Nearly two years ago, suffering of democracy-seeking people in the Middle East was a major reason behind my decision to accept the challenging role of a Sufi figure in Professor Akbar Ahmed’s play Noor, staged at the American University.
The role challenged me head on – as my work of filing daily reports from the State Department, think tanks and other news centers demanded objectivity. And here, I had to don the persona of a convincing, mystic, at times ecstatic, brooding Sufi Sheikh and a representative of highly subjective, humanist figure.A character that must have a calming effect on agitated minds, agonized souls and would delicately, through spiritual power, help people snatch life from the jaws of death.
As I rehearsed for the role, things went from bad to worse in Egypt and Syria. Clearly, the Arab Spring of revolutions and democratic movements was going awry under multiple pressures. The status quo powers – Bashar al Assad in Syria and Abdel Fattah el-Sisi in Egypt – would have none of it. More bloodletting, more blood spilling, more lives lost. The people, young and old alike, were literally offering all they had to turn the moment into a defining opportunity for their nation, the coming generations. The sea of demonstrators at Cairo’s Tahrir Square symbolized not only Egyptians’ aspirations for democracy but also the entire Middle East’s quest for democracy.
But something else was also missing – an unflinching trusting leadership that could translate their dream into a reality. The revolutions lacked in leadership figures, due mainly to long periods of dictatorship, which do not allow growth of political consciousness, democratic organization and suppress voices of dissent and cast a magic spell of the rulers’ indispensability to the nation by using state machinations and many other tools.
I felt I must contribute, at least, to the discourse for democracy, to add whatever I could to voices that call for tolerance, moderation, political emancipation and empowerment of people and equal right to opportunity. The role of a spiritual figure – that is meant to appeal to emotions and intellect at once – could help. So I took the challenge.
Now two years later, when the Arab world has plunged deeper into multiple crises, I feel ever more strongly that a Sufi’s message of love, peaceful coexistence and ‘compassion for humanity’ is badly needed in the time of internal Middle Eastern conflicts and negative mutual perceptions.
The heartrending spectacle of Syrian refugees – desperately wanting a sanctuary of peace for their families – and the loss of thousands of Syrian children amidst state terror perpetrated by Bashar al-Assad, abetted by his international backers on the one end, and terror attacks by the ISIS and other militant groups – is another low point in modern history.
The photo of a child lying lifeless facedown on a Turkish shore is excruciatingly painful. But it also raises a plethora of troubling questions.
Who is to blame for the Syrian catastrophe? Who will come forward to alleviate scars on the poor souls? Who will give them refuge? And above all, how will they recover from the shock and sorrow piled up by the horror of killing battlefields, loss of dear and near ones, departure from home what was once their haven from outside troubles?
But, who would listen to the Sufi teachings – famously represented by whirling Turkish derveshes and Maulana Rumi, and eternalized by poetry of Sufi figures that appealed to millions of people in Punjab and Sindh – now provinces of Pakistan – and in some other parts of India and South Asia.
A valid question staring all those talking and thinking peace, as well as analysts of the current imbroglio: Who, among rulers and power grabbers, cares about what the Sufis said and did?
Who will listen to the talk of peace, love and brotherhood when bullets are flying all around? When states and regimes are breaking societies apart? When terrorist bombings are burning down vestiges, libraries and heritage of an entire civilization in Syria, Iraq and Afghanistan. When Egypt has stifled its own people and muzzled the media with painful tactics like bringing journalists to courts in steel cages?
On the other hand, many militant organizations have intentionally damaged and destroyed many Sufi shrines and relics, even symbols of faiths of those other than Islam – like the statues of Buddha in Bamyan, Afghanistan. Clearly, it is much more than a simple question of Salafi vs Sufi equation. It is a known fact that the Taliban and ISIS have paid fighters fighting for them, mostly those who were rendered economic and political outcasts in their countries, as in Iraq. The militants are misusing the name of Islam, which categorically stresses peace, brotherhood and fair treatment of all including minorities and women.
In the current scenario the power hungry are perpetuating their reign. Any idea that espouses emancipation and empowerment, democracy, creative and critical thinking, is a target of both the parochial regimes and militant organizations including the ISIS. Journalists and peace preachers of all backgrounds are at the receiving end.
There are some hopeful signs in the midst of all this mayhem and unbridled massacre of humanity. Germany, though also moved by its long-term economic growth imperatives, has shown the way in taking refugees and respecting dignity of a people fleeing blood-red pits of sands. Turkey, Italy and Greece have also done well.
In the region, Tunis has shown the way with its historic democratic transition.
Then there are countless citizens of the world – literally from all parts and countries of the world – who have taken it to the social media to fight the case of Syrian refugees, to feel their pain, and to put some balm on their wounds. That is something that is a great source of encouragement for humanity.
Coming back to the question of why should/would anybody listen to the Sufis. Humanity has grappled with such predicaments on several occasions and in the face of many cataclysms. The Prophets taught humanism during some of the most difficult phases of history. During many tumultuous times, Sufi poets in Punjab, Sindh and many parts of India served people with message of love, brotherhood and sacrificial spirit. During World War I, Hazrat Inayat Khan, a Sufi descendent of Tipu Sultan, comforted Europeans with a Sufi approach to addressing torments and travails of the conflict. Even now, in several regions around the world, Sufi shrines, schools and teachings draw millions of people to love, peaceful coexistence, tolerance, and mutual respect.
But how does that work? What I have been able to understand broadly is this: spiritual experience, meditation, worship with conviction, belief and devotion help individuals discover empathy, association and affinity with fellow human beings and many creatures of God.
Secondly, it helps develop a sense of selflessness and egalitarianism that, in turn, enable people to be introspective and retrospective. It is after this experience that people – intellectual, political, social, religious and common citizens – reach out to the people in a sharing and caring manner. Besides Sufis, many Eastern and Western scholars, historians, anthropologists, poets, interfaith leaders and writers have also emphasized the message of love, peaceful coexistence and collective progress of humanity.
In a nutshell, Sufism to me is self-discovery and introspection through spiritual bonding, elevation and love of the Creator and His creations.
Bulleh Shah Photo: Wikimedia Commons
Bulleh Shah, a famous 18th century Sufi poet from Punjab, has said it directly:
(My prosaic interpretation of the rhymed couplets of the Shah):
You may travel to Mecca and perform a hundred prayers
You may drown and bathe in Ganga a hundred times —
But that will not help you, unless you cast off
Your egotistical selfishness (to be at peace
With yourself and all things around)
This week marks two important events for American Muslims and Christians, as indeed for followers everywhere of the two large Abrahamic faiths.
Eid ul Azha, a great occasion of self-sacrifice, altruism, charity, tolerance, magnanimity, and moral submission to values of humanity, is being celebrated this weekend. Are there any takers of the spiritual Eid message of tolerance, love, sacrifice and peaceful coexistence in embattled Egyptian, Iranian, Iraqi, Saudi and Syrian regimes? Will they rise above sectarian and ethnic considerations to make way for unity?
Pope Francis, who earlier this month earned worldwide respect with his call on Europe’s Catholics to take in Syrian asylum seekers, fleeing death and destruction in the Middle East, is visiting the United States. He is also known as Pope of the poor. The papal visit to the United States assumes much more importance nationally since Washington in recent years has seen polarized politics and racially motivated attacks against African-Americans. Ben Carson and Donald Trump, whose exclusionary comments have deeply hurt Mexican and Muslim minorities and caused millions of large-hearted Americans to cringe, need to listen carefully to Pope Francis.
