Text Box: THE LOVER AM I OF THE LORD (Ashiq-e-Yaram mara) (18.02.02) (Received after Esha Prayer) O Lord ! Thou art my only love And Thee alone I adore; All talk of Faith, of Here and Above, Or want of faith, is needless love. I thirst for pangs of love so dear To me ‘tis all the same I live so far or live so near That bright Beloved Flame No mighty Tribune or court of power Can me o’er-awe- I am love-slain; No kingly grace or god’s dower Can tempt me – I walk in love’s train. My seat of worship’s the eyebrow Like arch of Ka’ba Sacred Of my sweet heart; and my heart knows No fear, hope or hatred. Down here below, high up above Thy love my soul desires; Paradise or hell, o my love, Or nymphs; are tools of liars Forget thyself and love embrace Pain and cure unheeding, In temple or tavern, love grace Is never misleading Waste not thy time in outward forms, Turn inward love to find; Ugly or lovely are but norms Futile, phantoms of crazy mind. If lover, Munir Azim ! art thou true With love indeed inflamed, Be firm and fast, all things bestrew, And let it be boldly proclaimed! O Lord Thou art my only love And Thee alone I adore In my verse “The Lover Am I of the Lord”, Munir Ahmad Azim or I express the intensity of my love for the Lord. It embodies a lofty philosophy, and is an expression of the most elevated thoughts. I pray thus to God: “Love for Thee, O Lord, has entered deep into my being.” Distance nor nearness can affect the intensity of my devotion. For me the pain of love is enough. Union or separation concerns me not. A lover am I of that Divine Beloved. It matters naught to me whether you call me a heathen or a man of faith. To praise and blame alike I am indifferent. To applause and anger I am fast asleep. Censure me or extol me, you may, to my love shall I never be a stranger. When I took but two steps in the path of love I cast off all distinction of belief and disbelief. None dare stop Mira, the love-drunk, For she has cast the honour and decorum of her clan. To applause and censure she has grown equally cold, for she has come to enter the lane of love. Be glad, O my heart, for tomorrow In the market of love shalt thou be slain; But with no promise whatever, That they Beloved to thee would be shown. My Master, when I am intoxicated with the wine of Thy love, what need have I to care for the high and mighty of the world? Why need I dread death? What can mind, the agent of the Negative Power, do to me? Very little! When I have taken refuge with the lion, the king of the forest, I fear not the dogs and jackals? When I have surrendered myself to the Lord of Lords, how can I dread the kings and rulers of the worlds, the rich and powerful in the Land, or the strong and Muscular in body? There is no fear where there is love, for perfect love casts out fear. If in the ocean is the above of the Beloved If serpents form a ledge around, If lion roam and roar in the way, If the angel of death is the sentry at the gate, Even then the lovers cannot be held back from going. If like those wanderers of Arabia who go about unclothed, I do the same, what harm can ever befall me? Unclad though I may remain no apprehension will there enter my mind. I shall remain ever happy and at peace. What need, then, do I have of the worldly-wise, the nobles or the courtiers? Why should I go to any gatherings or assemblies? Thy should I go to any gatherings or assemblies? Thy lover alone am I, and Thee alone, O Master, do I adore. Treat me as Thou wilt. From thy Friend, they say, ask a favour. O Munir, But save the Friend Himself, nothing else of the Friend shall I ask. I say not, I desire pleasure or pain, Rather do I exult in the will of My love. If my friend willeth that troubles come to me, Ever I desire to be drowned in troubles. According to his own worth doth Every man asks favours from Thee, O Lord. But my desire is to ask from Thee Thine own self, and that’s all I ask. Do with me as Thou wilt: I surrender myself to Thee, If it pleases Thee, Pardon Thy servant, If it pleases Thee, lay hold of him and slay him. Love knows no difference between the Monastery and the tavern, For the light of the Beloved’s face shines upon all. There are as many pains in love as there be shells upon the shore. Such is true Love. Love is above kings or Caesars, above Lords or Laws. When the fires of Divine Love Spring into flame to consume you, you are helpless. The pains of love are far sweeter than any conceivable pleasure. Many waters cannot quench this fire; nor can floods drown it. When the time is ripe, the anguish of this love awakens the deeply slumbering soul. Love is truly and alchemy that turns ordinary mortals into divine beings. What this wine is I know not, Save that the cup of the heart was By a single drop cleansed of the rust, Such that the Face of the Beloved, Did I behold therein. Slims turn towards the Ka’aba to pray, and in the Ka’aba there is an arch. A little knowledge in that holy stone or in the arch thereof. For me, my Master’s Forehead is the Ka’aba Shrine, and His Eyebrows are the sacred arch. Within the length and breadth of these is my world confined. For the rest, I have no care. Whether the world survives or perishes, whether the ship of the world sails on or founders, whether the fortunes of the world wax or wane, I remain wedded to Thee, I prize Thee alone. I am enamoured of Thy alluring face. I am intoxicated by Thy resplendent beauty. A thousand pities that the denizen of the natural Ka’aba’s shrine, to temples false and mosques should wend his way Therein to pine. From Ka’aba’s arch, by God designed Inside, a voice calls ‘Hark, seek Find’. Temple and Mosque His glory vast, the two alone can ne’er exhaust. With that do earth and sky all interfused lie. Tales of His splendour overwhelm of His creation every realm No wisdom can be won until love, frenzied love the mind doth fill. Neither in this world nor in the next do I long for anything other than Thy love. I seek neither heaven nor hell. For those I hold in disdain. In Paradise there are Multitudes of enchanting nymphs and houris, I have nothing but contempt for them. For Thy form alone do I pine. I seek no dominion for me nor deliverance either, For I crave for nothing save the love of thy lotus feet. The wealth of the Seven Continents, The treasure of the Seven Seas, All heaped in one place Not this would the lovers of God look at, they ask only for God. And a cupful of his love. Openly and gladly I say these words; “ Am slave of love with freedom of two worlds”. “Forlorn and desolate am I for the sickness of love there is no physician nor remedy. No herbs will cure this sickness. No longer have I either cares or sorrows, forever am I rapt in the contemplation of my beloved for such a patient what can a physician do?” Different from all other diseases is the disease of the lover for love is the key to the secrets of God. Such intense, overpowering and all-absorbing love should be our ideal, outward beauty, loveliness of form, charm of personality, whether it is yours or possessed by another is of no lasting worth. Be not allured by this false show. Be not deluded by these transitory qualities. Handsome or ugly, fair or dark, delicate or coarse, exquisite or plain in appearance, all the forms that you behold are born of dust. They are dolls of clay. They are fleeting forms that will soon vanish and be no more. They are exactly like garments that we have purchased at the vanity fair of this world, But which have to be discarded before we depart. Your aim in life should be to transcend them. “All this is illusion, a mirage that deceives by its false glitter, Beholding its glamour, men believe it to be real. The mirage glitters deceitfully; Men take it for water, the world dies of thirst as man and beast come to drink of it.” “Know this world to be an absorbing dream; In a moment it will vanish. Try to cultivate that pure love, that sublime attachment which is the very quintessence of life. But this, dauntless souls alone shall dare.” “Wouldst thou in sport of love engage? Thy head then sever and with that on palm come, enter thou my lane. Yet set not in that street thy foot unless this sacrifice thou dost make in all humility.” “Love grows not in the orchard tuft, nor doth it sell in the market place. Yet king or subject who so will, may have it for his severed head.” Once true love is born, all outward qualities become meaningless. It does not matter then whether the colour of the skin is black or white, Whether the form of the body is elegant or odd, Whether the appearance and personality are attractive or repulsive. Nor does it matter in the least whether one has a squint, Or is one-eyed or blind. Remember, love knows no faults. Love can beauty spy in what seems faulty to common eye. Laila was dark in complexion. People told Majnu, her lover, that there were many other women who were both fairer of skin and lovelier in manner, and that for this reason he should not waste his attention on her. But Majnu replied, “Either within my heart, and then see how I feel. My eyes, intoxicated with love, find Laila fair beyond compare, peerless, more beautiful than any other.” “With the eye of love, do thou behold the face of the Beloved, For from pole to pole, spread’th the lustre of his eyes.” In the same manner, a devotee who is enraptured with the magnetic personality of his master finds all earthly beauty pale into insignificance before his form. He becomes completely oblivious to everything else. Like the moth, he woos the light of his love. Like the fish, he cannot bear to be separated from the water of life. As the rain-bird cries incessantly for rain and would rather die than drink of any other water, So does a true devotee long for the ambrosial drops of his love. As the moon-bird gazes rapt upon the full moon and follows it cross the sky, Slowly turning its head, rather than lose sight of its beloved even for an instant, So does the love-enraptured devotee fix for a single moment. Thou art my all! He cries. And having thee, I need naught else. Love doth my being permeated. And in my heart no room there is for so much as a mustard seed. O Love, it is a narrow lane. And two in it cannot remain. God was not when there lived ‘I’. Now God doth live, no ego’s nigh. Beloved, I can think of no other, and in Thy love care for none else. My heart is now Thy dwelling place. It has no place for any other. Pure love rises above all the pairs of opposites. It enraptures the whole being of the lover; Who then have no interest in either power or pelf, high position or prosperity, name or fame, honour or glory, heaven or earth, liberation or bondage. He becomes in different to hope and despair, riches and poverty, health and illness, joys and sorrows, smiles and tears. He wants nothing save his Beloved. It is the one-pointed and steadfast love of a devotee that ripens the priceless fruit of the Divine Triane, Where love, the lover and the Beloved lose entitles and become one. Within the mind’s eye, my love doth ever lie. Each moment to my gaze His glory is ablaze. Whoso with His splendour is stricken so, forgetful of himself doth verily grow. There is no more room in my heart save for my Friend, None else can enter the private chamber of the king. The love hath become even the beloved, and his indeed is True Love. Of that beloved, God Himself becometh the lover. In my heart none save my friend findeth room. O give thou both the worlds to my enemies, for His presence doth content me. (Finish this Text on Friday 22.02.02) Munir Ahmad Azim