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.
*******************
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…
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.
*******************
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…
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