Saturday, January 8

Rumi and the true Story of Faith

Hell-low under again Folks!

The DisplacedFrequency's been going under duck-loads of displacements off-lately and less time to post, (dear readers, don't take it as I'm DEAD!) and have also been unactive for past two months. Reason? Well the rest of November went with my Ma's birthday, my own stuff, the month of December went in tests and the month of January went in celebrating New Year BUT... January ain't gone as the displaced frequency's born to a new life. Hey, that's why I'm so awesom to ya folks. ;)

Jalal-ud-din Rumi and the mystics
 Jalal-ud-din Rumi's my favourite mystic of all times (along with Bulleh Shah, Waris Shah and Osho). Now why do I like his poetry? Clear as crystal, it's nor far fetched, it's sufi, it brings a person a step closer to his/ her own heart and it really doesn't need a language to be spoken out. The words of Rumi are the words of our own. The only language Rumi ever spoke wasn't Persian or Arabic, rather, it was the language of love. Rumi taught us the Passion to Live.

I don't know whatever brought me to read him, well it just did, I just read him. As a personality, I endorse the fact that there's a God. I believe that there's a destiny. I believe that Life is. No, it ain't a struggle or a celebration, it just is. And that's the clearest thing Rumi taught us. God is. Love is. Rumi and his words are eternal and have lived through the ages. Even in this world of race between a heart beating and a system procession, Rumi's words can melt  silicon.

There are many incidents, stories to "why" did Rumi ever start writing. One of them's my favourite version, the one I am to narrate:-
 Rumi became a scholar and a mystic came to him when he was sitting with his pupils and his books by the side of a pond. The mystic threw all his books in the pond and transformed Rumi's soul. Spiritually, the process of transformation includes exchange of spirits between two bodies. No, that LITTERALLY ain't the thing that you might be thinking. Transformation means that when there's a true connection of the soul. When you've crossed all the borders and boudaries and reached a stage where noone needs words to talk. But when his mystic friend died Rumi became hysteric and spun for ages and poetry bled out of him (Litterally, that's a mental illness. eg, Schizophrenia is always described as the world dissolving, and the poetry bleeding is obviously the poetry being recited by a "madman").

The first verse I ever ready by Rumi was:-
Come, come, whoever you are,
Wanderer, idolater, worshiper of fire,
Come even though you have broken your vows a thousand times,
Come, and come yet again.
Ours is not a caravan of despair
And it's in this first meeting that Rumi took me with him by surprise. It's clear as crystal and easy to understand. Rumi is who we are. In fact, Rumi is the originator of that spinning sufi dance (the stage of his hysteria, he spun for an eternal age).

These stories about God, about those who had faith, might seem weird and far fetched. For example, when Bulleh Shah was a child, his mother told him, "if you pray, God will give you jaggery." And the lad prayed for the sake of jaggery. But when his mother died, the whole town knew that it was to be the day he was going to lose his faith.That day, after he was done praying, the entire room was filled with jaggery... Wierd as it might seem, but Faith is. Nothing you can do to help it. It might be there, it might not be there but it just is. Were words enough, to be there we wouldn't really need eyes to see and hands to feel. All the broken hearted and all the open wounds need some faith, sometimes a little more than medicine to heal. In fact, that's why I write mostly spiritual that there would be at least someone who'd read it and think about it, reflect upon his/her own life, and choose life time and time again. There's no point in sufering with our own self. Let's all spend a moment to take a deep breath and rejoice over existence and all that Rumi taught us. In his own words:-

I died as a mineral and became a plant,
I died as plant and rose to animal,
I died as animal and I was Man.
Why should I fear? When was I less by dying?
Yet once more I shall die as Man, to soar
With angels bless'd; but even from angelhood
I must pass on: all except God doth perish.
When I have sacrificed my angel-soul,
I shall become what no mind e'er conceived.
Oh, let me not exist! for Non-existence
Proclaims in organ tones,
To Him we shall return
I have been an atheist, I have been a disbeliever, I have been a satanist, and then I met God. His path is the simplest to follow, and the easiest to believe (that's why people find it hard). I am not eternal, but I am. To me, my faith is my headstone and my destiny is my smile. I fell in love with life all over again, and now as I write this, I thank ALL those who have ever read at least one post of this blog to give my words a tinch of importance. I think it's destiny that brought us down to this bottom line that we are connected by this little proof of existence. Thankyou all, really it means a lot to me. =)

Peace out!


1 comment:

  1. Naanu very well done. proud to have you as a daughter. Love you a lot.



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