“ Qadam Bous” the travels of Chishti Dervish.
The slave took off his shoes in the room, and walked down the streets of Istanbul to reach to the Palace where the Relics of his Master are kept. The tourists were staring at this strange looking bare feet guy, and were probably taking him crazy or mad. And they were right; they have only heard about slaves in the books and not seen in the real life…. Tou ba Naaz-e-Ajabe…Man ba Niayaz-e-Ajabe…… He kneeled down and kissed the door, with his head down entered in the Privy Chamber….tears in eyes and Benediction on tongue. The body was shivering in that Majestic Court of Sultan al Anbiya.
The slave was unable to raise his head and look at the “ Foot Print” of the Master kept in the Large Glass Case……..he was ashamed … Pashaymanam Pashimaan Ya Rasool Allah. All his short comings, sins and mistakes had taken him over, he was nothing but ashamed to look upto Masters “Foot Prints”. Visitors keep on entering and leaving the chamber…but he was standing in the presence, how could he move? The tears of the ashamed slave were falling on the floor…tup tup tup….he was hardly trying to stop his cries….as if the body was about to shatter and heart about to seize beating. That was the moment when he felt that Beloved’s Foot was actually on his head….and as if immense Energy, Power and Light ( Nur) was entering through this hairs and skin, penetrating through his skull and running through all his Body…Now there was no Fear, no Shame…it was Love and Mercy…..The Merciful Master was blessing the slave….Karam ki Intiha…….. the slave knew not where he was. It was only when the guard of the privy chamber kissed his hands and brought him back to flesh and bones….
The Slave came out of the Beloved’s court as the “Sultan” of the world. With expanded Chest and the conqueror greater and mightier than any Alexander and any magnificent Suleyman.
Man Fida-e-Naqsh-e-Naalined
For the slave Privy Chamber of Topkapi Palace was all what Turkey has to offer; but with acceptance comes the acceptance from all the creations. There was much waiting for him, the land and people.
It’s raining like snow fall down here in “Quick Born” Germany. And for the first time am enjoying a cup of Black Coffee….with my companion “Gold Leaf” cigarettes. “Quick Born” is in the outskirts of Hamburg, a small town of nearly 20,000 inhabitants. The name of the town is very interesting; but it does not mean “Born quickly”…Born in old German language means “spring or Well”. This town is known for its pure water streams.
When I woke up, the breakfast was already on the table. It was only before I was about to finish it, that the old lady Helga Petersen entered the room; 77 years old German woman who waited for his father to return from the war in Stalingrad, which he never did. One can still see that pain in the eyes of the daughter. I have a feeling that she loves me in her own way and treats me like a son. She started speaking in German for half an hour, and surprisingly made me understand what she was saying. It is absolutely right that Love needs no words for understanding each other. She is suffering from the injury in her vertebra; and I brought the oil from Hazrat Baba Farid Uddin Ganj Shakar’s chiragh for healing.
Helga Petersen is mother of my dear friend Britta Petersen; who is working as the country head of HBS these days in Pakistan. Its almost three years ago when we met first time at “Hast O Neest” where she came to attend a three days workshop on “Introduction to Sufism”. She was pursuing her spiritual quest in Hindu traditions and was more familiar to this yearning of heart then other participants of the workshop. Before coming to Pakistan she was working as a journalist in India, and living in Basti Nizam Uddin r.a in Dehli. This was enough to start our friendship, she lived in the street of my Beloved “ Sultan Jee” Hazrat Nijam Paak. “ Mohe Peer Payo, Nijam Uddin Auliya……”. All this created a strong bond of respect, love and friendship. “ Mohe apne hi Rang mein rang le Khwaja Jee…Mohe Rang Basanti, rang de khwaja Jee…” the dyer has colored both of us in own ways.
She came to visit me in Lahore some months ago, and we planned to travel together to Turkey and Germany with her son “ Qalander” a special boy. I have a special affection for this boy, I was first to hold him in my arms on his arrival to Pakistan; and since then I am kind of his “ God Father”.
Before even embarking on the journey; I travelled almost 4000 km; which included my visit to Turbat of my murshid-e-Kareem Hazrat Khwaja Ghulam Suleyman Taunsvi r.a , to seek the permission for the travels to Europe; which was granted generously…Eid Gah-e-ma Ghareeban roye tou……
It seemed strange to most of my friends that , how can I travel around the world especially after the birth of my son “ Sahibzada Mohammed Adam Maharvi”. Some really envy the freedom and space I enjoy in my martial life and some took it is as if I had a stone instead of my beating heart. It happened so that after the two weeks of my marriage I was traveling ; and after the birth of the baby boy , exactly after 15 days I was about to embark on the journey.
A dervish lives between “attachment and detachment” all his life; and cant refuse to the events that come involuntarily. Most of my travels have never been entirely my decisions. This time I knew that I am being taken to see the foot prints of my Beloved Prophet swm ( pbuh). Continued....
The slave took off his shoes in the room, and walked down the streets of Istanbul to reach to the Palace where the Relics of his Master are kept. The tourists were staring at this strange looking bare feet guy, and were probably taking him crazy or mad. And they were right; they have only heard about slaves in the books and not seen in the real life…. Tou ba Naaz-e-Ajabe…Man ba Niayaz-e-Ajabe…… He kneeled down and kissed the door, with his head down entered in the Privy Chamber….tears in eyes and Benediction on tongue. The body was shivering in that Majestic Court of Sultan al Anbiya.
The slave was unable to raise his head and look at the “ Foot Print” of the Master kept in the Large Glass Case……..he was ashamed … Pashaymanam Pashimaan Ya Rasool Allah. All his short comings, sins and mistakes had taken him over, he was nothing but ashamed to look upto Masters “Foot Prints”. Visitors keep on entering and leaving the chamber…but he was standing in the presence, how could he move? The tears of the ashamed slave were falling on the floor…tup tup tup….he was hardly trying to stop his cries….as if the body was about to shatter and heart about to seize beating. That was the moment when he felt that Beloved’s Foot was actually on his head….and as if immense Energy, Power and Light ( Nur) was entering through this hairs and skin, penetrating through his skull and running through all his Body…Now there was no Fear, no Shame…it was Love and Mercy…..The Merciful Master was blessing the slave….Karam ki Intiha…….. the slave knew not where he was. It was only when the guard of the privy chamber kissed his hands and brought him back to flesh and bones….
The Slave came out of the Beloved’s court as the “Sultan” of the world. With expanded Chest and the conqueror greater and mightier than any Alexander and any magnificent Suleyman.
Man Fida-e-Naqsh-e-Naalined
For the slave Privy Chamber of Topkapi Palace was all what Turkey has to offer; but with acceptance comes the acceptance from all the creations. There was much waiting for him, the land and people.
It’s raining like snow fall down here in “Quick Born” Germany. And for the first time am enjoying a cup of Black Coffee….with my companion “Gold Leaf” cigarettes. “Quick Born” is in the outskirts of Hamburg, a small town of nearly 20,000 inhabitants. The name of the town is very interesting; but it does not mean “Born quickly”…Born in old German language means “spring or Well”. This town is known for its pure water streams.
When I woke up, the breakfast was already on the table. It was only before I was about to finish it, that the old lady Helga Petersen entered the room; 77 years old German woman who waited for his father to return from the war in Stalingrad, which he never did. One can still see that pain in the eyes of the daughter. I have a feeling that she loves me in her own way and treats me like a son. She started speaking in German for half an hour, and surprisingly made me understand what she was saying. It is absolutely right that Love needs no words for understanding each other. She is suffering from the injury in her vertebra; and I brought the oil from Hazrat Baba Farid Uddin Ganj Shakar’s chiragh for healing.
Helga Petersen is mother of my dear friend Britta Petersen; who is working as the country head of HBS these days in Pakistan. Its almost three years ago when we met first time at “Hast O Neest” where she came to attend a three days workshop on “Introduction to Sufism”. She was pursuing her spiritual quest in Hindu traditions and was more familiar to this yearning of heart then other participants of the workshop. Before coming to Pakistan she was working as a journalist in India, and living in Basti Nizam Uddin r.a in Dehli. This was enough to start our friendship, she lived in the street of my Beloved “ Sultan Jee” Hazrat Nijam Paak. “ Mohe Peer Payo, Nijam Uddin Auliya……”. All this created a strong bond of respect, love and friendship. “ Mohe apne hi Rang mein rang le Khwaja Jee…Mohe Rang Basanti, rang de khwaja Jee…” the dyer has colored both of us in own ways.
She came to visit me in Lahore some months ago, and we planned to travel together to Turkey and Germany with her son “ Qalander” a special boy. I have a special affection for this boy, I was first to hold him in my arms on his arrival to Pakistan; and since then I am kind of his “ God Father”.
Before even embarking on the journey; I travelled almost 4000 km; which included my visit to Turbat of my murshid-e-Kareem Hazrat Khwaja Ghulam Suleyman Taunsvi r.a , to seek the permission for the travels to Europe; which was granted generously…Eid Gah-e-ma Ghareeban roye tou……
It seemed strange to most of my friends that , how can I travel around the world especially after the birth of my son “ Sahibzada Mohammed Adam Maharvi”. Some really envy the freedom and space I enjoy in my martial life and some took it is as if I had a stone instead of my beating heart. It happened so that after the two weeks of my marriage I was traveling ; and after the birth of the baby boy , exactly after 15 days I was about to embark on the journey.
A dervish lives between “attachment and detachment” all his life; and cant refuse to the events that come involuntarily. Most of my travels have never been entirely my decisions. This time I knew that I am being taken to see the foot prints of my Beloved Prophet swm ( pbuh). Continued....
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