 |
| Picture Source - Praveen Sir's Facebook Profile |
You know what, almost all my childhood stories started with 'Once there was a King'. And I always imagined Sultans and Badshahs - with a ghoul on his back or one with a magic carpet. But on the last walk I attended with Delhi Karavan, I understood a different meaning of true Kingship.
When I started attending walks with Delhi Karavan, my imagination started becoming more vivid. Slowly I could see different characters right in front of my eyes. I started sensing my imagination adding different colors to the characters - weaving garments with the magical threads as Asif Sahab provides more and more details.
Of all the walks I have attended, the last one was different. Though it's brutal to compare one walk with the other, the last one was closest to my heart.
It was one dark summer evening that lightened my soul.
I'll keep all the details of the walk reserved for some other article, for now just imagine a group of about twenty-five people sitting in the courtyard of Khanquah of Hazrat Nizamuddin Aulia, With Asif Sahab sitting almost in the center. A candle is lit in front of him.
Khanquah is a place where Sufis commence their holy practices of unification with the Almighty. They stay there and spend years and years with the sole motive of making a connection with the Almighty. And Hazrat was the Sun among the stars when we talk about Sufism in Hazrat-e-Dilli.
The place where I was sitting has watched centuries after centuries, the establishment and destruction of various Sultanates. But Asif Sahab made me imagine everything with stories containing high intrinsic values. I cross my heart and say that I could imagine Hazrat right in front of my eyes. Though no writer is capable enough to describe his personality in mere words. Some might also consider it as blasphemy. On the other side, I felt him so close to me that his details are so vivid in my mind that I couldn't stop myself from writing them.
I would request you to take a bellyful of breath before reading ahead.
I imagine a dark evening. If you look at this place from a decent distance, you will see multiple oil lamps lit, flickering as the evening is a little windy. There are dozens of small chambers. In each chamber, a Sufi is sitting doing different holy practices. Some are reciting different names of the Almighty. Some are looking at the sky without blinking their eyes. Some are whispering something, inaudible to human ears, loud enough to reach the kingdom of the Almighty.
The rickety staircase was leading us above the structure. A wooden structure was erected there. There is a small room on the backside of the structure.
Hazrat is sitting in the leftmost corner of the room.
A small earthen lamp was lit right in front of him. One could sense the heavenly fragrance of multiple incense sticks, but it is difficult to locate even one.
Hazrat has a lean frame as he is not much dependent on food. A Sufi doesn't crave food. Hunger can't make him its slave.
He has a pair of pretty long arms. If you see him standing, you can notice his hands reaching the level of his knees. His eyes are sinking deep into their sockets, making his cheekbones look higher. His jawline is sharp. His hair is long and matted. His beard is bushy, long, and unkempt. His lips are turning white, dry as the desert. He is wearing an oversized white kurta, which definitely has seen whiter days.
He remains silent most of the time. He is sitting with his back placed softly against the wall. His head is up, staring up toward the sky - as if he is having a silent conversation with the Almighty. Now his head has turned down as he is asking for mercy from the maker. Sometimes there is complete silence in the room, one could hear his own breath. Sometimes there are sounds of giggles and chattering.
But Hazrat is indifferent to any such noise. He remains in a meditative state most of the time.
All through the course of the day people visit him with their Fariyads, their requests. He smiles gently at everyone. He listens to everyone. Speaks only when it is more than necessary. He bestows his blessings, requesting the Almighty to give Fariyadi whatever he desires. He is 'Mehboob-e-Ilahi', the beloved of the Almighty.
I was busy imagining all that when something crossed by my sight. I was sitting behind Asif Sahab, facing the Khanqah. There was a shadow or something dark which crossed between us. I'm not sure whether it was something tangible or I was just imagining. I have mentioned before that I have a quite vivid imagination, which turns wild sometimes. But I don't mind whirling upon stories I'm listening to. And my imagination makes it effortless for me.
As the walk ended, I didn't feel like talking to anyone. I just wanted to keep that feeling clenched tight in my fists, making sure it doesn't slip. Only then I can place them close to my heart.
It was more of a trance state - Intoxicated with... I don't know what. But with all that intoxication I turn socially awkward. I really can't help it. I just turn a little more silent. But it's worth it.
I'll take your leave with a little message. If you like what's written above, don't forget to give a big thumbs-up to Delhi Karvan and Asif Sahab. It would be even more lovely if you could come and attend any of their walks.
If you are offended by anything while reading this, I deeply apologize, as I'm solely responsible for it.
Love, Laughter, and Peace
HRN
No comments:
Post a Comment