I met the Qalander, Sufi & a Saint [4 of 4]

There are five basic principles for the follower of the Holy Prophet (P.B.U.H). One who is in search of God, curbs one’s self to come out of “the self” to break the magnetism of existence, continuous bowing in God’s love and be perished in His love. He claims I’m in love with God and it is a non communicable thing
This love is tempestuous, victorious and triumphant. It gives grace, independence and grandeur of a King.
Then with closed eyes, his track changed, he said person loves God and He loves perishable pain and pangs. He gives Wah! Wah!
“Ranjish Hi Sahi, Dil Hi Dukhanay Ke Liye Aa
Aa Phir Se Mujhe Chhorh Kay Janay Ke Liye Aa”.
I looked at Imtiaz Bukhari, the Qalander was in his mood. Then he was transported from despondency to fulfillment:
“Ku Baku Phael Gyi Baat Shanasai Ki,
Uss Ne Khushbu Ki Tarah Mairi Pazeerai Ki”
He was uttering these verses at much farthest and loftiest levels. Of course the poet of these verses had not touched those levels, but he the Qalander, was reading them in another context and the beauty and dimension of these verses was never ending and it was ever-growing.
·

MET THE QALANDER, SUFI AND A SAINT

·

by Farah Karamat Raja

·

He stated there are five basic principles for the follower ofthe Holy Prophet (P.B.U.H).  One who is in search of God, curbs one’s self to come out of “the self” to break the magnetism of existence, continuous bowing in God’s love and be perished in His love.

He claims I’m in love with God and it is a non communicable thing. This love is tempestuous, victorious and triumphant. It gives grace, independence and grandeur of a King.

Then with closed eyes, his track changed, he said person loves God and He loves perishable pain and pangs. He gives Wah! Wah!

Ranjish Hi Sahi, Dil Hi Dukhanay Ke Liye Aa
Aa Phir Se Mujhe Chhorh Kay Janay Ke Liye Aa”.
I looked at Imtiaz Bukhari, the Qalander was in his mood. Then he was transported from despondency to fulfillment:
“Ku Baku Phael Gyi Baat Shanasai Ki,
Uss Ne Khushbu Ki Tarah Mairi Pazeerai Ki”

He was uttering these verses at much farthest and loftiest levels. Of course the poet of these verses had not touched those levels, but he the Qalander, was reading them in another context and the beauty and dimension of these verses was never ending and it was ever-growing.

I was surprised to see his wife, with large and beautiful eyes; what surprised me most was, there was red color in the eyes too, burning red color of perishing love. It is too much in her husband’s eyes that I noticed earlier. So red they are, that he can’t even open them, the fiery intoxication of love keeps them closed from the worldly light, but the light and eyes of insight are brighter and clearer than any sunlight or visual eye can grasp.

As I said before, Sufis’ wives are specially designed for them and they are also in the way of God. The bond between them is greater and much satisfying than bond of love, friendship and understanding. It is their bond of love for God. Most surprising are the common characteristics which are quite vivid in their lives, in their attitudes, in their habits, on their faces and in their hearts. They are not two, they are one.

I am sure their wives play a great and major part in their success. They are simple, polite, generous and kind, supporting their husbands, rich in spirituality and never demanding gold bangles or diamond rings, neither from their spouses nor from God.

She cooks delicious haleem[13] for the Langar[14]serves it, whether it is roasting heat of June or the harsh weather of January. She understands her spouse, and she never interferes with her husband’s affairs in any way, she rather compliments him in all the ways. Honest and pious comforting wives, special bestows of God upon his virtuous men in this world.

He said I despised and disliked dancing. Even when I was staying in the graveyard for concentration of my ibadat, that was a strange time, I never wore any shoes, just a long “nicker” and I used to draw water from the well through a “Boqa” (a bucket like pitcher of water) and then I used to take that bucket to the grave, wherever a man or a woman may want to, I felt great peace by serving those heart-broken people.  Walking barefoot on the thorns of shrubs, it never hurt me, I was insensitive to such pains and the people who used to come to visit the graves, tried to give me alms but when they looked at my face, they couldn’t dare offer me a single penny. They knew I am on a special duty.

“There in the graveyard, I severely beat once the Faqirs, they were dancing after taking Bhang (extract of Cannabis leaves). Also one day I saw some foreigners dancing as well. I asked then who are you and why are you here. They replied that they were British and had come here in search of God. I asked, have you got Him? They said, yes, they were badly drunk and had taken a high dose of Bhang, they were dancing madly and they thought it was a religious experience.” I went to the Darbar[15] of Sakhi Lal Shahbaz Qalander Sarkar. I saw a burning candle in golden mirror and upon that mirror, God’s name was written, a voice came from my inside: How beautiful, He must be whose name is so beautiful”.

There was drum beating outside as well as inside, perhaps all senses joined to perceive one side or all sides were merged in one dimension in one perpendicular, in one beat, in one rhythm, and in this Oneness of, heart mind, spirit I felt ALLAH inside my jugular vein, that jugular vein was outside , the beat of the drum was not outside, it was in my pulse, instinctively I jumped into “Dhamal”[16]. Lal Qalander who was he, someone else or myself, who was ALLAH, someone outside or someone inside, but I knew He was ONE, the drummer and the drumbeat from where it came from someone else, from somewhere out or from inside, I knew not but I knew I am dancing in the oneness of rhythm, I am dancing on the pulse of jugular vein.


“FAQIR”


Baba Qaim Din lives in Gali No. 1, Pir Colony, Walton Road, Lahore. He is nearly eighty; his door is always open for every one. You only have to knock and enter. There he sits on a charpoy; there is strange smell of desi medicines prepared by Baba himself. Room gives the look of a slum, specially when it rains, with foul smell of all the medicines. There are two marble slabs by his bedside, the one which are used as epitaph. Once I said to him, “Your room was dripping all night and you couldn’t sleep well during the whole night specially when it is so cold. So many rich people visit you; nobody has even thought about making a room for you”. Baba smiled and said, “Yes, so many of them do want to, but a Faqir doesn’t need a palace to live in. Secondly, now I will build my own tomb. It is time for my grave to be built, and I tell you I will benefit people more after death. Whoever will come to my tomb and will pray for something, my God will give him that (Insha Allah).

There is an expensive carpet on the floor presented by a bureaucrat but that too has become carpeted with mud and soil. There are iron chairs for visitors to sit upon, Baba himself sits upon a charpoy, there are medicines in big brown bags, which lie on the floor (mud), some on the charpoy. Whoever comes in sits on the chair – after shaking hands with Baba Ji. Baba then feels his pulse and within a second tells the complete detail of the disease. Then he gives a fist full of his home made medicine (from different weeds). In return whatever anyone wants to give, one rupee or ten rupee, he takes it. He wraps the medicine in simply torn pages of some book, but before handing it over he blows on it. Then he asks every one sitting over there to raise hands for prayer saying, “My Allah will get you well, don’t worry, every thing will be all right.

There are hundreds of people who come to him – not only from Pakistan but also from many other parts of the world. Many come to say thanks, for they say it was his medication which cured their disease and they had a child. His visitors include all sorts of people, the non Muslims, Muslims, rich businessmen, women, bureaucrats, common folk, poor people, illustrious men, all come to Baba Ji.

I don’t know whether it is his medicine, which cures, or it is his blow, which benefits. Baba says, “I was pressing the feet of my Pir when he asked, “What have you brought?” I said grains. Then Pir said, “You have brought grains for me, who will give you grains?” Baba said “Allah”. The Pir smiled and said, “You will give children to people by blowing on weeds”.

Concluded.

Previous: I met the  Qalander, Sufi & a Saint  [3 of 4]

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From the book “Prof. Ahmad Rafique Akhtar, The Mystery behind the Mystic” by Farrah Karamat Raja
[13] Haleem is the name of a meal. It’s made from all types of cereals and served at the community kitchens at the Darbars, religious shrines of saints, Sufi poets, Walis or Qalanders. [14] Langar is a community kitchen maintained at the shrines or the worshipping places of Pirs. [15] Darbar virtually mean a court, that of a king or a ruler. Devotees of Pirs, saints, Walis mention the name of the shrine, tomb or mausoleum of their Pir as Darbar (out of reverence). [16] Dhamal is a dance one does out of ecstasy at the shrines of Pirs or religious guides / teachers.
Photo Credits: 1. The Whirling Dervishes of Istanbul 2.  Islamic Calligraphy in blue 3. Mosque in Palestine
Disclaimer: The views expressed in all four parts of this article are the sole responsibility of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of the ‘Wonders of Pakistan’. The contents of this article too are the sole responsibility of the author(s). WoP will not be responsible or liable for any inaccurate or incorrect statements contained in this post.

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Published in: on 24/11/2009 at 1:46 pm  Comments (6)  
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