Archive for July, 2012
Based On A Daily Dua in the Month Of Ramadhan
Ayatullah Ali Qadhi Tabatabai
Ayatullah Ali Qadhi Tabatabai was born in Tabriz, Iran in the year 1869. He moved to Najaf at the age of 28 and was the teacher of several ulema such as Ayatullah Khui, Ayatullah Behjat, Ayatullah Zanjani, Ayatullah Marashi, Ayatullah Milani, Allamah Tabatabai and Ayatullah Dastaghaib.
It is narrated by Ustad Fatimi Niya, a student of Ayatullah Khui, that when Ayatullah Qadhi was in Najaf, Ayatullah Khui went to him and asked for instructions in some matters. It is said that he wanted instructions in spiritual exercises. Ayatullah Qadhi gave him some instructions.
Ustad Fatimi Niya continues that one night Ayatullah Khui went to Ayatullah Qadhi who showed him a vision of his future. Ayatullah Khui saw in front of him a man resembling him who slowly began to age. He saw the man give classes in Masjid-e-Hindi in the holy city of Najaf. Ayatullah Khui saw the old man resembling him issue fatawa and saw that his risala amaliya was published. After some time, he heard the a from the loudspeakers of Masjid-e-Kufa someone announce the news of his own death.
When the vision was over, Ayatullah Qadhi turned towards Ayatullah Khui and told him, “This was your life, from now until your death. You have a good future. Now you may go.”
Allamah Tabatabai, the author of Tafsir al-Mizan, narrates that his brother Allamah Ilahi sent a question to Ayatullah Qadhi through on of his students. He asked about the carpet of Prophet Sulaiman (peace be upon him) on which the Prophet and his entire court sat and travelled from the east to the west. Allamah Ilahi asked whether the carpet was a physical object that was manufactured or a miracle of Allah without physical dimensions.
When the student posed this question to Ayatullah Qadhi, he replied, “I do not know the answer to this question. However, one of the creatures that was alive at that time and participated in this journey is still alive. I will go and ask him.”
Ayatullah Qadhi and the student proceeded towards a distant mountainous region. When they reached a certain mountain, a creature resembling a human being came forward and engaged in conversation with Ayatullah Qadhi. The student could not comprehend anything of their conversation. When Ayatullah Qadhi returned he told the student, “The creature from the mountain says that it was from the miracles of Allah through the winds that Prophet Sulaiman (peace be upon him) was allowed to control and not a physical object.”
Ayatullah Qadhi did not only know of the existence and location of this creature from thousands of years ago, he also spoke the language and was able to have a conversation with him.
Ayatullah Sayyid Hussain Burujerdi
Ayatullah Sayyid Hussain Burujerdi was born in Burujerd in the Lorestan province of Iran in 1875. He revived the Qom hauza, which had waned after the death of its founder Ayatullah Haeri in 1937.
Ayatullah Burujerdi was amongst the first maraje to send representatives to countries outside the Shia-dominated Middle Eastern countries. He sent representatives to as far as Germany, Pakistan, Lebanon and Saudi Arabia.
He also established relations with Shaykh Mahmud Shaltut, the grand sheikh of al-Azhar. The two were founders of the House For Brining Muslim Sects Nearer, which is based in Cairo. Shaltut was also responsible for issuing the famous fatwa that recognized the Shia faith as part of Islam.
It has been narrated that Ayatullah Burujerdi had made a vow that were he ever to utter inappropriate words out of anger, he would fast for a whole year. One day he was giving his classes and a student raised an objection to one of his statements. He answered the student’s query and wished to move on, but the student raised another objection that Agha also answered. However, the student raised an objection for the third time, at which point Agha said in an annoyed tone, “be quiet, young man.”
It is said that after finishing the class Agha, having realized what he had done, called the student forward and in front of the whole class kissed his hand and said, “forgive the mistake of Burujerdi! I do not understand how the reins of my soul slipped from my hands and why I asked you to be quiet in front of everyone.” From the very next day, Ayatullah Burujerdi began fasting and proceeded to do so for the next year, for something that was neither inappropriate nor uncalled for. Indeed he had a lofty status.
Allamah Nawahandi, who used to lead the congregational prayers in the Holy Shrine in Mashad, narrates that when Ayatullah Burujerdi went to visit the holy city, Ayatullah Nawahandi asked him to lead the prayers and prayed behind him out of respect.
Allamah Nawahandi later visited the holy city of Najaf in the same year. He says that when he went there, Ayatullah Isfahani – who used to lead congregational prayers at the Holy Shrine – asked him to lead the prayers and prayed behind him. Allamah Nawahandi narrates that he was surprised that a man of Ayatullah Isfahani’s status, someone who had received letters from the Imam of our time, was giving him so much respect.
Allamah narrates that as he prepared to start the prayers, he heard a voice from the tomb of Imam Ali saying, “you showed respect to my son Burujerdi, so we have also honored and respected you, by making Sayyid Abulhasan Isfahani pray behind you.”
Note; Click to enlarge
I’m Muslim and no-one can deny for me that title
Nor can it all the worship I carry out belittle
This, to those who tell me what I believe, my rebuttal
And of an oath toward my beliefs, but a renewal
* * *
I believe in the Lord and to him is no division
Nor can he be multiplied or attributes be given
He who cannot be described by the words of a poem
Neither will do justice to Him a heart in submission
* * *
And in the seal of the Prophets my soul testified
His words embedded as gold within my own heart abide
To each tongue that stands and tells me this saint you have denied
Live in your arrogance whilst I take this saint as my pride
From a heart strung in purity I’ve built all my moral
Mohammed and this heart I remember with each quarrel
Toward morals that want to learn he’s the holy grail
The key to success behind every successful tale
* * *
The crown on my head is the peak of very eloquence
The letters of his name, Ali, welded very patience
For years men study him and yet shrouded is his essence
Whilst we live his lovers and are orphans in his absence
He who taught me ‘speech’ is silver but golden is ‘silent’
And with this speech is shaped to be wise and self-dependant
I learned to drag tragedy in chains by being patient
Whilst men sleep forgotten by time, Ali stands defiant
* * *
The pearl of my heart is the mistress of every woman
A school of lessons and morals toward those who listen
She who taught that a woman’s voice, though it remains hidden
Can level mountains and kingdoms when it fights oppression
She taught me though a woman should be treated like a rose
Beneath its petals lies her valour that streams in her woes
A woman’s voice is embedded in all even her foes
Like a woman’s name from her husband’s heart never goes
* * *
Full of beauty the Master of the youth of Paradise
Even Muhammad’s heart this Hassan’s beauty would entice
Beauty in his hunger, when morsels of food would suffice
So that the poor would be given all that he’d sacrifice
From him I learnt to even at the face of despair smile
To comfort your enemy when he throws on you a trial
To let a clean and loving heart meet with one that is vile
And to forgive one its sins when it walks down death’s aisle
* * *
With the Master of martyrs my very heart-beat aligned
And every path possible to me, toward him I signed
A heart that is not understood by the greatest of minds
An undying flame that can’t be explained nor be defined
He who with his blood upon dust taught every uprising
The voice of the oppressed does not die with the sun rising
Neither does truth falter when for its soul you are fighting
Fighting with your words or with the pen with which you’re writing
* * *
Ali Sajjad the spiritual upliftment of my prayer
Moulded my mind’s perception of my Lord, made it aware
He who shivered before prostration, before he would share
The deepest fears of his heart’s beyond with his Creator
From this surviving son, the prince of all those who prostrate
I learnt that prayer is the factor to every final fate
Words that shape our moral let alone open Heaven’s gate
Prayers that in beings both humility and love create
* * *
Take my hand and let me show you the splitter of knowledge
The fifth of a line of princes, yet where is his coverage?
Ignored is Baqir whilst to unaware he’s leverage
Toward your wounds of ignorance O’ Shia a bandage
From him I learnt knowledge in each soul is a prime factor
It differs between the prestigious and other numbers
Whilst our people are divided into camps and sectors
To each secluded camp I say Baqir is my scholar
* * *
To the truthful the Lord guided this once ungrateful fool
So I kiss the tears of the hand that built that very school
Imam Sadiq, the truthful, each word he spoke was a tool
To craft a university, with God’s word as its rule
I was blessed to study in this school, a minor student
To be called a Shia make’s life worth each precious moment
And what a school, that crowns kings those who are obedient
He who serves this Household unlike any other servant
* * *
And then my eye turns to the companion of a jail
Who held onto hope even when it held to no avail
Even when patience was not a word and weaved in brail
Kathom rewrote the word patience in intimate detail
And from him I learnt that when despite being imprisoned
The ability to worship, one is still conditioned
And when life as a jail the believer has envisioned
His heart and his soul daily for worship has petitioned
* * *
I walk across deserts to find the strangest of strangers
Devoid of his family and living amongst dangers
A stranger in a strange land our Imam Ridha wanders
Whilst taunts this king, silent whispers of a thousand murders
Yet from the syllables of his name I learnt to be pleased
Even when every blessing toward me my Lord has ceased
Even when for whatever reasons I am mocked and teased
Even when between my hands my own heart sits torn and deceased
* * *
From the youth that is Jawad the overly generous
He who taught to give away what to you is most precious
Despite that against him were crimes oppressive, atrocious
He smiled in the face of tragedy, thankful and gracious
As I stand on the final edge of the age of my youth
He taught me each day I age must bring me closer to truth
Whether it’s the adam of my apple or the wisdom in my tooth
I’ve no excuse to not know God with every inch of growth
* * *
I paint to you the defining moment of oppression
When Hadi’s shrine around him in twisted wreck is ridden
They proved their aim is not to guard their view of religion
But to burn love and memory of Fatima’s children
But it does not matter, as his name means the one who guides
And his lovers still flock to him like the sea’s very tides
It’s beyond the title Shia, it’s beyond taking sides
It’s the never extinguishing love that in us abides
* * *
And that is why our beloved Imam Askeri they killed
Because it burns them that within his Shia he’s instilled
To the extent that we would obey whatever he’d willed
It eats them that with his murder, with grief the hearts are filled
It eats them that our children, the hearts of our eyes we name
If it’s a girl Fatima, a boy Hassan or Hussain
That we let the love of Ali flow through their very veins
That we teach them Zainab’s patience, before they know the sky rains
* * *
Our prayer since Zainab with Hussain’s severed head confided
Since Abbas to not quench his thirst before Hussain decided
Since a three-pronged arrow in the baby’s neck abided
O’ Lord return to us Mehdi the guided
He who’d instil in this world justice and prosperity
And remove all memory of any calamity
Heed cries of the oppressed when their cries were once profanity
Give the mind intellect when it knew but insanity
And when from the smoke of death and cries you see him rising
Know that justice embodied has begun his uprising
His mission, from morality he’d be exercising
Of stability to an unstable world comprising
* * *
This is the Household that from strings of Heaven have been thread
When the first is Muhammad and the last is Muhammad
Hearts captured by their trance as their teachings continue to spread
As this Household of gold over the world becomes widespread
I’m Shi3i, and no-one can tell me what I should have believed
Because they don’t know about the names that in my heart are weaved
How can it be that by love of this house one is deceived?
When my heart beats their obedience with every breathe I’ve breathed
* * *
Karbala/London – 19/02/11
Please click on Images to Enlarge
Worlds apart I search for the road from me to you O’ Hussain
What veils and what worlds exist between myself and Hussain?
Can one who the heart has stolen… be worlds apart from his servant?
* * *
He who wanders the world of love… I stand alone at this world’s end
My eye searches for your figure… so to your wounds I can attend
And yet still worlds apart I stand… even if worlds your love transcends
I wish when you stood there alone… my hand to you I could extend
Is it fair that I can’t soothe you… yet to all of my wounds you tend?
I wish when swords upon you preyed… that my Master I could defend
I stand on the edge of one world crying out your name, Hussain
And my tears that drip down reshape to write your name O’ Hussain
Can he who’s love destroys reason… be worlds apart from his servant?
* * *
Is it fair that time can stand still… when I’m entranced by your mention
Yet it won’t go back centuries… to days of your tribulation
Is it fair that you come to me… in each hopeless situation
But I cannot return to you… when left you there a whole nation
And you stood there amongst the dead… in your eyes but death’s reflection
Drawn in your eye the tears that saw… on Hussain the world’s desertion
Tell me how the eye that sees this notices me O’ Hussain?
How does the man that walks with death seek life in me O’ Hussain?
Can he who his love times strengthen… be worlds apart from his servant?
* * *
Though time draws us further apart… fires in me you’ve created
So when my mind recalls your day… I feel your pain on me weighted
I see your day as clear as day… within my eye illustrated
I weep upon my hand my tears… tears and images they’ve painted
As clear as I can see this hand… on it with horrors I’m greeted
I see fire chase tent to tent… and how your daughters are treated
No it’s not just your eye that saw these tragedies O’ Hussain
Millions witness your day and weep beside you O’ Hussain
Can he who gives men his vision… be worlds apart from his servant?
* * *
I live in dreams with such deep love… some dreams all I see is beauty
Others, my heart stops in its tracks… and my eyes see calamity
They see the sun on the sky perched… as it taunts young tongues so thirsty
They see arrows thirsty for blood… and swords see death as a bounty
Indeed I’m taunted by your love… it can shape the heart as mighty
Yet it can tear that heart apart …and I break down, a man empty
What love that gives the heart joy, yet makes the eye weep for Hussain
And yet both in smiles and cries all it calls for is Hussain
Can the cause of such emotion… be worlds apart from his servant?
* * *
When veils between worlds are lifted… will you hear me cry out your name?
Will you search for the voice that calls… for its beloved and burning flame
Will your forget that your suffering… a soul for this voice it became
So that each time it sought good deeds… your message it longed to enflame
Will you recall those who served you… is that not why to us you came?
O’ he who needs servants, please know… my need for you is just the same
When we are judged will you hear the voice that cries out O’ Hussain?
What is judgement if we are not rescued by you O’ Hussain?
Can he who holds such a burden… be worlds apart from his servant?
* * *
London – 24/10/11
May I please take along,
The coffee mug from Rome I got,
And the perfume, expensive one,
The movie star which had endorsed?
The paintings all original ones,
Shipped in especially from New York,
The Diamond Studded wallet too,
that set the whole family talk.
The chocolates, finest from England,
The watch, exclusive from Japan,
My favourite novels and Cd’s,
The carpet brought in from Iran.
If not all these, at least my pride,
kindly allow me to carry,
Badgets, credits, certificates,
My prizes all and my trophies.
Gizmos,Gadgets that all envy,
The souvenirs I gathered on way,
On journeys made around the globe,
Will my world credit card work there?
What was that? Did you just say no?
but baggage for a trip must stay,
If its excess,at least a few,
Oh please, oh please, tell me I may.
“Your Journey is a Final One,
Your rules are those that are forbade,
Sorry, no baggage that you want,
Only Transactions that you made.
Transactions that would profit you,
Or ones which put you in Distress,
Your credits will multiply more,
But Debits any,will make less.
Please don’t take Dollars or Euros,
For they do not activate there,
Hope you’ve arranged our currency,
to make you happy all the way.
Good Deeds are the coins you will need,
Transactions of deeds that gave joy,
To your Lord, Parents and others,
In that World, deeds are your envoy.
It’s too late now to think of this,
You must go with me there indeed,
Possessions, yours, if any at all,
Are sent already, your good deeds.”
——- Sadia Batool Zaidi