Searching for God in the indulgent world is as foolish as looking for a Rose in the middle of the desert, suggests the Delhi Sage – by Mujeeb Jaihoon

As I turned the pages
On the life of Delhi’s Sage,
His eminence with the Lord
Touched me indeed:

The mother and son,
Starved most nights,
“Tonight we have nothing,
So let’s remain His guests.”

Hey Nizamuddin!
Like you had I been,
A like of you
Is nowhere to be seen!

Hey Nizamuddin!
I too am in His quest,
His love keeps burning
In my empty breast.

Tell this hypocrite
A comforting word,
For I cannot ask
This question aloud.

The creed and its symbols
Are hijacked,
Mercy and Love:
Have they axed

They import kaafir-baked bricks
To adorn the Masjid,
And expel the Mulla afar
For uttering a bitter word.

Came the reply,
‘These comforts,
On the soul tie knots;
These edacious dishes
You eat to your wishes;
These cushions,
In homes fashion;
These skyscrapers,
Hearts growth hamper;
This worry
To be rich in a hurry;
How is it possible then
You would ever find Him?
Tell me one reason:
To call upon Him?

How can you buy light
In the market of darkness?
The rose grows in the garden,
Not a land barren.

Do you search for Abraham
In the workshop of Azar?
Do you seek Moses
In the palace of Pharaoh?

The minutes you devote
For the so-called prayer
Do no good more
Than split of a hair.

Your ears are amused
By the musical melody,
And your heart surfs
On the waves of fantasy.

For hours you sleep,
For days and nights you work,
For months you strive to pay bills,
For years you save until death.

You have no time for Him:
Just minutes is all you give Him.

You are ready to waste
Whole life in traffic,
Stingy though when
Called to His worship.

You take a break
To serve Him from your work,
All my life I forgot
Even for a minute to forget Him.

May God have mercy
On you thirsty ones,
May your sparks become
Flames like mine.

05 July 2005. Edit March 2024