Saturday, June 17, 2006
I came across this poem on Tablighis on one of the many websites. Enjoy...
easy target for criticism,
Attacks against them launched with cynicism
Politically unaware, Intellectually Docile,
Painted by some as simplistically puerile
But I must hasten to disagree,
And quote to you some history
To prove the nature of my claims
And perhaps to defend their noble aims
When Hinduism was spreading in Mewat,
And muslims were losing iman from the heart,
A spiritual man arose who stood apart,
And founded what we now know as tableeghi jamaat
Who knew this spark of love would spread like fire,
For the situation seemed quite dire,
It transformed darkness to illumination,
And rescued the sunnah from devestation
Empty masjids cried floods of tears,
As no worshippers made sujood for many years,
And then crowds came back and thronged their floors,
You can see angels smile, and the heavens echo with applause.
The dhikr of Allah is being revived by their crowds
Throughout the lands jam'aahs travel like rain-bearing clouds
Bringing much sought for water to thirsty lands,
And turning to luscious green arid desert lands.
Some people may be unaware of this information ,
That mawlana Ilyaas was an initiated sufi master
But he saw the mutasawifs and ulema remaining aloof from their congregation,
Whilst Indias muslims plunged into great disaster
So he took the da'wah out to the masses,
Like Bees flying on journeys making honey in stashes,
Unknown inhabitations became Honeycombes sweet,
Where millions of muslims gather and meet
They left their families and their abodes,
And embarked on difficult dusty roads,
Travelling for the pleasure of the divine,
To replace the darkness of postmodernity with the sunnah's shine.
Embryonic change happens in Forty Days,
Strange Indeed are Allah's ways,
Dont call this number a reprehensible innovation,
Perchance it be a sign of your lack of academic discrimination.
In the way of Allah each step they tread,
But only for jihaad this should be said?
Open the hadeeth work of bukhari- the chapter on JUMUAH,
ya akhee f'illah,
In that very chapter not about jihad, it quotes the hadeeth of the feet being covered with dust Fee sabeel illah
How many a former drug addict I have encountered in these lands,
Whose previously injecting hands are enshrouded with ancient sins
And now he sits in the house of God with a tasbeeh in his hands
Those same hands make dhikr on those beads of strings
How many a robber who used to steal,
How many a zaani who shamed the earth's surrounds
How many a musician singing profane sounds
Now recounts God's Jalal-it makes him yell out squeals
And now the earth begins to smile, as he prostrates and as he kneels...
How many a face- black white and yellow from every schism
Sit on a mat and eat together their repast
Whilst politicians talk of the problems of racism
Oh This is not out problem- a thing of the past.
He makes nadaama and in tawbah turns
His heart with Love of Allah yearns
God Bless you Oh dearest mawlaana ilyaas
How beautifully you turned Yaas Into Aas
From the orient to the occident
And from the south right to the north
Crowds emerge with intentions heavenly bent
And taking Allah's name alone, they come forth
Pakistanis, Caucasians, Mayalsians, Africans, And Turks
Chinese, Eskimo, and russian faces
Ethnicities unheard of fill masjids where traces,
Of their forefathers are written in historical works.
Whilst nations sit before cathode rays,
That titillate their eyes with their enticing ways,
These men rebel against satan's invitation
And turn to the work of the prophets-driving iblees to frustration
They sit of the floor as it indents their knees,
They know not of Nietzsche, Hume, Kant or Socrates,
They couldnt perhaps recount ghazzali or avicenna's complex kalaam,
But the dhikr of Allah makes their souls calm
This is not to deny the place of the mutaklimeen,
Without whom we would be in disarray,
But for the awaam such complex arguments can lead astray
So let dhawq and wijdaan provide them with yaqeen.
They are not by tales of Machiavelli's prince infected
The sahabas stories motivate their lives
Such dark political ideologies before such heros stand rejected
Upholders of truth and self sacrifice
They hold no huge political rallies protesting to creation
In the nights they stand in prayer before the answer of every supplication
And with tears flood the floors begging for mercy and rejuvenation
Once more gifting glory to the Ummah of the best of creation
Don't approach the worldy kings -they cannot protect,
A Pretzel falls into their tracheas, almost suffocating
Such a small little thing He cannot eject?
How will he give Honour to those who stand outside the white house waiting?
They couldnt tell you about quantum mechanics or Hawkings
They couldnt refute Darwinian thought or the reductionism of dawkins
They dont know that much of Heisenbergs principle of uncertainty
For to them the kalimah is a deeply rooted certainty
They might not know Chomskys views on Linguistic Bayaan,
Or how Steven Pinker's instincts about neurolinguistics fit,
But they have of a surety read soorah rahman
And know that language is from Allah a merciful Gift.
And not the product of random forces without end,
Or indeed a blind watchmaker -No my friend
The blindness is in your hearts-not the maker of harmony
So with Ahsan-ul-qawl..They call To the Absolute with humility
On the Day of Reckoning when the Prophets say nafsee nafsee...
Perhaps Dawkins will smile, albeit, temporarily
Thinking "Ah My Selfish Gene Thesis was true"
Even these prophets are exhibiting ultimately a selfish hue
But Then Mustafa shall come and say Ummati Ummati...
Such selflessness which will cause his theory to terminate suddenly,
This is the beloved of Allah, and this maqam you cannot explain scientifically,
So Discard Dawkins Memes for Muhammad(saw)'s MEEM
They fall not prey to materialism or such bakwaas,
They see the divine hand behind each moving leaf,
In fact they are aboard a noah's ark constructed by mawlana ilyaas,
They hold on to the sunnah with their teeth
Of Freud's oedipus complex they remain unaware
Or indeed of changing uncertain paradigms
Imaan, Salaah, the 6 points are in the air
The kaafirs who promote intellectual kufr will pay for their crimes
Qiyamah is before their eyes
Not mere logical premises philosophers surmise
But deep rooted convictions that change their lives
You don't have to read volumes to be called wise
Those of us who study in intellectual arrogance
Forget rumi's tales of the lover's simple acceptance
The intellect is still looking for its transportation
Love has circled the ka'ba 7 times in dedication
posted by Niqabi at 2:19 AM
jummah mubarak to you too!:)
wow, that was neat.
thanks for sharing.
For some reason I couldn't comment on your 'Farewell' post.
I'll miss your blogging. If you could recommend any other Muslim blogs I'd appreciate it. I hope you keep reading my blog.
Stay in touch.
plzz dun do this!!!i'll miss yr bolg immensely...it has played a significant role in changing my life..plzzz....keep on writing...ive also recommended it to many ppl around here...or if u plan to continue writing thn wht sorta writing n where???
my yahoo n msn not connectin at all as u knw how much net suxx big time in khi..so cudn't talk 2 u there...but plzzz DO NOT STOP WRITING!!!!!
Miss you :(
hey, don't throw in the towel just yet.
I understand abt not wanting to blog anymore. May bless you in the efforts you make to imporove yourself inside.
Please dont take this blog down tho, the links and content here I'm sure will be of benefit to readers and if you do get time for a comeback you wont have to setup from scratch
yes, I am...but are u??? Howdy!
MOHSIN HASAN said...
AAS SALAM AALYE KUM,
VERY BEAUTIFUL POEM
straight from the heart & nlightning
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Daud Khan said...
Jummah mubarik ho ap ko bhe
Islamic Audio said...
It would be good if you started updating this blog every now and then.
Location: Lahore, Pakistan
Interests: World War II, Jews, Hebrew, ancient sites, Muslim rule in Spain, revolutions, Vatican city and Islamic literature.
Books: The black album, Portofino, Ladies coupe, In beautiful disguises, The buddhist of Suburbia, The hidden life of Otto Frank.
Contact: niqabified [at] gmail [dot] com
Quote: "We plan and Allah plans and Allah is the best of planners"