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While taking walks with Asif Sahab, my favorite part is when everyone just sits down and allows themselves to engross completely in the story he is telling. It's fun watching grown-ups cupping their chins, their facial expressions almost dancing to the tunes of stories.
I have written too much about the last walk I attended. Trust me, my expressions are just the tip of a massive iceberg - It's so minute compared to what I actually feel.
The scenario is still the same. We all are sitting around Asif Sahab when he told us this story.
Wait. Don't forget to take a bellyful of breath, Sit back, and relax.
Shall we begin?
Once upon a time, there was a soldier who came to the small room where Hazrat Nizammudin Aulia was sitting against the wall. His right leg was folded, his thigh pressing his belly softly. He was staring at something with his eyes half closed. The soldier greeted him with his humble Salam and sat right in front of him. It was a hot afternoon. The scorching heat was making everything too uncomfortable. But Hazrat was smiling at him.
"Nizam Saheb, I have a humble request. You have never sent me back without listening to my fariyads, my requests. I'm not capable enough to offer you anything. With your blessings, my wife has conceived. I really don't know how to bid my thanks to you." He took out a little piece of cloth bundle from his pocket. The soft sound of the jingling of coins made the silent room animated for a second.
"Please accept these on my behalf. This is just a little gift that I would like to present every month."
Hazrat was just smiling, staring at something on his right. He closed his eyes for a while, humming an inaudible prayer. When he opened his eyes back, there was no one in the room, just a little bundle of shiny cloth kept near Hazrat's foot.
The much-awaited shower turned the whole environment melodious. It was a great opportunity for each Sufi to come out of their chamber and remember the Almighty together. The whole evening was lit with the 'Sama'. It was known to everyone that Hazrat enters into a trance state listening to all the poetic offerings other Sufis have to offer in the holy kingdom of the Almighty. He generally raises his right hand towards the sky, shivering at a phenomenal pace - Denoting a strong connection between him and the Almighty, as if he is holding his hand.
But that evening it was just not happening. Everyone was just waiting for it. And Hazrat was so upset with this. When your beloved denies holding your hand as he used to, that feeling is synonymous with death.
He closed his eyes and a vague image of that shiny bundle of cloth flashed right in front of his eyes. He called that soldier and returned him that bundle.
I was confused, unable to understand the correlation between the two events. How connection with the Almighty and that shiny bundle of coins connected, which will be coming right at his feet every month.
Asif Sahab then came to the rescue of my confusion.
A Sufi should not be dependent on any kind of regular source of income, in any form. It's actually a symbol of distrust toward the Almighty. The one who has sent you on this planet is capable enough to take care of you in every sense. He will take care of all the arrangements which are required for your well-being. You just need to trust him.
And here I'm, spending so many sleepless nights, thinking about how will I manage in such a cruel world Blah! Blah! Blah!
How much do I need to accumulate for shady days Blah! Blah! Blah!
Trust - from now on I consider this as the first lesson of Sufism... and life as well.
The above story came to me like a bullet, hitting me so hard that I felt like some serious physical destruction. But I'm relieved and happy about that destruction.
With prayers and hope that you also face this kind of destruction.
Love, Laughter, and Peace
HRN
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