Chai Bash--opening the "teahouse of Experience".

Chai Baash….Sharbat Jaan

For externalists this world may be full of contradictions like my dervish friend from a village near Ghazni “ Sharbat Jaann” who is originally a “ Chai Bash”( incharge of serving tea) the beverage of the common people at a ChishtiYa Ribbat in the mountains of Afghanistan.
“ Nai Sharbat Jaan ! not now”. I said giving back the cup of tea offered by Sharbat Jaan. “ He who tastes, knows. He who tastes not, knows not.” He said to me resisting taking the cup back. Since then with every cup of tea, I try to remember the same taste, the same unveiling of the knowledge; introduced by a “ Chai Bash” my beloved Sharbat Jaan, half Tajik half Pashtun.
We were both staying at a Khanqah of a blind Tajik Shaykh near Dushanbe in Tajikstan; who has closed the shop of arguments and judgments and has opened the “ Chai Khana” the teahouse of experience. Sharbat Jaan once told me that Coffee, the most recent of social drinks, was discovered by Hazrat Abdul Hassan Shadhili, at Mocha in Arabia. And among dervishes it is considered as the Langar of Shaykh Shadhili . After listening all the tales of the magical and celestial drinks from Sharbat Jaan, I showed my intention to switch the duty from being “ Yaar Bash” ( head in charge of serving friends) to become “ Chai Bash”. There was glow on the face of Sharbat jaan; he said Hazrat Shams says “ is like a touchstone or a balance-scale; it always inclines towards the Truth.”
I had spent several years as a courtier, and some years looking after animals before I was sent to Tajikistan by my Shaykh to learn from the blind Tajik Shaykh and become “Chai Bash”. It was in his presence when I started learning aligning practice with current needs and collecting vestiges of the tradition from its roots. He used to repeat the words of Hazrat Ibrahim Khwas    
“Demonstrate the unknown in term of what is called “known” by the audience”.
The advantage of being “Chai Bash” is that one can get the latest news all the times. Sharbat while serving the tea to the people visiting me at Ribbat, heard that Pakistan is under debt country, and the institutions that give loan are imposing the strict conditions on government which is making their lives miserable.This is our family tradition to spend 9 nights annually at the shrine of Qibla-e-Aalam Hazrat Khwaja Nur Mohammed Maharvi r.a . This year I was joined by “Sharbat Jaan”.
It was Thursday night; we woke up to pray “Tahujd” prayers. Sharbat Jaan brought  a vessel of  warm water, and asked me to put my head into it for a moment. As soon as I had done so, found myself alone on deserted seashore, a place which I did not know. As I walked up the shore I saw a stone with an arrow pointing towards the highway for “The country of Fool”. Soon I met some hunters who asked me who I was. Unable to explain my true state, I told them that I was a shipwrecked. They were very kind to give me some clothes and food, and offered me to join them in hunting the Monkeys.
This was one specie dominated jungle, monkeys ruled the kingdom. There are different tribes of monkeys in this jungle and every tribe got a different psychology. To catch a monkey, one must be aware of how the monkey thinks. The head of the group was briefing while eating. “The first part is held by the Merchant Monkeys. Who wish to test his skills to enter to the first part of the jungle and get the golden arrow of success? The group leader asked the group. “I am ready to take the challenge” a young hunter sitting beside me shouted. But instead of speaking high of my skills and avoid, I want this stranger to be witness of the challenging hunt.
“I have been hunting for many years, and know much about the monkeys. The only thing I do not know is “Merchant”, since you appear to come from some civilization, guide me on this. The young hunter looked into my eyes and said. I told him my poor understanding of merchant class. Upon listening to me, he went into deep thoughts for some time, as if he was making some plan. He place two long necked crystal clear bottle and place two glittering stones in each of the bottle, and both of us camouflaged in the bushes.
After some hours a big fat monkey came down from his tree to get those glittering stones. After some experimentation, the monkey found that he could get hold of the shining stones by putting his hand into the bottle by way of the neck. As soon as he had done so, he closed his hands on stones in each bottle, but then he found that he could not withdraw his fists holding the stones, because it was larger than the internal dimension of the neck. On hearing the monkey’s whimpering, we came along and the monkey tried to run away. But, because his hands were, as he thought, stuck in the bottle, he could not move fast enough to escape. The Hunter had used the glittering stones, and the bottle, but he still had them.
On our way back deciding to say the prayers, I started to was in the water, when I suddenly and dramatically found myself back at the palace, with the vessel of water, and Chai Bash Sharbat Jaan.

Wandering with Khushada Dil.....surrendering mind.

Khusada Dil -2

From Previous……) Khushada Dil laughed back and said “certainly years my brother”…. He laughed in such a way that I didn’t doubt that he was lying. It was natural “ Who he was?”…a cold feeling of fear of unknown ran through my veins. All of sudden the quite atmosphere became more quite, the net of the wind started circling around my neck and the rope of the grass held me by my legs. I was unable to move any part of my body except the eye balls. In this still environment where the heart beat was at maximum low and the supply of oxygen to the brain very high; my eyes became the windows through which my intellect saw that it was a flat plain , and near the river bank behind a big rock a big cat with its back towards me was trying to fire the woods. I remembered the cat in the cell of the mystic. Is “Khushada Dil” a mysterious cat? I was on mountain and now it was a flat field with a river running through it”. Am I asleep? I tried to get out of this possible dream but all my effort to move my body did nothing but a realization that its real and this reality is so intense for my mind that if it was exposed to the light and with the flash became momentarily blind.

“Agha ! O Agha !” Khushada Dil was moving my shoulder; where are you lost my brother? He had a usual big smile on his face, as if he was enjoying my state of confusion. Where is the cat? I looked around but saw nothing. “ The cow becomes afraid when I milk, so if you need the tea with milk you got to milk the cow.” He placed a metal pot in my hand and showed me the cow. I moved hypnotically , and started milking the cow. The cow bend its neck and looked into my eyes, “ I am a cow, but you are human..Why are you following the orders of this big cat? I do not understand. The whole universe is for you the son of Adam, everything is created for you and always ready and waiting to be in your service. You are his guest and he made you milk me; the cat is very mean she knew that I won’t let her milk me so did she ask you to milk. Now hurry up and milk, I am very tired and need some sleep.” I was unable to move a single muscle after hearing this from the cow I was about to milk. “ Oh, why are you taking so long? Milk..Hurry” but looking a great fear in my wide open eyes. “ Oh , this is first time you are listening to the animal. Ok am giving you a cup of milk enough for one cup of tea and let this mean cat go to hell”. And with this a cup of milk was poured into the pot and the cow moved away.

As I turned towards Dilkhusha, I found that it was a heavy rain forest and again saw the back of the big cat near the fire. I felt great pressure on my brain nerves, nothing was in harmony..the body and mind were totally out of equilibrium. The cat turned its face towards me and now I saw the face of Khushada Dil. “ Oh, you mean cow.” He started laughing upon looking at the quantity of the milk in the pot; I just passed in his hands.  He held me from my hand asked me to sit near the fire with him.

“Agha, don’t put much pressure on your brains. It will take some time to digest all this. Your mind is haunted by the assumptions. Form is empty, emptiness is Form…as you have been learning for several years and now entering into other phase of “unlearning”…..try not to make any assumptions or judgments which are the real hurdles in the process of unlearning. People tend to persist in doing something after being told that it is absurd or unnecessary because continuing with this course pleases them more than adopting a correct one. Forget Who I am.


 How many times,
Will you drag yourself and me
Between us?
He, the goal of I and thou
Is there – right there!
Who is he?

He who manifests himself
Upon himself
Makes love to himself
In the name
Of lovers –
Who is he?
I am not important to know Agha.” Khushada said. I was gaining some strength, and slowly my nerves started releasing the tension.. I was certainly in some strange situation ; can’t comprehend so surrendered the thought process. And the clouds of fear started drifting; and with the each sip of the tea the wave of energy started breaking the stone I was feeling in my skull, and I was feeling the blood running through. That tea became a tonic for me and I asked him to pour some more tea in the cup. His back was of cat and front was all human. I decided to act upon his advice to take some time  and instead of asking about him waited for the right time for this mystery to be resolved.

“ Agha ! the master has left for the meeting. I am here to be in your service, so you are my master till he come. I beg your permission to meet my beloved “ Dilkhusha”. His father who is the King of his country is a very strict person and the lovers hardly find the way to meet. The father is so strict that now he has constructed a palace for her in the sky. If you want you can company me to the palace, or if you want you can take rest in the cell and I will return in the morning.” Khushada Dil said.

A mysterious date, and that also in the palace in sky. I couldn’t resist. “ But how we gonna go there? I can only walk on merciful earth.” I replied. “ we will go there on my wooden horse, all you need is to learn how to operate it.”..There are 28 screws carved on the horse, you need to know the science of operating the 28 screw. It is simple as if to learn the 28 letters of the alphabets……..it is as you will learn the language of the wood to give order to the wood to act on what you tell it." Saying this he went to bring this mysterious wooden horse.

Wandering with "Khushada Dil"

Kushada Dil...

During my stay at the city of "Osh" (the birthplace of Hazrat Qutab Uddin Bakhtiyar Kaki r.a now in present day Kyrgyzstan). I had heard of a mystic who wanders in the hillocks of Suleyman Gara ( the mountain of Prophet Suleyman a.s). Nobody knew where he lived, but almost every inhabitant of that city who had some interest in the spirituality or mysticism I met, mentioned that wandering mystic.
 I set out from Osh to seek this mystic. His fame was carried from mouth to mouth far and wide, and there were rumors that many high officials even during the USSR years had visited him several times. For every day I will take the Trolly Bus to reach near to the hillocks and then will wander in the hope that today my search will end and I will meet this mystic.  On the 6th day of my search a youth told me that somebody told him that there is a cell on the top of the other mountain where he was seen a week ago.
I reached this cell before the sunset. As I entered the small cell, and on saluting the mystic I found out that he had with him one cat he was feeding with milk. The mystic rose and embraced me, and offered me to sit on the only wooden chair. I said to the mystic “ In the name of God”, but he replied quoting from the Quran “ There is none of us but has an appointed place”. So I mounted on the chair and the mystic sat on the straw carpet and leather mat.
 It is during my early youth, I had graduated my High School, and was pursuing Russian Language to further continue the studies of medicine.
A very close friend of my maternal grandfather, descendant of Hazrat Baba Farid Uddin Masood Ganj Shakar r.a who himself was the writer of several books and a Sufi Shaykh kissed my forehead when I told him that I was going to the city of “Osh”. There is a mosque with one Minar in that city where our great master Hazur Qutab Paak started his studies of learning the Holy Book. It is the birthplace of Hazrat Qutab Uddin Bakhtiyar Kaki r.a . Do look for the first Madrassah of Qutab Paak”. I came to pay my last visit to the shrine of Qibla-e-Aalam Hazrat Khwaja Nur Mohammed Maharvi r.a in Chishtian Sharif.  He was coming out of the shrine and was waiting for his shoes when we met. “After your visit , come to my Library”.  After the visit I went to his house nearby and as I entered his library , saw a big welcome smile on his face, as if a lover was looking at the face of traveler who was about to set out on his journey to the city of the Beloved. The only advice I would like to give you young man is to always keep in your mind that you are not going there by yourself or by the efforts of your parents. You are being sent, so be in proper Adab. The rest I don’t know….
Now I was sitting before this mystic in his cell on a chair higher than hosts…..it was not proper “Adab” but elders have told that “ Amr fouq al adab” order is above adab. “If you have ablution we can pray the Meghrib prayers”, upon my positive node he asked me to lead the prayer. After the prayer, both of us sat on the straw carpet and he called for the food. An African looking tall young  Mongol with Oriad features entered in the cell with a tray of food, he invited me to eat from the only bowel filled with some Shorba and a plate of famous “Manty” steamed dumplings filled with ground meat and onions.
“ I did not see this boy outside your cell; is he your disciple? I asked the mystic. Oh he is “ Kushada Dil”….he comes to help whenever required but he is no servant or disciple. After the dinner he will take you to the other cell to sleep, if you need anything tell “ Kushada Dil”. We will now meet tomorrow night as I have to depart at mid-night to attend the ensemble of friends of Allah, and should return before the evening.
Kushada Dil escorted me to another small cell, with the straw carpet, a vessel for ritual ablutions, a jar of water and cup, a blanket and a prayer rug.” Feel comfortable here, and if you need anything just call my name, and I will be in your service” he said and closed the door.
While I was wondering what to do, this night was very mysterious. I came here to search for the Madrassah of Hazrat Qutab Uddin Bakhtiyar Kaki r.a and now I was lying in a typical Kyrgyz nomadic camp. Now to mind came “why” with capital W; recalled the words of “ You are being sent, so be in proper adab”. I had this strong urge for the tea, but I was ordered to be in Adab. I heard the voice of Khushada Dil “ Respected would you like to have “ Chai” here or you would like to join me out at fireplace”.  It was so prompt that I assumed that my heart and mind was being watched. I raised the cloth and came out. Khushada Dil was standing there with smiling eyes carrying a metal tea pot and an axein his hands, stock of woods on his back. He greeted me with “Sallam” and asked me to follow him towards a big rock. He placed the woods down, and arranged the stones in a way that he can put the pot…. As he was preparing to fire , I was continuously watching this strange looking youth.
Khushada Dil, my brother how old are you? “Two hundered”.he answered without turning his eyes from the flame  struggling from wind. . Two hundered years, months or days….I laughed. Khushada Dil laughed back and said “certainly years my brother”…. He laughed in such a way that I didn’t doubt that he was lying. It was natural “ Who he was?”…a cold feeling of fear of unknown ran through my veins.
To Be Continued……..

Takht Suleyman , Osh.

Traditional Kyrgyz camp.

Qadam Bous-5---Darling Stand By Me !

Darling Stand By Me….Stand By Me !
Spain has always offered a warm and friendly welcome to humble dervish…this time it started even from the aircraft. The Pakistani passport receives the legendary protocol…and this time humble dervish was given the last seat of the Aircraft…..and what seems to be kind of “Negro Discrimination” turned out to be a real fun. First there was no one sitting with me, so I could easily “rule the kingdom” of three seats….but the fun part was my neighboring  state of “ Felix Santo and Mreijya”….a very interesting typical Espanola couple…….full of life…Felix is probably some construction engineer….or at least this is what I can get from what he told me in Spanish…until some one translates it for me…he comes from El Canto city…..and both were visiting Berlin on their holiday. Mreijya was fond of taking pictures and very generous in throwing the smiles on everyone she encounters….she must have been “Billo Rani” of El Canto…..
The curtains were raised….stage was all set….music..lights…sound effects..and characters. It was not in front of me….this was not 3D or 4D stage…it was totally a DD ( Divine Dimension), I was part of the stage and at the same time the observer and observed……..my character was very specific….a very defined role…….my role was to search for Him and end up finding myself.
Time is not linear or cyclic…for dervish it is the fall of moments….and when he is in the moment…he is everywhere…all the curtains are raised and he is able to see the stage and what is being staged..It was such a moment on Mari magnum Barcelona De Port…. We were crossing the bridge from Barcelona De Port to Marimagnaum……the bridge was all crowded with the tourists….It was not the moaning of separation from the Nay of Moulana Rumi…….it was the celebration of union coming out through the strings of guitar…a group of three street singers were singing the songs of joy. And the sweet melody traveling on the wings of the cool breeze of Mediterranean…..chained my feet from moving further..
When The Night has come,
And the land is dark
And the Moon
Is only light we’ll see
No I won’t be afraid
No I won’t be afraid
Just as Long as you Stand
Stand By Me !
So Darlin’ Darlin Stand by Me …Oh Stand by Me….. the singer was singing…..dervish stood by Him…..all the curtains raised…..claps…applause… the first scene was about to start. “ Nahan O Aqrab khenda khenda O saade vehde aya.” …..Shah Rag se bhi qareeb….. “ How beautiful is the melody and the lyrics”? Seher was standing by me.
I never imagined in my thoughts that I will encounter her in this outlook; sleeveless shirt with tattoos on the arms……lips, ears, nose all pierced; cigarette in fingers ….old jeans …..gypsy looks with the same penetrating eyes. It was only the eyes which were same …she was a tall girl now..
How do you manage to change yourself like this… “ Is it me?”  said she.” Who changes?” staring into my eyes again with a meaningful smile as it was me who was changing and not her..But I am the same as you left me in Turkey…even am wearing the same clothes….” That is your outlook; look inside you….i reflect your inner state.”  She said; “ Aren’t you a gypsy?”  How you can claim not to be?....Look at my face ; whose mirror I am? The intoxication of your wine is me….you are the one who is travelling but its my body which is on unrest…its my face which carries the dust of the roads you have taken…Look at my face; whose mirror I am? I am your face and am annihilated in you..
Although I always felt complete in her company…but was fed up of these sudden mysterious appearances …I wanted to grab her arm and ask what the hell is this and where the hell am I?..As I approached her…she stepped back and said “ didn’t we agree that you wont touch me.”..Ok she said. But seriously do tell me what is this…..you keep on changing but you remain the same….time and space don’t apply on you….. “Love my lover…what satisfaction the definition of love gonna give you!”….lets listen to the music…you wanna smoke? She offered me the cigarette she was smoking. ..Koi Milan Bahana  Sooch Layen….( find some excuse to meet….)…I took the cigarette from her and started smoking..
I started feeling cold……the extreme coldness suddenly turned extremely hot….she held my arm and started running…we were running on the deck…making our way through the tourists…..she suddenly found some stairs going down…..and there was a door. She knocked it couple of times in a particular rhythm and it opened into a tunnel…..it was like a metal tunnel probably connecting one ship to the other…all I was able and still able to recall is the feeling as if some secret was about to reveal….


We loki khende kyun roniyen aan…das keda bahana lavaan.



We Mahiya tere dekhen layi, chuk charkha gali vich dawaan.
Lokaan bhaane soot katdi…we tand teriyan yaadaan de pavaan !

Qadam Bous-4 " You call it Blood!"

“You have been searching for me for quite a long….you should have forgotten, it’s been years now. You want to possess what you like, and that is the hindrance itself” she closed the shop and started walking up the street. She didn’t look at me, as if she knew that what else I could do except following her. She was not like this before…a shy girl. Who would always hold my arm and walk. You know, you can’t be happy with anyone. The loneliness of years is now running through your veins…..you call it blood? It has penetrated into your bones and flesh. You are created by the One who is Alone without loneliness…… Who is in every form and image without any relation to any appearance…… Now tell what you have been seeking for? Hahhahahaha  she laughed out loud at me.
I was still speechless…trying to make any sense out of it….and after a while I surrendered my mind…..

 Jin patharoon ko hum nein aata ki thien dhahdkanien…
woh boolne lage tou humien pe baras pade…

“Ok O indescribable Turkish Beauty….I come from the lands of Lovers…don’t play with the strings of my heart…..you are now getting into the dangerous play. You are nothing ….if I am not there. Beauty has to hold the arm of the Love in any case and in every case…with out me my mysterious Fairy you can only be a hanging Portrait in some museum. I am the one who give life to you. So don’t play with me….. you are because of me….and don’t laugh at me.”

 Mein nein pathar se jin ko bnaya sanam…who khuda ho gaye dekhte dekhte……

“Oh such arrogance……this is exactly what I expected from you…you are arrogant. If you are the life then why you were not able to see me all these years?” … I was not able to see you with physical organ called eye, but I remembered you whenever I wanted to….and my remembrance made you alive during all this time…it was remembrance of my heart which was pumping your beating heart and it was running through your veins which you call blood my dear….its my remembrance. You are wrong I was never lonely”

“ you are madly in love with the virgin lands……why you can’t settle in one place? Now you are married and have a beautiful baby boy…..go and settle down. You can make fortune with all your worldly education and diverse experience…..not many have been blessed with what has been bestowed upon you…spend a normal life.” She looked into my eyes and gave me the sweet advice.

Ah….why you appeared now? Replied ignoring what she was saying to me. “ Laagi re tose laagi najar sayiaan laagi..” she stopped looking into my eyes…as if she became aware that I have come to know the truth.  You were always with me….you knew each and everything of what was happening in my life…what I was going through…..but why now??? What made you appear now?  You are my own Nafs…aren’t you?

If I give you the answer…I will go. Now you want me or the answer; its up to you?  As you got some sense out of it……I promise you that I will company you on your travels…only if you don’t try to touch me. The moment you will touch me ; I will disappear. If we can have this agreement; then I will see you in Andalusia…Until then…goodbye my dear….

Agreed….like always. I replied and here I was infront of the Hamidiya mosque….Omer and Karim bey were waiting there for me. I noticed that although I spent quite a lot time with her…but as if it was no time. I was again back to my flesh and bones. …..And we three entered the Hamidiya mosque….Allah O Akbar….. USke rang aur wohi jaane……. Lets see if Seher meets in Andalusia. I am taking flight tomorrow from Berlin to Barcelona….Thanks all for bearing all this till now.

Qadam Bous-3 " Seher The Magic" travels of Chishti Dervish

The traveler is not allowed to fall in Love….because he is already a Lover. Once a friend visiting me from abroad just before his departure wrote a letter that “  by making every other Heart your home; this Love will divide you”.  May be he had a different understanding of Love, otherwise Love is Unity……it never divides you. It fades away all the divisions humanity suffers from the limited vision and knowledge.  I was feeling united with the beloved Turk friends in that old Ottoman atmosphere.  And I had no reason to fall in love with the old care taker of that building, respected Aziz Bey.
Aziz Bey brought the tray of “Turkish Chaye”….the only thing I appreciate of crown is Tea with Milk….all the other tradition of drinking tea seems very poor to me… I remember once an air hostess asked “ Tea or Coffee”.. “ Tea” please…. How much Sugar? And with a smiling face my reply was; “ I am sweet enough, No sugar.” She smiled back at me and gave me a cup with black tea.. I said to her; “ I said , I am sweet enough; not white enough, please put some milk in it.” And during all flight time she served me with the tea and snacks…..  Turks can keep on drinking tea 24/7, its same with the people of high altitudes…but with someone coming from deserts of “ Rohi” ( Cholistan), no matter if he is known for his horrible intake of Tea….the black tea is something which is not for me.  Doodh Pati ki baat hi khuch aur hai….mujhe to separate tea bhi badi impotent si lagti hai..
Aziz Bey keeps flower in his front pocket….which reminded me of Bektashi Wali “ Gul Baba”; who always kept a rose in his hands…. Gul Baba’s Mazar is in Budapest , Hungary.  Gul Baba was serving the tea…..which made the black tea a sacred cup carrying the divine love…and I was unable to refuse him from bringing the new cup after each cup I drunk….and when I requested him for a picture; he placed his hand on my shoulder reciting the Benediction( Darood Shairf) in praise of Rasool Allah…… Ya Mustafa, Nurul Hudda , Saani tera koi nehin…..and as if he transferred that to me…and it started not only my tongue but also my heart….
After the music rehearsal we were planning to visit “ Eyup Sultan”( Hazrat Abu Ayub Ansari r.a shrine); but than heard that the shrine is closed for the renovation.  So with Omer Bey and Karim Bey ( Bey means Brother or as we say Bhai), went to pay visit to Hazrat Aziz Ahmed Hudayi. Omer Bey grew up in this neighborhood, and his mothers house is still there.  And from there went to the downtown Uskudar for the early dinner, with the typical Black sea cuisine. It was there when Omer suggested to go to Buyukada Island.  This is the Island near Istanbul, the name means “ Big Island”… I didn’t know at that time what was waiting for me at Buyukada. Karim had his own boat,  and it took us 40 minutes to reach Buyukada.
The only vehicles which are allowed on the Island is either bicycle or the Horse Buggy. Instead of taking Buggy, I preferred the bicycle; and my old friends had a buggy ride up to the famous  Hamidiye mosque.  It was like some place where you deliberately wants to get lost….where you want to be alone, where the winds caresses you…and whispers in your ear…….i am there…I don’t know it was the wind or someone….i was in this continuous feeling that some one was out there…Who it can be? My body and mind never plays this with me, when it happens I know for sure that there is something…but this time it was not something but Some One….Sehar……. Magic.
It was a small shop and a café, where I stopped to get a bottle of water. Buyukada is not a flat island but a steep. “ Bir Su” One bottle of water please…!  There was no one in the shop…I shouted again. The back door opens and she entered in the shop with a scarf on her head…..she was as beautiful as I saw her on the first day some15 years ago in Central Asia…..Seher Tuncer…..  Both of us were speechless….we were just looking into each others eyes….they eyes were taking us back into the time…when we were quite young…..oh youth is something….the time when we use to wait for hours to get the same bus back to city from our campus…..the time when she will bring the food for me …..the time when we didn’t know how to express our feelings….the time when the love was so innocent…..the time which went out like a flash……oh some 15 years…..
We studied together in central asia, both of us were learning the russian language. She was a not a tall girl, so she couldn’t hold the rods of the bus to stand, she would always grab my arm in the trolly bus.. I was very shy to express my feelings to her…… I use to repeat Moulana Rumis verse…Zuban-e-Yaar man Turkey, wa Man Turkey Nami Danam…and she would not understand even that much Persian….. And then one day I lost her….i heard from other friends of her, that she moved to Germany with her brother Ayedin Tuncer… but here she was in front of me. Was it a dream? am I on some magic Island??? It was already dark out there…and then Moazin started reciting the Aazan “ Allah o Akbar !”……
She took the 50 Turkish Lira note from my hand….putted back into my pocket…and then held my chin and closed my open jaws….. “ You didn’t change Asim”. No its not dream you are in ….I am Seher..as you once wrote down in my note book “ You are Magic”. And before I could say anything she just hugged me, and kissed my cheek…I could see the happiness from her twinkling eyes…I couldn’t move…it was all happening there….but for some reason I was kind of hypnotized….something in my brain was reluctant to accept the reality…she held me from my arm and made me sit on the chair. “What are you staring at”..Her English was sweeter than the Persian and Saraiki…. Sit I am about to close the shop…and yes here is water…..
My brains went all blank……I couldn’t spot time nor the space….and no feelings too…it was a wonder…still a lot to digest and swallow …. It was not a dream…nor was I awake. I could easily recall that I came to this Island with friends, they left on the buggy and I rented the bicycle and was following them..we were to meet at Hamidiye mosque.  Now where I was ?? Closing the shop didn’t take lot of time. And again she was standing there….with a red headscarf….do you mind if I close the shop, or do you need anything else? I didn’t utter any word and instead came out of the shop…..the wind was again whispering into my ears…be careful I am magic…… Can you hold my bag, so I can lock the shop….my head was spinning as it was some old wine and not water in the bottle….. to be continued…

Qadam Bouse-2 " Travels of Chishti Dervish

A dervish lives between “attachment and detachment” all his life. I was probably at some level of attachment with the beauty of the nature around me and the wonderful company that I forgot my laptop in the hotel room in Namli Mera, near Nathia Gali. Muhammad Wasif and Kausar Ali came to drop me to Islamabd, and then we planned to stay one night in the mountains. Like always; Muhammad Wasif came up to bail me out, and send his driver to bring back my laptop, and hand it over to me before my departure at the Airport; which he dutifully did.

One can expect any behavior from the Pakistani passport control officers; it never took so long to be cleared by the passport control as it did in Islamabad. The officer said that my name is so long that the system is taking more than expected time.  My calmness and smiles were probably making him go more confused ……… “ Take your time officer, do the legal requirements you need to do, I am not in hurry”…this “legal” word he didn’t understand. And here comes the problem, “ All I do is legal”….come on who is saying illegal…the saying go right….with stupid its better to be silent. But even the silence didn’t rescue me from his stupidity. He called his superior to consult; who by only reading my name” Maharvi” not only stamped my passport and later on took me to the office and offered the tea. Where nothing helps “Khwajgan-e-Chisht” come to help. He was initiated into some Chishti branch and showed the traditional respect and humbleness.

Na to mera koi kamal hai, na dakhal hai is mein gharur ka
Mujhe rakhte hein who nigha mein, yeh karam hai mere hazur ka

Goodbye Pakistan……

Ladies and Gentlemen we will be landing shortly at the AttaTurk International Airport, the temperature of Istanbul is 32 Degrees. Hope that you have enjoyed flying with Turkish Airlines; the announcement made me awake. I have been sleeping during all the flight time.

I was there……the land which was chosen for the Relics of the Beloved of Beloved Allah saien. It is altogether something different when you remember that you come from the land and the country from where the “ Naalin Mubarak” ( Blessed Shoes) of Rasool kareem were stolen. And still it remains a mystery and unsolved case in police files. I never heard of any inquiry or investigation. It seems that there was no sense of loss at the National Level. Those were not the “ Shoes” only , not some antique…..those were the “Naalain” of the Rasool-e-kareem…the source of blessing for this poor Nation. It was the National Treasure……… Sharifs, Zardaris, Bhuttos, Gillanis, Raja’s, Chaudhrys and even Kiyanis; all the Islami and secular parties; I blame each and everyone, every institution and every activist , I blame myself too…

Pashemanaman Peshayman Ya Rasool Allah !

The security of my country lied in those blessed “ Naalian-e-Kareemain” not in the Nukes…when would they understand…don’t they see that since those were stolen, all this nation received were “ Shoes” in every sense of the word and in every aspect of the word.
With all this burden and shame, I took the first breath of the fresh air in Turk Lands.. Unlike Pakistan, here the Immigration officer immediately stamped my passport after the receipt of the Visa fee and I was out of the Airport with my luggage.  And we made our way to our Hotel in the center of the city near Sultan Ahmet Mosque, which is known as Blue Mosque.  This history of this unique city goes back to 6700 BC, inhabited by Greeks and then Byzantine which attracted Constantine to attack and  conquer. Byzantium now renamed as Nova Roma which eventually became Constantinopolis. The City of Constantine was officially proclaimed the new capital of the Roman Empire in 330.

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The slave who just turned the “ Sultan” after getting the “ Crown”  of Beloved’s Foot over his head; was certainly the happiest person on this planet earth.  Making his way through the tourists he came out of the Palace, crossed the Aya Sophia and stood near the fountains between Aya Sophia and Sultan Ahmet Mosque…..Kaaba mere aage hai…Kalisa mere Peeche. ( Kaaba is infront of me , and church behind me). But he was from Chishti Lineage, not the Ottoman one, he looked at Aya Sophia took the way to Sultan Ahmet Mosque entered from the one door to the courtyard and came out from the other. His destination was neither any of these. He was intoxicated, by the acceptance.  He was in presence , so didn’t care about church or mosque. His heart was already the Kaaba…

Hotel Nomad is just round the corner of Sultan Ahmet train stop; which was designed by a very famous Italian Architect , but over the years certainly the standard has gone down and the prices gone up. The only thing spectacular in this hotel now is its Terrace. Ali who was working there as the only service man at the Terrace, brought him the iron and the stand to press the clothes. “ Asim Bey! You need to change the clothes now, I still got half an hour so give me your clothes and let me get the honor to press it.” I was really enjoying it, first the guards of the palace kissing my hands, and now Ali ; who met me only a day ago was eager to do the service of pressing my clothes. I didn’t stop him at all. After all I was not asking for it, and whatever comes involuntarily should be accepted .

I had a very short time to catch up with Britta and Qalander at Galata Tower; who were there with some of their family friends. Took the train to Karakoy, and from there took the tunnel to reach Galata Tower. Galata Tower was built by the name of Christea Turris or the Tower of Christ. It is one of the most striking landmarks, cone-caped sylinder that dominates the skyline and offers a panoramic vista of old Istanbul. There is a restaurant and café at its upper floors.
The narrow steep streets, the hustle and bustle of tourists and the haunting salesmen…….Galata Tower is near Takseem.  They were sitting in the street café right next to the Tower. The guy was of Pakistani origin, but born and raised in Germany , who worked as the Bureau chief of a leading german newspaper and moved to Istanbul two week ago. Although it was brief but he and his wife looked very interesting people; but we had to rush for Usukdar, where Omer Bey was waiting for us at the fairy port.  With the wishes to see each other again soon in Istanbul; we walked down to the fairy station. And when we reached there,  found out that we need to cross the bridge and go to Eminouno port to take the fairy to Usukdar.

Uskudar is the oldest settlement on the eastern side of the Istanbul city, more conservative as my western friends put it. It is the most lively part of the city. formerly known as Scutari and “Chrysopolis”(golden city), is a large and densely populated district and municipality of Istanbul on the Anatolian shore of the Bosphorus. The Persian Empire had a gold depository here and some say that it received the name because of the excellence of its harbor. It had been an important staging post in the wars between the Greeks and Persians. With the victory of Constantine I, although Byzantium was made capital but Uskudar ( Chrysopolis ) remained important all trade routes to Asia started there, and all Byzantine army units headed to Asia mustered here. The city name was changed to Skoutarion, the name deriving from the then Emperor’s Skoutarion Palace. In 1338 the Ottoman leader Orhan Gazi took Skoutarion, giving the Ottomans a base within sight of Constantinople.In the Ottoman period Uskudar was one of the three communities outside the city walls of Constantinople along with Sultan Eyup ( the district named after the shrine of Hazrat Abu Ayub Ansari r.a and Galata. The area was a major burial ground, and today many large cemeteries remain, including Karacaahmet Mezarlığı, Bülbülderesi Mezarlığı, and a number of Jewish and Christian cemeteries. Karacaahmet Mezarlığı is one of Istanbul's largest cemeteries. The Bülbülderesi cemetery is next to Fevziye Hatun mosque.

The ride of fairy from Eminounou to Usukdar is very interesting, and one can really enjoy the panorama of Bosphorus. It takes only three Turkish Lira and some 15 minutes to reach to Uskudar. For Dervish beside all its history it has only been  the city of Hazrat Aziz Mahmud Hudayi; as Lahore is that of Hazrat Data Sahib. Hazrat Hudayi is the founder of the Jelveti Sufi order. He was also the Murshid of Sultan Ahmed I who constructed the famous Blue Mosque. Hazrat Aziz Hudayi lead the first Friday Prayer at Blue Mosque on its opening. He was disciple of Hazretleri Uftade.  Every seeker of the Sufi orders who visits Turkey as pilgrimage never miss to pay homage to the Patron Chief hazrat Hudayi. His one Doa is very famous; , "Those who visit us when we are alive, and those who visit our grave after our death and read the Fatiha when passing by our tomb are ours. May those who love us not drown at sea, may they not suffer poverty in their old age, may they not pass away without saving their faith.”

Omer Bey was waiting for us at the port of Uskudar. Omer is a retired engineer by profession and a musician by spirit. And as they say Friend of a Friend is a friend. …so does he. He is friend of my beloved friend a very famous Sufi Musician Haroun Teboul.  Haroun’s last name Teboul shows his Jewish background, his parents moved from Algeria to France and now he lives in Paris. As I am going to meet him in Paris , so would write about him laters. Haroun gave Omer a call and told him about my visit….
All of us got fitted in his small Meagan car, and drove upto a very interesting Ottoman Building, formerly a Medrassa attached to a mosque which is now run by a foundation as a center of Excellence. His young friends were waiting there for the music rehersal… ….. to be continued…