Mustafa and Ali stood outside Masjid Abu Bakr, which was nestled into the corner of ancient Walford street and the adjoining Stratham Road. Row upon row of red bricked, terraced, Victorian houses dominated the scene. Busy traffic zoomed by as Friday evening had arrived; the sun was settling for its slumber, and the late-night shopping districts were now warming up for the oncoming shoppers.
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A murid called his sage with yearning eyes
“Show me the secrets of your enterprise…”
“Okay,” the sage replied, “let it be told
With this spade that I give you dig a hole
And dig until you find the quenching water
Then drown in it your vices and their daughters
When you are pure and washed, prepare your eyes
For the boundless secrets of our enterprise.”
The shaykh led the murid to a special pit
And showed the spade and how to dig with it
“Keep digging for the water, don’t give up
Don’t let the fiends of doubt your hopes disrupt!”
And so the seeker dug on through the day
And through the night without any dismay
But as the days went on although he cried
No water came although he tried and tried
The shaykh appeared again, “Keep digging my dear friend
The deeper that you dig, the deeper your great end!”
And on the final day murid was really straining
The shaykh arrived to beautify this training
“Have you discovered water yet my son?
Have you tasted the water of the One?”
The murid cried with anguish, “my dear Shaykh!
I’ve dug without success my heart it really aches!”
And then the Shaykh so soft were his deep eyes
Some wondrous tears appeared light and divine
Each tear fell in the hole with the murid
In just a glance it filled up to his knees
And then below the earth gave way and bled
Fresh water merged with tears the sage had shed
The murid dived and bathed in flowing water
The secrets of the way in his soul’s quarters
And now a hole murid had strained to dig
Was like a lake refreshing, clear and big!
The murid returned to shore with his sage smiling
“My son you’ve found something so enterprising
But if you dug deeper for Allah’s sake
You would have found His ocean, not just a lake!”
For Shaykh Nuh Ha Mim Keller, may Allah bless him
Once there was a bold mureed of sorts
Who went and took his sufi shaykh to court!
He stood before the judge with indignation
The shaykh stood in the docks with resignation
“So what’s your case?” began the magistrate
As jury, public, media stood in wait:
“Dear judge,” began the bold mureed of sorts
“By this man I was guided, helped and taught
But now I’ve realised, he is of no use!
As he has subjected me to spiritual abuse!”
“Describe in detail your experience,”
The judge advised with this august appearance:
“Well,” said the mureed, “Let me start with this
He made me give my own ego the miss!
He forced me to reduce my reputation
By begging in the streets with humiliation
Then he said that I would be inspired
If I gave up my ego’s deep desires.”
The mureed wept, tears streaming down his face
He looked up to the judge: “Sorry your grace.”
“So what was the result?” enquired the judge
“Well here’s the crux of my permitted grudge
This sufi shaykh committed heresy
By making me forego my agency
He forced me to ingest unearthly wine
Which he said had appeared from the divine
And then I lost all concept of my self
All I could see was light and heavenly wealth
I was imprisoned in the malakut
Where angels served my needs all to my suit
But here’s the worst reality you see
All I could see was Him; nowhere was me!”
The mureed opened his indignant eyes
And stared around the court in great surprise
For judge and jury looking rather guilty
Now stood before the shaykh swearing their fealty!
The judge said: “dear mureed, you got us thinking
I think we’ll have what you have just been drinking!”
2022
Novid Shaid, 2002, Copyright
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Fervent fires are raging
During freezing nights,
Restless seas are writhing
In the stillest nights,
Ardent hearts are sighing
During silent nights,
Yearning for their cherished Friend,
He, who never dies.
By Novid Shaid, September, 2010
Innamaa hadhihi hayaatu mataa’ – “verily this life is full of struggles”- Young Fata to Dhun Nun Al Misri– Kitab Ul Futuwwa
Abadan tahinnu ilaykumu arwah – “forever do the spirits find rest with You” – Imam Shihaabudeen Suhwardi
…
When I was a restless youth
And my heart was searching for truth
A chance meeting transformed me
And I was born again, weeping like a baby.