oneness

    The leaves whispering

    Shimmering with abundance

    Sallahu ala Muhammad! Sallahu Alayhi Wa Sallam!

    The roots of the tree

    Spoke to me in a dialect

    The fruits of the tree

    Was a map to redirect

    “To find the essence

    When you’re feeling remoteness

    Recite this sentence

    Tune in to the gnosis.”

    Sallahu ala Muhammad! Sallahu Alayhi Was Sallam!

    THANK YOU DEAR NHS!

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    There’s a group of heroes
    Enough we can not stress
    That deserve our gratitude
    They’re in our NHS!

    The doctors and the nurses
    And the workers and the porters
    They’re helping us negotiate
    Covid’s choppy waters!

    They’re working 12 hour shifts
    They put our safety first
    Without their stirling bravery
    Our health would be much worse!

    Despite the clear adversity
    Despite the challenges
    Despite the risks to their safety
    Despite the ravages

    These people just keep fighting on
    With undying dedication
    They are the darlings of the hour
    The pride of all the nation!

    Please make their lives more bearable
    By staying safe at home
    Stem the spread of Corona Virus
    Don’t let them fight alone!

    We pray that all the blessed staff
    Of our great NHS
    Manage to steer through this trauma
    Without unending stress

    And bless the souls who passed away
    Whilst caring for patients
    They are the martyrs of this war
    Which has rumbled since the ancients

    So every Thursday clap your hands
    Stand by your front door
    Say bravo to the NHS!
    They serve the rich and the poor.

    The Two Strange Men Of Kashgar

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    One day, two men were arrested at the Id Gah mosque in Kashgar and sent away for cultural citizenship education. Onlookers, rather stunned, watched as the men were ushered into the police van, while the accompanying officers scanned around for potential trouble. No one stirred as the officers jumped in the back of the van, next to the men, who were also seated silently. The authorities were expecting a massive uproar from the locals, especially as intelligence had uncovered that these two men were revered as holy men or healers, who lived on the streets and could heal supernaturally. But there was no resistance; no struggles. The locals seemed pacified and the two men just sat there calmly. Just as the van pulled away, a local grocer woman called out: “see you again, insha Allah.”

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