S is for Sufi poetry

Be melting snow.

Wash yourself of yourself.

~ Rumi~

Every evening, before I enter the kitchen to start prepping for dinner, I stop by my music system and push the play button to listen to Sufi music. Over the years, I've collected a few CDs that I can listen to almost anytime. And if you happen to pay me a visit, you will have to do the same. Yes, listen to Sufi music before we go to jazz or Bollywood or Spanish acoustic guitars or Mamma Mia. Sufi's always first. Sorry!

Do you listen to music when you prepare meals?

Sufi poetry, Sufi saints and poets from the Bhakti movement are as intrinsic to my upbringing as Basmati rice and chawal ke kheer (rice pudding).

I didn't know how uniquely secular my upbringing had been till I became an adult and started travelling the world. I grew up in a town of green hedges and grey heads, called Dehradun: made famous by the British who chose to retire in this green valley after India gained its independence.

Religion was a big part of my day to day, but religion meant something completely different to what it looks like today on Al Jazeera, the BBC and CNN.

 "Your daily life is your temple and your religion."

said Gibran

And even though I hadn't heard of Gibran then, it felt like how he says it should.

Back then, religion for me was:

• listening to stories of Krishna and Ram and Sita and Ravana and Guru Gobind Singh ji.
• waiting for kadha (sweet semolina pudding) prasad and kaale chane (cooked black chick peas) every Saturday at the Gurudwara in our neighbourhood.
• Decorating Christmas cards with drawings of holly and candles and even getting a fiber optic X-mas tree twinkling and winking in the cold winter months.
• Tasting savaiyan kheer  (vermicilli and milk pudding) for Eid.
• Waking up before sunrise to go on prabhat pheris (early morning rounds) with my grandfather, singing bhajan (religious songs) and waiting to sip piping hot tea from his glass when we reached our destination. He would blow into the glass to cool it for me.
• Chanting Sat naam, Sat naam, Wahe Guru ji (Sikh prayer) while watching the granthees (priests) put the Guru Granth Sahib ji to bed at the end of the day.
• Singing the Lord's prayer every morning in school.
• Playing Holi and lighting candles at temples and Gurudwaras on Diwali day.
• Giving baby Krishna's cradle a gentle push on his birthday while waiting for panjeeri (another sweet prasad prepared especially on Janmashthmi- Krishna's birthday)
• Escaping my mother's anger by seeking refuge in a nearby temple or Gurudwara at prayer time, with the added bonus of getting sweet prasad in the end.
• Standing around temple exit on Tuesdays to eat boondi ka prasad (sweet, sweet mini balls of heaven) when worshipers finished their prayers and before exiting the temple were obliged to share their blessings with all of us kids hanging there with hungry eyes. Despite post dinner full bellies, we hankered for prasad. I don't know why.

Yes, my childhood was a jumble of all the good things from all the religions around me. Notice how food features a lot more often in the list above. What can I say? It's the one complaint I had when I went to Madras (Chennai now) and the priest only gave me flowers as prasadam. 

Then I grew up and discovered that all these World Religions were set in their own compartments. The more college- educated my world became, the more rigid these compartments became. Imagine all the Gods from these religions sitting up in Heaven with their open plan offices and a few house plants for a bit of green. 

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I was never a fan of rituals and rigidity, but as a teenager I became averse to all things religious. 

That's when I reconnected with Kabir and Amir Khusrau and Bulleh Shah and rediscovered Meera.
A few years later, Rumi appeared in my life.
Recently, Gibran has been keeping me busy.

Sufi poetry can make you weep with joy, smile so wide your cheeks hurt and give you goosebumps when you read it or listen to it when it's sung by artists like Ustad Shujaat Husain Khan or Abida Parveen or the late Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan.

Sufi poetry is so vast and deep, that you will have to dive in yourself to taste the magic. I'll share a few of my favourites. It's hard to choose just a few, but the post is getting really long.

1. Kabir Das, who said about himself, 'I'm at once the child of Allah and of Rama." wrote:

Oh follower, where do you search me?

I am always with you.

2. Amir Khusrau: 

Oh Khusrau, the river of love runs in strange directions.

one who jumps into it drowns, and one who drowns, gets across.

3. Bulleh Shah

I have learnt a secret...

He is the same

From this end to that

It's only we

Who fuss like a brat

4. Meera Bai: She dedicated her life and poetry to Krishna. In her words:

"Don't forget love;
it will bring all the madness you need
to unfurl yourself across
the universe."
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Today, at this time in my life, Gibran's words summarize what religion or God means to me:
"You shall see Him smiling in flowers, then rising
and waving His hands in trees."

Yes, my garden is my temple and I see Him everyday.

And because it's the weekend, and because I've had a glass of wine and because I'm about to pour my next one, 

let me leave you with this beautiful video of Rumi's poetry:

Enjoy a wonderful weekend:)

If you are curious and you have the time to follow through your curiosity, here are some links that you might like to explore to find out more about Sufis and their poetry:

• Bhakti and Sufi movement in India 
• Sufi Poetry
• More about Kabir